This Little Light - Lori Lansens Page 0,52

it and was surprised to see some sketch strangers, not clinic employees, working in the operating room. She wondered what was going on, so she listens at the door and she hears these people laughing and she looks inside and sees these skeez guys there smoking weed and sorting the frozen bagged fetuses from that week’s abortions, separating them into three bins. One of the bins was labeled Medical. Another was labeled Cosmetic. The third bin had no label.

The other girls were hanging on Jinny’s words, but I couldn’t let her go on. “That’s not true, Jinny. None of that was ever proven.”

“Abortion clinics were definitely selling dead babies to the cosmetic company for that thousand-dollar firming cream, Rory. Everyone knows that.”

“My mother said all of that stuff was made up. Propaganda.”

“Well, my mother’s best friend saw it with her own eyes.” Jinny made a screw-face.

“What was the third bin for?” Zee asked.

“Well, my mom’s friend wondered about that too. So she got in her car and waited until they’d loaded the bins into this van and she followed.”

“She didn’t call the cops?” I said.

“No. She followed the truck for an hour to this suburban neighborhood, and this guy gets out of the van and he takes the Cosmetic bin to the door and this geezer answers and smiles and gives the guy a briefcase, which was obviously full of cash, and he takes the bin like it’s pizza delivery and goes back inside. Well, guess what? That guy was a retired chemist who was working for that cosmetic company. My mother’s friend outed him later that night. And he’s in jail right now. For life.”

I grabbed my phone. Ready to google. “What was his name?”

“Don’t remember.”

“I call bullshit.”

She ignored me. “She keeps following the van and the guys take the next bin—the one labeled Medical—to the parking lot of a vape shop and he gives it to a guy in a black car parked outside. He gets a duffel bag in exchange, which was also, obviously, full of money.”

“I can’t believe you believe this stuff. There was no evidence for any of those things, Jinny.”

Dee piped up. “Unproven doesn’t mean untrue.”

Zee goes, “So what about the bin with no label?”

“Well, she keeps following, right, and they drive and drive and she’s wondering if they’re going to Cleveland or something, and it’s been like an hour, and she’s getting tired, and then the van pulls up outside this Chinese restaurant.”

I groaned, loudly.

We’d all heard the rumors. For years. Everyone had. Urban legend. People point to those disgusting rumors as part of the reason the government defunded Planned Parenthood. We girls had discussed the fact that we did not believe the old stories.

“Stop,” I said. “Please stop, Jinny.” I thought I might throw up at the table.

Jinny paused. “You’re calling my mother’s best friend a liar?”

“I’m just saying stop.”

“Fertility soup.” She stared at me.

“No.”

Dee’s chin started quivering.

“Those stories are really dangerous, Jinny. It’s like people used to tell stories about Jews with horns and all. It’s just too much.”

Fee, who had been focused on her frozen yogurt during the whole exchange, looked up and said, “Can we agree to disagree and talk about shoes for the ball instead? Mr. Tom said he’ll buy me the Miu Mius.”

Dee clapped. “Told you he would!”

Zee tilted her head. “People used to say Jews have horns?”

“Yes. And tails. And that we smell like sulfur.”

Fee put her nose in my neck and goes, “Only if sulfur smells like Dior.” Then she realized I was burning up with fever. “We gotta get you home.”

That night, I was too sick to watch Jinny from my window, but I imagined her convo with the Jesus fan was pretty lively, as she no doubt shared with Him, like a proud daughter, the many righteous acts of her day.

Now I want to remind Fee about that day of the track meet, and how Jinny was fanning the flames with that story about fertility soup. I want to make her understand that Jinny sees her acts of aggression as a service to God, and that makes her freaking dangerous. If she could only see how truly warped Jinny Hutsall is, I think Fee’d join me in my fear and loathing instead of resisting me, and the truth.

But she’s busy looking out the window, leaning against the wall for support. All she’s said in the past little while is, “Winds are starting back up.”

The drunk guy’s truck is still in his driveway. I