[Note: The various voices on the recording will be color-coded for ease of identification, as well as getting around the need for the re-use of multiple tags. The final version will probably not have this feature.]
Her voice was somewhat husky, almost manly, with that nasal quality all but stereotypical of New Jersey. She may have been a smoker, but not anymore.
"We're just now entering Pennsylvania. Things took longer with your sister than expected, but at least we won't have to go back. Everything is settled up. We should be back in an hour or so. I thought you would be awake by now, but you just seem to sleep all the time now. Anyway, we'll pick you up at the DeSilva's and then talk more about your sister. She needs us right now."
"I need you right now?! Where were you when I dropped out of college? Where were you when I tried to talk to you about that, that thing?"
A second voice popped in, our sister, Candi. Much younger, without a trace of the huskiness or accent of her mother. I looked up from the phone to Sam. He gave a slight nod to confirm my suspicion.
"Rachel, I thought you were still asleep. I've got Sam on the phone. Try and be quiet."
"Oh, I should be quiet, just because you got me out of jail on a prostitution charge. Well, thank you for finally being there!"
I look back at Sam. He gives me another nod and silently mouths "I know," letting me know that he knows what "prostitution" is. I'm glad that I won't have to give him that talk, not that I have ever went that route to scratch an itch, mind you. I am much more prone to scratch myself.
"Rachel! Sam doesn't know about that part, yet. We were planning on telling him, later, after you were back at home. He's not old enough yet to know about such things." Well, he learned somewhere.
"Right, like I was too young to know about dad's films. I can't believe you never told me about them. One of my roommates just chuckled at me when she found out who my father is. I had to find out from one of my high school friends about what was on it. Her mother actually watches that stuff. I had to watch it with my girl friend. You could have told me, before I went to college."
"The lawyers have been trying to stop it for years now," Sam's mom cuts Candi off. "Because they were part of his official thesis, they were available for private and educational use. As long as no one tries to sell it or use it for financial gain, there is little that can be done. The professor in charge at the time was very unscrupulous. He probably sold some of the originals for profit, but it was never proven."
I can't believe what I'm hearing. Sam said he had been told about the films, soon after he hit puberty. About the same time Candi left. Maybe it was an end around, after his parents learned that the film might have caused Candi's problems.
"Well, the one I saw was boring. I guess that is why Kelley was laughing at me, and why Tony broke up with me after graduation. He knew about the films. Probably half the neighborhood knows, and they just enjoy knocking their. . . ."
"Found ladies aren't supposed to use such language! We have been trying to stop those perverts for years. And there aren't that many in town. Barely a dozen, and most keep it quiet and to themselves. At least they keep it away from children. Or they are supposed to." At least one has seen it, and I am looking at him again. Sam can't look at me, though. His head is down, and his eyes are darting in all directions.
"I bet you aren't treating Sam that way, is she now?" Candi raises her voice at this, making sure that the phone can pick her up. "Sam, the perfect little baby. The one both of you like more than me. I wasn't enough, so you had him, years after I first said I wanted a baby sister. But NO. You had to go and wait until I could be the one to help take care of him. So much older, that I couldn't play the same things. Dad has always liked him best." With this, I hear a loud sloshing, followed by a few gulps and a rather loud belch.
"Rachel! What are you drinking back there?"
"Just some 'Jack that I had stashed with the rest of my stuff at my house."
"How could you call that run-down rattrap a "house?" It wasn't even yours. It was abandoned, and you were squatting there with a few of your "friends" between jobs."
"Chill. I just starting walking a few weeks ago. I had other 'interests' that you don't know about yet. Still doesn't change the fact that you two will never treat Sam as badly as you have treated me. And Sam isn't even yours."
What?! "Sam isn't even yours?" What does she mean? I look up at Sam again. He's quiet, but I can tell he is about ready to cry.
"Shut up! How did you know?"
"I heard your argument the last Thanksgiving I was at home. I had already bought one of books for spring, when I heard you and dad arguing about how I was spending so much at college, even though we could easily afford it. Dad thought I was being too spending, but you said I needed it, unlike Sam's new top-of-the-line Mac. Almost equal to his. You were the one who brought up the money on the medical treatments so you could have Sam. And how he wasn't yours."
There is silence for a few seconds before Sam's mom answers.
"He wanted another son, after all I did to make sure he would never find his first one. Never mind we had a perfectly fine daughter. Never mind that I had three miscarriages that prevented me from getting pregnant again. Never mind all the money for a surrogate who wasn't even the carrier, just some random woman who got paid for an egg to host his donation from a cup. Never mind that we never checked to make sure the kid was even his. Never mind that this parasite is living with me and should never have been born, only because he was "lonely" and wanted to have forgiveness. I hate him. What's that?"
Before she gets and answer, I hear the screeching of brakes just before the loud smash of breaking glass and multiple thumps with more breaking glass.
I look up at Sam. This call was made just as the accident was happening. He's dry crying. I can see why. Not only is he hearing his family die, but the last words his 'mother' says to him is that she hates him. I motion to stop the playback, but Sam's hand darts out and stops me.
"There's more." He whispers, his voice finally cracking again.
I can't see what more would be on here. There's no moaning, only the occasional drip and the clink of falling glass. After almost two minutes, a siren blares into the background. It's following by multiple footsteps, from what sound like different directions.
"We've got a multiple vehicle accident. Checking now on victims." Must be a highway officer on the radio. First on the scene.
Another voice cuts in. "I don't know what happened. One of my rear tires just blew. I was hauling a load to Phily and, whoa, is that what. Oh no. Right through the head."
"Please sir, step away from the vehicle. Someone will be by soon to take your official statement."
"But that woman. She went right through the windshield. I can't even see her head. And that other one. The tire just snapped right into her."
"Sir, please move." I hear some shuffling as the driver leaves. "Two victims. Death appears to be near instantaneous. Driver is a woman, late forties or early fifties. She was using a wireless phone holder ... Oh my God! The phone is still on. She was calling her ..."
There was some muffling that prevented me from hearing the rest of the sentence. The recording ends. The officer must have ended the call. Sam turns the phone off soon after.
No wonder Sam has been so quiet. Hearing how his family died, in such brusque detail. That just added to the misery. Then, it hits me.
"Sam, where was our father? He wasn't in the car."
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