Thinks a second, then yanks me
all the way into her bedroom.
Okay, give. What’s up with you?
My throat goes thick and my fingers
numb. “What do you mean?”
Your aura. It’s like … ruby.
Oh my God. Freaking gypsy aunt.
“Um …” Can’t confess. “I, uh …”
You’re in love. Who is he?
She’s like a little kid at a pony ride.
Me too, on champagne. “B-Bryce.”
And why haven’t you mentioned him?
Now my brain buzzes anger. “You … uh …”
Go ahead, say it. “You’re never here.”
SHE DOESN’T DENY
She deflates. Like someone stuck
her with a pin and the champagne
bubbles escaped. You’re right. I’m sorry.
“It’s okay. I mean, you’re getting
married. It’s not like you should
be thinking about me, anyway.”
Her heads starts to shake. Getting
married doesn’t mean you’re not
important too. Tell me about Bryce.
We sit on her bed and I recite
the basic information, omitting
everything about today. And babies.
He s-sounds great, she sputters,
champagne kicking in. Do you
want to invite him to the wedding?
A member of the family already?
“Th-thanks. I’ll think about it.”
Sputtering a little myself, the first
time I’ve ever had alcohol go to
my head. Makes me laugh. Makes
me brave. Think I kind of like it.
Summer
STRADDLING A THIN WIRE
Three hundred feet in the air.
That’s how I feel.
Safe for the moment.
But not very.
December gray shrouds
the valley.
Nothing new. Except
colder than normal.
I was almost looking forward
to Christmas this year.
Thought maybe
it might be special.
Despite Dad and Kortni.
Because of Kyle.
But now I’m not even sure
where I’ll be.
The wire sways in the wind.
Half of me wants
to hold on for dear life.
Half wants to jump.
IT’S BEEN THIS WAY
Since Thanksgiving. The night
Dad got pulled over, less than
half a mile from Carrows.
When the red and blue carousel
started spinning behind us, we
all knew things didn’t look good.
Still, a guy has to give it his best
try. Dad rolled down the window.
Wussup, S … Off … cer?
The cop leaned to look in the car,
backed up at the smell. License
and registration. As if they were all
he was after. Flashlight illuminating
every move, Dad reached for
the glove box. Instinctively,
the cop’s hand slipped down
toward his hip, and the extremely
large pistol poised there. Slowly.
Dad rooted around for ten seconds
or so. ’S here somewhere. Hang on.
Finally he found the requisite paperwork.
Expired. All of it. But even if it
hadn’t been, Dad was going to jail
after breathing point one two.
A second cop arrived just in time
to help with the breathalyzer.
And, seeing as how Kortni was
also more than a little wobbly, he
ended up driving us home. They
called a tow truck for Dad’s car.
And since it was a holiday weekend,
both Dad and car stayed in lockup
for four days. Kortni slept for two
of them. Woke up, ate some cereal,
then jumped back on the beer train.
Kyle was in Fresno until Sunday.
His dad got pissed every time I called,
so I didn’t even have phone time for comfort.
I was stark, raving stir-crazy. Almost bored
enough by Saturday to get an early start
on my history essay. Almost enough by
Sunday to call Matt. Instead I called Mom.
CALLED FIRST
Around ten a.m.
No answer.
Left a voice mail.
Tried again
an hour later.
Same results.
Second voice mail.
The old saying
a charm.” Whoever said
it didn’t know Mom.
She never returned
my calls. But the fifth
time, I guess it was
sometime well after
two, she finally
picked up.
I SUSPECTED
She was using again, not only
because she was asleep (crashed)
at two p.m., but also because
she sounded spun. Her voice
was clipped. Staccato. Hello?
Summer? Is that you?
“Uh, yeah, Mom. How come
you were asleep?” Daring the lie.
It’s Sunday. I don’t work
Sunday. Don’t you ever sleep in?
“Not until two. Anyway, how
was your Thanksgiving?”
You called to ask that?
What’s wrong with you?
“Nothing. I’m fine. I mean,
well, Dad had a DUI….”
You don’t expect me to bail
him out, do you? Does he?
“Uh, no. I don’t … I didn’t
call about that, Mom….”
WHY DID I CALL?
It wasn’t just the boredom.
It was the question that had
been burning inside me for
three days. Mom prompted,
Okay, then. Why did you call?
And out it came, slick as
a baby pig. “Why didn’t you
ever tell me how you and Dad
met, and that I have a sister?”
Very long pause. Who told you?
Duh. “Who do you think, Mother?
Anyway, that doesn’t matter.
Don’t you think I have the right
to know something like that?”
Even longer pause. I guess so.
Anger seethed. “You guess
so? I know we don’t talk much,
and when we do, it’s usually
all about you, but—”
No pause. Now, wait a minute—
BUT I WAS ON A ROLL
“No, Mother. We usually do
only talk about you, and obviously
not about stuff that matters….”
My eyes stung, and the words
I wanted to say tried to stick
in my throat. I coughed them out.
“I have a sister. Where the hell
is she? What’s her name?
I already know who her father
is, and how you hooked up with
Dad and all. Have you always
been that way? Don’t you ever
feel bad? I mean, for God’s sake,
how can you just keep sleeping
around, piling one guy on top
of the next? How can you just
keep making babies, then tossing
them away? How can you …?”
Right about then I noticed
she had hung up the phone.
KORTNI BAILED DAD OUT
The next morning.
They might have
just booked him
&
nbsp; and let him go,
except for a couple
of pertinent things.
One: Not his first DUI.
He had one less
than two years ago.
Blood alcohol level:
point zero nine.
Two: Weed under
the seat. Less than
an ounce, but not
only fineable, also
contributable to his
condition that night.
He’s looking at
thirty days’ jail time,
license suspension,
and a big chunk of
change, and if he
can’t pay it, more
jail time. He goes
to court this week.
HE’S PRETTY MISERABLE
And I almost feel sorry for him.
Not that I didn’t try to warn him.
And I almost want to comfort him.
Not that he’s often been worthy of that.
And I almost want to give him a hug.
Not that I want anyone but Kyle to hug me.
And I almost want to say it will all work out.
Not that I really believe it will, for him. Or me.
And I almost want to tell him I love him.
Not that I have, since I was a little girl.
And I almost think I should fix that.
Who knows when I might have another chance?
HE’S ON THE PORCH
Smoking and, of course, sucking
up suds. Who knows when he might
have another chance at a good buzz?
Kortni went to town for groceries.
(She still has her driver’s license.)
So there’s an empty chair. I sit.
“Hey, Dad. I just want you to know …”
Say it. Say it. Say it. Can’t. Not yet.
“I’m sorry about what happened.”
He doesn’t look at me. Just stares
across the winter-bared fields.
Me too. Sometimes I’m plain stupid.
All the time. But I don’t tell him
I think so. Say it. Say it. Say it.
Ah, what the hell. “Love you, Dad.”
Now he looks at me, eyes drawing
slowly from the dirt, across dead
air, to my face. What did you say?
He didn’t hear? Didn’t believe
it? And now I have to repeat it?
“I said, uh … that I love you.”
I EXPECT
A reciprocal declaration—an “I love
you, too.” Or maybe condemnation—
a “Why don’t you say it more often?”
Anything, really, but what he does say:
Why?
“What do you mean, why? You’re my
dad, right?” Sounds lame, even to me.
So?
His one-word responses are pissing
me off. “Shouldn’t I love my father?”
Not necessarily.
Two words. Communication.
I realize, however, that he’s right.
Loving your parents is not required.
He inhales the last drag of his cigarette.
Get me a beer?
WHEN I RETURN
He is ready to talk, as if words
suddenly materialized in his brain.
First, a long drink of brew.
Then his mouth opens.
I’m sorry I’m such a shit-
for-brains. I thought I’d
be a better dad. Wanted
to be. Really, I did. But
then I let my bad habits
get the better of me.
I watch him pull another long
swallow. Light another cancer
stick. “It’s called addiction, Dad.”
I know. Can’t stop. And
to tell you the truth, even
if I could, I don’t want to.
You’re the only good thing
in my fucked-up life. And I
couldn’t even be thankful
enough to look after you
right. They took you away….
I want to shout, “No, you
shoved me away!” Instead
I say, “You’re selfish, Dad.”
He shakes his head, smoke
escaping side to side from
the corners of his mouth.
Not always. Nope. At first
it was all about your mother.
I loved her. God. Never love
someone that much, because
you’re sure to end up hurt.
I would have married her.
Would have raised up your
sister like my own. Would
have raised you better….
This is the most he’s ever
spoken to me at one time.
Ever. “So what happened?”
When she got pregnant with
you, I told her all that, begged
her to give up the crystal.
To be fair, she tried to clean
up. For you. Tried and mostly
failed. Meth is a mean mother
monster. But even if she could
have given it up, the fact is
she loved Trey more than she
ever loved me. Or anyone.
LEFT UNSAID:
Even me.
I always knew
she chose drugs
over me. Now I
find out she chose
some-guy-not-my-
father over me too.
Happy as I am
to have any new
information that
imparts insight re:
what made me, me,
and why I’m here,
I need more
answers. Now, while
he’s hopefully stuck
in verbal mode, is
the time to strike.
After we catch our
collective breath.
Understanding
my father is suddenly
important. Not sure
why. Understanding
my mother very well
might be impossible.
BUT I HAVE TO TRY
So here goes. “How did
I end up with you when
Mom went to prison?”
He looks at me like I’m
speaking Chinese. Hasn’t
anyone ever told you this
stuff? Not your mom? Not
my mom? Seriously?
“If someone had, I wouldn’t
be asking, Dad. Not like
I need to have stories
repeated. I’m not a little kid.”
He smiles tightly. Even when
you were little, you never
did want to hear the same
story twice. Buying books
for you was a waste of money,
not that we ever had a whole
lot to waste. So, okay, how
much, exactly, do you know?
“Only what you told me at
Thanksgiving. That she was
married to your old friend, Trey,
and that you broke them up.”
HE COCKS HIS HEAD
Reaching way back into his brain,
trying to locate that night.
I said that? Guess I was pretty
buzzed. Don’t remember it at all.
Yes, Trey and I were friends, and I was
passing through. Don’t remember
where to, but once I was there a few
days, I didn’t want to leave. Ever.
“Because of the dope or
because of Mom?”
Both. Oh my God. You can’t imagine
how much crystal they were moving.
And as for your mom, she was skinny
as hell, and a total tweaker bitch,
but I fell for her right off. Something
in thos
e eyes, and she was wild in b—
Way TMI, Dad. Still, “Uh, it’s okay.
Obviously you guys had sex.”
It was more than that, at least
for me. I was flat in love with her.
Which was a fucked-up thing to be.
Trey wasn’t around much.
Working a little. Dealing a lot.
Kristina and I were tight for a while.
He stops. Lights another cig.
Stares at his empty beer can.
I should get him one. The deadly duo
seems to be fueling his storytelling.
I don’t think she ever really loved
me, though. She was crazy about
Trey. She liked making him jealous.
Which was dangerous for both of
us. He did have a temper! When
he found out about us, he freaked.
Dad looks longingly at the empty
again. This time I just go get one.
A very long swig and he begins
again. We got into it pretty good.
But even if I would have beat
the crap out of him, she wouldn’t
have chosen me. I got the picture
and left. Didn’t know she was pregnant….
PREGNANT WITH ME
Mom never did figure out the birth
control thing. I might be worried
about my paternity, except I look
almost exactly like Dad. Lucky me.
Like most mid-level dealers, they
smoked up the profits, and Denny’s tips
didn’t exactly cover what they owed
their supplier. Your mom got creative.
And she got busted. She and Trey
had already turned state’s evidence
once to get off a trafficking charge.
This time they were going away
for fraud. Check kiting. Identity theft.
They got two years in state prison.
Your mom delivered you the day
before they sent her away. Her mother
took you home from the hospital.
Kept you safe. Until she found me.
I’VE ALWAYS FELT
A strange connection
to Grandma Marie. Strange,
because we don’t see each other
all that often. Also a sort
of jealousy because
of Hunter. I mean, she
and Grandpa Scott adopted
him. When I was younger, and
in foster care, I wondered
why him and not me?
And I thought it was
because they didn’t have
enough love to go around. Semi-