Hello, Little Sparrow by Jordan Jones (the reading list .TXT) 📕

work, moving in the same ways her mother would when she cooked. Humming the same tunes. Reacting the same way when she sipped from the spoon.

Viv would be proud. I knew I was.

I found it difficult to keep from thinking how the family was all those years ago. My father was involved with raising her more than most grandfathers. He would talk her into getting into just enough mischief to keep her from serious punishment.

He helped pay her athletic fees and other school fees behind our backs. He even sent her to a more prestigious middle school without telling us.

When I found out I was at the wrong school on the first day, I was livid. But, nothing ever came of it. He grandparented her how he wanted to and we did it our way.

I would like to believe it made her a better person, but that was difficult to gauge. She was a bright young woman, but behind the sneaky smile and elegant demeanor, she was as manipulative as the day was long.

Her food was done and she plopped down next to me.

“So, what is there to do here?” she asked, dunking her spoon into her bowl.

I gave a big stretch and leaned back against the blinds and yawned. “Sleep,” I answered her after a long pause.

“I guess I could do some work. These assignments are ridiculous,” she finally said.

“Can you answer my question?” I asked.

“Dad…”

“I’m serious.” I cleared my throat in an attempt to delay the inevitable. “Why don’t you ever come and see me anymore?”

She sighed and was obviously annoyed. I had her trapped now. Earlier she was bailed out by LT Anderson breaking into the room.

Now she had nowhere to go.

“I think you know,” she said. “You know why.”

She was right…I did. It was a hard pill to swallow, but I thought that I at least deserved some gratitude for how far I’ve helped her go.

“That’s not good enough for me,” I responded. My tone was slightly more aggressive than I meant it to be. “I pay for everything for you. Room. Board. Food. Gas. Everything.”

She looked up at me from a slouched position with her eyes narrowed and mouth open.

“That’s not even close to what you pay for,” she said. “Mom and Craig pay for almost everything. You help me with gas money and groceries. Western Maine State is expensive. You help a little, but it’s not on par with what they do for me.”

The needle struck hard through my side hearing that. I was almost convinced I was Katherine’s gravy train to a four-year degree, but I was only able to pay for groceries?

Vivian’s real estate business no doubt took off on the west coast; that much was clear. She told me she wasn’t going to help Katherine with her schooling, which was part of the divorce decree. Then, she decides to help her out behind my back.

I felt swindled.

The pride I felt in paying for Katherine’s schooling was incalculable, but that feeling was beginning to fade away. I was unsure how I should feel.

“Anyway,” she said. “I still feel weird about the way you two ended it. A lot of iffy stuff went on and I always thought you two wanted me to pick sides. I don’t know. I just know I don’t like it.”

“I didn’t mean to make you pick sides,” I said quietly.

“There were other things, but I don’t want to get into that.” She picked up her soup, gave me a kiss on the forehead, and went into one of the bedrooms.

The blinds remained half open and I looked out at the officer sitting in the car. The other was walking around, shining his flashlight in the brush on both sides of the road.

At least they were doing their jobs. They didn’t like the post, but they took it seriously.

Maybe they weren’t so bad.

I spent the night reading Plato’s Republic with the fire crackling in the fireplace. The shadows danced along the walls, mixing in with the harmonies running though my head.

Socrates argued about justice and morality to a bunch of wannabe philosophers. They asked if the just man is happier than the unjust man.

I wasn’t so sure.

The Sparrow seemed to be enjoying his work and I seemed to be dreading mine.

But, he did appear just in his work.

It wasn’t fair to call him unjust, especially in his eyes. He was someone with direction in his life, and I had none. Everything was planned out, calculated, and maneuvered for me to be a police detective.

Alvin Dugger made himself known to me at the right time.

My father was a police captain at the right time. Everything fell into place, and it felt awful.

A just person does what they feel is just, no matter how warped their ethics were. The Sparrow fit this category, and even I couldn’t argue that his slayings weren’t completely unjustified.

I couldn’t believe where my mind was going. My thoughts were enmeshing with that of a serial killer, one that attempted to take my life.

But, he didn’t. In fact, he purposefully saved my life. He gave me reason to live, though the reason hid somewhere between my own self-doubt and fear. I’m sure it was snuggled next to the crippling depression that continued to pull me down into the earth every chance it could.

It was a part of me, and I of it. The choice I made going forward would dictate the rest of my life.

Was being a police officer still what I wanted to do? Did the bad outweigh the good?

What was the good?

I popped a few more Vicodin and laid down on the couch. There was another bed, but I wasn’t worthy of it. My best friend was a serial killer by