Glass - 02 (7 page)

Hoping the house is still

silent, and it is. Down

the hall, into my room,

where I quietly seek

out a new stash place,

then lie down on my bed.

The pink silk quilt is almost

too soft. Part of me—a small

part, growing smaller by

the minute—demands penance.

That small part, the Kristina

part, keeps whispering

what a fool the other,

Bree part, is. “Not only

were you stupid to sneak

back to the monster,” she

mumbles, “but ten to one

you’re going to get caught.

Mom and Scott will know.”

The Bree part just stares

contentedly at the ceiling,

really comfortable for the

first time in too many months.

Meth. Tobacco. A chance

at a spectacular guy, even

if he does live three hours

away, over a major mountain.

I get to Reno sometimes.

Will he come just for me?

“Yeah, right,” Kristina

says. “Trey is going to

dump Robyn (who no

doubt gives him head

after giving him money)

and drive over the Sierras

for a frumpy chick with a

baby, who lives with her

parents, who are going to

bust her anyway.”

[Shut the hell up.] Bree

talking, damn her sharp,

irritating whisper. [Don’t

talk too much, keep your

(my) temper in check, leave

the ranting to Mom and Scott,

you’ll (we’ll) be just fine.

And whatever you do,

leave your conscience—

and confessions—behind.]

I sit in bed, arguing

with myself until the sun

peeks up over the eastern

hills, eyes almost as red

as mine must be. Just about

the time the sky shimmers

light, Hunter wakes up.

I go to him quickly, hustle

into the kitchen to fix him

a bottle, kissing him quiet.

Since Mom was up so

incredibly late last night

(worrying about me!)

[hey, conscience, remember?],

she might just sleep in.

Maybe she’ll be so rested

that she’ll only give me

the second degree. I’m

sure not in any mood

for the third.

Mom and a friend of hers

always go to the gym early

to work out. Which means

no way will she sleep in.

She pads into the kitchen,

notices I’m feeding Hunter.

Glad to see you made it home

okay. What time did you get in?

I suppose I could lie, but

that’s just stupid. “Around

four thirty, I guess. I’ll take

a nap when Hunter does.”

Mom gives me a solid once-

over, but if she notices

anything, keeps it to herself.

So how was the college fair?

College fair? Oh, yeah.

“Okay, I guess. It’s a

pretty nice campus and all.

Robyn seems to like it.”

She looks at me harder.

Robyn’s at UOP, isn’t she?

I thought you said the college

fair was in Sacramento.

One thing meth is good

for—manufacturing lies

sans hesitation. “I always mix

up Stockton and Sacramento.”

She stares me straight in

the eye.
Good thing you

didn’t mix them up when

you were behind the wheel.

“Heh-heh. Yeah, you’re

right. Oops. Smells like

Hunter’s breakfast went

right through him….”

I start to get up, but Mom

puts a severe hand on my

arm.
One second. I need to

talk to you about something.

I swallow hard. Does

she hear Bree’s voice

in my mouth, see the

monster in my eyes? “What?”

Leigh called. She’s planning

on coming home for your

birthday. I thought it might be

a good time to baptize Hunter.

Relief floods my face

like a hot, red tidal wave.

“Baptize Hunter? Oh.

Yeah. Well, I guess so.”

Good. I’ll talk to Pastor

Keith at church tomorrow

morning. You should

think about godparents.

Jeez, is that it? Inquisition

over? “Godparents. Right.

Meanwhile, diaper patrol.”

I make a hasty exit.

Hmm. Baptize Hunter? I’ve

never considered it, let alone

who I’d want to take care

of him, should something

bad happen to me. I don’t

have any friends who could

fill such big shoes. Mom

and Scott? Can grandparents

be godparents? Maybe Leigh?

But would I have to name her

partner, too? And how would

Pastor Keith feel about that?

Thoughts and ideas volley

back and forth in my head.

I put Hunter in his swing,

watch him rock along.

I feel exhilarated. I feel rotten.

I know I’ve made a terrible

mistake. I’m ecstatic that

I found a way to make it.

Now I have to face Scott,

who finally comes downstairs,

“pissed” written all over his face.

Well, look who decided to

grace us with her presence.

I can’t believe how rude you are.

I didn’t have to take it from

Mom. Should I take it from

husband number two? “Sorry.”

Yeah, whatever. Just don’t

expect to borrow one of our

cars again anytime soon.

All the more reason to find

a way to keep my own vehicle

in tip-top shape. “I won’t.”

Did you apologize to your

mother? She sat up half

the night, worrying about you.

Irritation blossoms. And I’m

starting to want another

little toot. “Yes, I apologized.”

Damn straight. Kristina, you’re

a mom yourself now. Can you

not relate, just a little bit?

Like Hunter is going to

borrow a car and stay out all

night anytime soon. “Sure.”

Good. All it takes is a simple

phone call, okay? That’s why

we gave you the cell phone.

“I’m really, truly sorry, Scott.

Robyn and I just got to par…uh,

talking, and I lost track of time.”

Okay, Kristina. I can understand

that. I know it’s been a while

since you’ve spent time with a friend.

He’s letting me off this easy?

Unreal. “Yes, it has. Thanks

for understanding, Scott.”

Just don’t forget you won’t find

a better friend in the world than

the friends you have in your family.

Jake is at a friend’s.

I put Hunter down

for a nap, decide to try

one myself. My

brain

might be doing

jumping jacks, but my

body is shutting down.

It feels like a lead anchor,

sinking

in a sea of quilt,

tugging me toward repose.

I’m drifting. Sleeping?

A parade of

faces

floats behind my closed

eyes. An ethereal Robyn

grins, her ecru face

distorting

into a vampirelike apparition.

Right behind her comes Trey

(predator or prey?),

handsome

and hungry as a winter-

starved coyote. Segue

to Grady, Grade-E loser,

vile

convenience store

slave and crystal meth

submissive, followed

by Leigh, my absent,

beautiful

sister, with her lesbian

lover, the cheerleader.

Then Mom and Scott, who

must suspect the

uglier

side of last night’s adventure.

So why didn’t they lash

out at me, bombard me

with

questions, search my stuff,

smell my breath, something?

Do they just not want

to know for sure, stress

themselves with such

wisdom?

Or have they, perhaps,

simply given up

on me?

Of wanting to sleep,

desperately needing sleep,

fighting the monster for sleep,

reminds me of one reason

I have been happy to leave

the meth in Hunter’s wake.

Though it’s calling to me,

Just one more little toot,

I simply will not give in.

I
will keep the monster in

check. I
am stronger

than any addiction. Right?

Somewhere, a telephone

rings. I swim up into gray

afternoon, the inside of

my head thick as chowder,

tug myself from bed,

go to find the offending bell.

I don’t get there quickly

enough. Hunter wakes

at the alarm, and by the time

I reach the phone, nap-wet

baby soaking one arm,

the caller is midmessage.

…
haven’t been out your way

in a long time. I figured

your eighteenth birthday

was a good excuse. Besides,

I want to see my grandson

while he’s still a baby. We

should hit Reno on the twenty
-

eighth, so save a few hours

to celebrate with your old man.

Is coming for

a visit?

(Why now, after

all these years?)

And not just

any visit,

but on the weekend

of my birthday,

when Leigh is

also coming for

an unexpected visit.

Leigh, who still

refuses to speak

to the father who

left her in his dust.

A visit now,

the same time as

Hunter’s baptism?

I can just hear

Mom:
That bastard

has to plan

a visit to Reno,

a place your sister

and I figured he’d

forgotten about?

Why does he have to

remember it now?

Exactly that. She doesn’t.

But what she
does
say is enough

to make you cover your ears.

I never knew my mom could

have such a foul mouth! You

fill in the blanks. They scare me!

That mother——ing sonofabitch!

Did he spend all year, waiting

for just the right——sucking

moment to f—up what should

be a perfect day? He has no

——ing right! No right at all.

I simply cannot believe

that pr—would dare show

his face around here,

not after last year. And as for

his wanting to play “grandpa,”

I really don’t think so!

I’m conflicted about his plans.

I want no confrontations, no bad

blood. (Especially not if it’s going

to be spilled in the baptismal

fount, or over the icing on

my birthday cake!)

But, despite everything that

went down over my summer

in Albuquerque, I want to see

Dad again. He’s a freak, true,

and a piss-poor father.

But he still belongs to me.

And suddenly she seems to intuit

my inner turmoil, which only

serves to make her angrier still.

You
can’t
want him to come

here, Kristina? Do you really

want him to spoil this special day?

What can I say but the truth?

“Why does he have to spoil

anything, Mom? You’ve been

divorced, like, forever. Can’t

you bury the hatchet—and not

literally? Can’t you just let it go?”

Hunter starts to fuss—he’s still

soggy—and Mom takes him

from my arms.
I’ll never forgive

him for the way he treated his

family, Kristina, or for the path

he put you on last year.

Okay, that’s just not fair.

“You can stay mad at him

forever, Mom. I don’t care.

But you can’t blame him for

the choices I made. He didn’t

make those decisions for me.”

She levels me with a single

glare. [Damn, that’s a real talent.]

I suppose that’s true, and I guess

I can’t stop him from coming.

She hands me the phone.

But
you
have to tell your sister.