Love and Leftovers (13 page)

“See!” Mom shouts at Dad.

“You’re encouraging her!

I can’t deal with this.

I just can’t deal with this. . . .”

Funny

but when Mom

has one of her

breakdowns

the only person

who can glue the pieces

together again

is still Daddy.

In the Aftermath of Operation Sedate My Mother

In the morning,

my father

takes me out

for doughnuts,

which we eat

on the porch

of the summerhouse,

our coffee cups

and our breath

steaming.

“Your mom and I

decided

it would be best

if you

came back to Boise,

with me.”

Protesting

“But Mom needs me!”

“Marcie,” he says, “she’ll be all right.”

“No, Daddy, you don’t know how it is.

Mom
needs
me.”

I plunk my coffee cup on the railing,

stomp down the steps.

“You weren’t here,

you wouldn’t know,” I tell him

over my shoulder as

I make my escape.

“She needs me.

She needs me.”

I chant as I jog,

finding my pace

and enjoying

the crunch of snow

under my sneakers.

“She needs me.

She needs me.”

Escort

How I Got to the Bottom of Things

Lungs burning,

thighs screaming,

and chest heaving,

I stumble up the steps

to our apartment.

Mom looks up from her coffee. “Marcie, honey?”

“Dad says I need to go.

That’s not right,

right?

It’s not true,

is it?”

“Sweetie,” she says, dropping her voice,

like she’s saying it’s true

without speaking the words.

Realization

I collapse

in a

hardly breathing

sweaty mess

on the couch,

hiccuping tears

into the pillows

and realize

that

she doesn’t

need me.

In fact,

she doesn’t even

want
me.

December 22–8:32 P.M.

My Good-byes

to Sam, Conner,

and the popular girls

are short and sweet

on the day before

Christmas break.

I return my textbooks,

my combination lock.

I empty my locker

into a box.

I kiss J.D.

quickly

and hug him

innocently

because my dad

is standing

behind us.

Holidaze

I am in no mood for Christmas.

How can I celebrate this morning

when I was up all night listening to

my parents talk about getting a divorce?

Dad was begging Mom not to

because the courts wouldn’t look at him too favorably.

And he doesn’t want to lose me.

He offered her health insurance, rent, and a car

in exchange for me.

He promised not to get married again,

and that he’d sign the papers if she wanted to remarry.

She said that she didn’t need

his health insurance,

his money,

his car,

or his permission.

Christmas Dinner

I think it’s a conspiracy,

Mom and Dad against me.

(They have driven me to Manchester,

where I can’t possibly sneak out

to devour J.D.)

Until

Arthur insists that Dad carve the turkey.

Dad accepts, not wanting to be rude.

But my mother protests under her breath,

so low only Greta and Grammie Iris can hear.

Grammie Iris gives my mother

a disapproving glance

as if Mom

were still

a child.

Comfort

Gigi and I take a nap

on Arthur’s bed

just to get away from it all.

“Mahcie?” she says

when I think she is asleep.

“I know it’s hard to imagine,

but they’ll figure things out.”

“Thanks, Gigi,” I say.

“Your G’pa and I had our moments,

but we always did what was best

for our children.

That’s what parents do.”

Back to Bed

I sneak out for a run

before Mom wakes up.

(Dad has a hotel room.)

Taking the route around Mill Pond

and up Faculty Row,

I tap-tap on J.D.’s door

instead of ringing the bell.

“He’s sleeping,” his littlest sister tells me.

“And I’m
not
waking him up.”

She lets me in anyway,

as if she plans on summoning

someone else to interrupt her brother’s slumber.

Tiptoeing up the stairs,

she beckons me to follow.

At the top she opens a bedroom door.

“You do it,” she says.

In the slanted polygons of morning light

that edge their way around the blinds,

J.D. sleeps on his stomach.

His face is smooshed into the pillow.

And he doesn’t look like the grizzly bear

his sister had imagined.

In Bed

I fell asleep

wrapped in J.D.’s blankets

wrapped in J.D.’s embrace

wrapped in J.D.’s sleepy warmth

I awoke

tangled in flannel sheets

tangled in J.D.’s arms

tangled in my dreams.

Blinking the room into focus,

“I Am.”

“Because Mom doesn’t want me,

and Daddy wants me home.”

“I want you.”

“J.D.,” I whine,

“don’t make this harder than it already is.”

With that he giggles

and buries his face in the pillow.

“It’s not funny. It’s sad,” I insist.

His ears turn pink as he gasps for air.

“You want something to laugh about?

I’ll give you something to laugh about!”

He shakes his head.

I wiggle my fingers

under his arms and tickle.

J.D. rolls on his side,

frees his arms,

and reaches for me.

I shriek as his tickles dig at my ribs.

I wrestle for a grip on his wrists,

pushing his back flat to the mattress.

“
Not
funny.”

“Okay, okay, but just so you know,

next time you crawl into bed with some guy,

don’t expect him
not
to wake up with a hard-on.”

It’s my turn to giggle and blush.

I punch his shoulder.

“I was talking about leaving

being, uh—difficult.

Not
what’s going on in your pants.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Mahcie.”

Time Well Wasted

That’s how we spent the day

drizzling sarcasm over the truth

dropping bad jokes like f-bombs

dabbing smiles over sad silences

dribbling giggles into quiet corners

dusting each other’s lips with breezy kisses

dripping good-bye tears into Little Bay.

But Before I Left

J.D. and I had a serious conversation.

“Neither you nor I are good

at long-distance relationships,” I said.

“Because of me and Megan?” he asks.

“And Linus and me.”

“So you want to break up?”

“I don’t
want
to.

I just know this won’t work.

I’ll get lonely. I’ll miss you.”

“And you’d wonder if I met someone,”

J.D. said.

“Oh, I know you’d meet someone.

And you’d say, ‘Let’s be just friends.’”

“And she’d have these baby-blue eyes,

short dark hair, and a cute backside.”

“You’d kiss her and say you’re sorry.”

“Her big panties would drive me crazy.”