a man with a shiny bald head and face and a sour smile who identified himself as the cafeteria supervisor, with the news, astonishing to Katya, that Essie Spivak hadn't been working at the clinic since March. But where was she? Katya asked, frightened, and the man said, with that pleased sour smile, he had no idea, but she wasn't here. Katya could not believe this. Her mother had been working at the Cumberland clinic for at least two years; often she told Katya and Lisle she felt good about herself, this was a good time in her life right now. Usually Katya's mother came home from work at about 7 P.M. , sometimes later, five days a week; weekends, she sometimes worked a half-day. Or so Katya had believed. Her mother had not told anyone in the family that she'd quit the clinic or been fired, Katya was sure. Unless it was known and Katya had been shielded from the news: but why? Katya asked the sour-smiling man why her mother wasn't working there any longer, and the sour-smiling man said, shrugging, "Ask her. She's your mother, isn't she?"
Dazed and shaken, Katya ran home. Ran through the house shouting, "Mom! Momma! Where are you!" though knowing that no one was there. Tracey had married the previous winter and moved away, and Katya's brothers, Dewayne and Ralph, had moved out. Only Lisle, who was a junior at Vineland High, remained at home, but she was often gone. In the kitchen in the refrigerator Katya found a Molson ale. Two ales she drank from the cans within forty minutes, sprawled on the sofa staring at MTV, and then she dozed off. She woke confused and frightened: it was dark in the living room, dark outside; there were voices in the kitchen. Katya's mother had been driven home by her man friend Artie, who'd been introduced to Katya and Lisle as a coworker of Essie's at the Cumberland clinic. Now Katya had to wonder who Artie was. Stumbling to her feet as her mother switched on the overhead light: "There was a bomb threat at school, but it didn't go off. I mean, the bomb didn't go off. They sent us home early." Katya spoke strangely; words seemed to tumble from her mouth. Her lips felt numb, rubbery. She was laughing at the expression of alarm, concern on her mother's face: "A bomb? Jesus."
Essie Spivak was in her early or mid-forties, and her skin was slightly coarse and her eyebrows too severely plucked, yet she was an attractive woman. She had dyed her graying hair dark cranberry red, which gave her an exotic, glamorous look. You'd expect her lipstick to be dark maroon, but it was a pale frosted pink-bronze that, thickly layered on her mouth, looked like an extra skin. She wore shoes with clattery heels and black designer jeans with glitter studs, a peach-colored designer blouse with a V neckline that exposed the tops of her creamy, shapely breasts. Her hips and belly were full, shapely. Her inch-long fingernails gleamed pink-bronze like her mouth and were filed with stylish blunt edges. She was smoking; she shifted her burning cigarette to her left hand and came to hug Katya with a sob of concern. "Jesus! Sweetie! A bomb! Thank God you're in one piece..." Stiffly Katya stood, feeling her mother's strong arms, her mother's breasts, which felt like balloons filled with warm water. It had been a long time since Katya's mother had hugged her. Katya's eyes filled with tears. These were involuntary tears; these were tears of outrage. Badly Katya wanted to push her mother away with her sharp elbows. Wanted to stab those balloon-breasts with her elbows. Yet badly Katya wanted to burrow into her mother's arms and cry, You are a liar, you don't love me or any of us. In the kitchen, someone was opening and shutting the refrigerator door. Must've been Momma's man friend, Artie, which might mean that Artie would be staying for supper with them or it might mean that Katya's mother was going out again, with Artie. And Katya could go with them, maybe. Katya shut her eyes, which were leaking tears, thinking, Don't ask.
15
"A
Dazed and shaken, Katya ran home. Ran through the house shouting, "Mom! Momma! Where are you!" though knowing that no one was there. Tracey had married the previous winter and moved away, and Katya's brothers, Dewayne and Ralph, had moved out. Only Lisle, who was a junior at Vineland High, remained at home, but she was often gone. In the kitchen in the refrigerator Katya found a Molson ale. Two ales she drank from the cans within forty minutes, sprawled on the sofa staring at MTV, and then she dozed off. She woke confused and frightened: it was dark in the living room, dark outside; there were voices in the kitchen. Katya's mother had been driven home by her man friend Artie, who'd been introduced to Katya and Lisle as a coworker of Essie's at the Cumberland clinic. Now Katya had to wonder who Artie was. Stumbling to her feet as her mother switched on the overhead light: "There was a bomb threat at school, but it didn't go off. I mean, the bomb didn't go off. They sent us home early." Katya spoke strangely; words seemed to tumble from her mouth. Her lips felt numb, rubbery. She was laughing at the expression of alarm, concern on her mother's face: "A bomb? Jesus."
Essie Spivak was in her early or mid-forties, and her skin was slightly coarse and her eyebrows too severely plucked, yet she was an attractive woman. She had dyed her graying hair dark cranberry red, which gave her an exotic, glamorous look. You'd expect her lipstick to be dark maroon, but it was a pale frosted pink-bronze that, thickly layered on her mouth, looked like an extra skin. She wore shoes with clattery heels and black designer jeans with glitter studs, a peach-colored designer blouse with a V neckline that exposed the tops of her creamy, shapely breasts. Her hips and belly were full, shapely. Her inch-long fingernails gleamed pink-bronze like her mouth and were filed with stylish blunt edges. She was smoking; she shifted her burning cigarette to her left hand and came to hug Katya with a sob of concern. "Jesus! Sweetie! A bomb! Thank God you're in one piece..." Stiffly Katya stood, feeling her mother's strong arms, her mother's breasts, which felt like balloons filled with warm water. It had been a long time since Katya's mother had hugged her. Katya's eyes filled with tears. These were involuntary tears; these were tears of outrage. Badly Katya wanted to push her mother away with her sharp elbows. Wanted to stab those balloon-breasts with her elbows. Yet badly Katya wanted to burrow into her mother's arms and cry, You are a liar, you don't love me or any of us. In the kitchen, someone was opening and shutting the refrigerator door. Must've been Momma's man friend, Artie, which might mean that Artie would be staying for supper with them or it might mean that Katya's mother was going out again, with Artie. And Katya could go with them, maybe. Katya shut her eyes, which were leaking tears, thinking, Don't ask.
15
"A
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