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<p>“What?” I laughed, then cringed. The fox sounded serious, and I doubt that is quite the reaction he was looking for. More soberly, I asked, “What kind of list? Wasn’t he just a construction worker or something?”</p>
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<p>Jason lowered his voice, but it quickly grew louder once more. “That’s what he always told us! That’s what mom always told me, too, that she met him on the job, right? She said he was always working, and that he always came home dirty, but never told her what he was doing during the day.” Louder, and also going up in pitch. He sounded shrill and panicked. “But I think she was just keeping his secret! I think he was actually doing some covert stuff with the CIA! Here! You know they’re supposed to only work on foreign soil, right? Like, the FBI is for the US, they’re supposed to spy on other countries, but he was working here, right? It’s not like he was flying to Cuba or China every day and back by dinner, right? He had to have been doing some covert ops–“</p>
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<p>I cut him off. “Whoa. Whoa! Jason, slow down. Jeez, you’re going a mile a minute.”</p>
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<p>“Sorry, man,” his laugh was shaky, and I could hear the effort to calm himself. Long, slow breaths. More crunching of dry leaves. “This is just all coming to me these last few days, and I guess I’m getting a bit overwhelmed.”</p>
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<p>“Sorry, Sarah,” his laugh was shaky, and I could hear the effort to calm himself. Long, slow breaths. More crunching of dry leaves. “This is just all coming to me these last few days, and I guess I’m getting a bit overwhelmed.”</p>
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<p>“It’s okay. It’s kind of coming out of nowhere for me. Did she start talking about this, then?”</p>
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<p>“Well, no. It’s just some puzzle pieces I’ve been putting together. I’ve been thinking a lot and it really makes sense, right? He was always leaving, every day, said he couldn’t bring a cell with him, when those were a thing at the end, right? Said no cell phones on the construction site. And he’d always come home dirty, and I just realized, it was actual dirt, right? He was coming home covered in dirt! Wouldn’t it be, like, cement or something? White stuff from those ceiling tiles? Why would it be dirt?”</p>
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<p>“I don’t know, maybe he was doing stuff outside? Maybe he was getting into management stuff at the end. Uh, foreman, or whatever.”</p>
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<p>“I guess, but it just doesn’t make any sense. And he’d never talk about his day, you know? He’d always just say it was boring and that no one would want to hear about it, and then he’d start drinking.”</p>
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<p>I shrugged, though I knew the fox couldn’t see it. “Sure, I mean, it kind of is, right?”</p>
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<p>I shrugged, though I knew the fox couldn’t see it. “Sure, I mean, it kind of is.”</p>
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<p>“But that’s just the thing! You’d think he’d at least say he was worn out or that he hated his coworkers or whatever the fuck you say about coworkers in a construction job, but he’d never say anything, right? And I think mom wants me to stay quiet about this, but I think he was doing some covert stuff, or maybe he was hiding from them! And he was on some sort of list and maybe I am now, too!” He was shouting again.</p>
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<p>“Hold on, Jace, where is this even coming from? I can’t keep up.”</p>
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<p>“Sarah, listen. This is important stuff. Don’t just brush me off if you–” </p>
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<p>“I’m not brushing you off, dude,” I growled into the phone. “I just can’t keep up, I can’t tell where this is coming from. We’ve never talked about your parents before.”</p>
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<p>Silence.</p>
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<p>“Sorry, that was kind of rough. I don’t mean to tell you to stop or anything. Just back up a little bit, okay? Did you talk to your mom recently?”</p>
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<p>His voice grew muffled and obscured by a series of clicks, and I imagined his claws tapping shakily at the screen as he swiped through apps. “Yeah, she sent me…she sent me a text. Here. She says, <em>Thinking of you and dad, you were always so alike</em> and then there’s a series of a bunch of numbers and then she said sorry. What does that mean? That’s gotta mean something, right? Like, maybe she’s trying to drop a hint? Fuck what if…what if I’m some…some kind of sleeper agent or whatever?”</p>
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<p>“I don’t–“</p>
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<p>“Gotta go,” he said, and then hung up on me.</p>
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<p>I blinked down at my phone and then the plaza around me. Some small part of me was smiling inwardly at how I must look: a weasel looking to the passersby, confusion in her eyes, as though they might somehow tell her what the fuck had just happened.</p>
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<p>Jason’s words were just so sharp. I could feel the sentences still tangling up my legs, thorns tugging at fur and tearing at skin. They clung to me still, dragging me down. Trying to unravel what he was trying to express on the phone was no easier than walking through a blackberry thicket.</p>
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<p>The conversation hadn’t lasted more than half an hour, and yet on thinking back, I couldn’t honestly say whether or not I had actually talked to my friend. Jason the goof. Jason the class clown who had nonetheless breezed through university a top-notch student. He was always so present. So here-and-now. Maybe not wholly grounded, but not…not who I had talked to earlier.</p>
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</article>
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<footer>
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<p>Page generated on 2021-04-03</p>
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<p>Page generated on 2021-04-05</p>
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</footer>
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</main>
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