Downers Grove by Michael Hornburg

“Dan has some business in Las Vegas and he asked me to come along.”
    â€œWhat kind of business?”
    â€œOh you know, religious stuff.”
    â€œSince when does God hang out in Vegas?”
    â€œI’ll be back on Monday. No parties! Do you hear me young lady?” She acted all authoritarianlike and everything. “I left some money and the number for the Stardust Hotel beside the phone. There’s spaghetti sauce thawing in the fridge.” Shekissed me on the cheek and then scribbled on another layer of lipstick. Dan pulled into the driveway. I heard the car door slam, then the doorbell rang.
    Mom opened the door. “You’re late,” she said. Dan kissed her. Her shoulders caved and she let out a crazy giggle and gently pushed him away. “Stop it,” she said.
    â€œHi, Chrissie.” He waved at me all innocent, like he was Tom Sawyer taking Becky for a peek in the caves. The astronaut took my mother’s bags and locked them in the trunk, then swung around the car and opened the door for her.
    â€œYou keep an eye on your brother,” Mom said, pointing at me, then leaned into the car. Dan closed Mom’s door then pranced over to his.
    Standing at the window was like watching a movie of my own life ending, the cameras still rolling. Mom waved at me from behind the windshield and I waved back at her. The car slid out of the driveway and curled up the cul-de-sac. My stomach was queasy. I went into the kitchen and poured myself a Diet Coke.
    The basement door cracked open and the troll popped out of his crypt. “How are we supoosed to get food?” my brother asked, standing in the stairwell, wrapped in his musty bathrobe, suddenly paranoid about his dwindling frozen waffle supply.
    â€œYou’ll just have to learn how to use the microwave all by yourself,” I said. “Don’t you think there are a few slightly larger issues here?”
    â€œWhat? Are we out of frozen pizza?”
    â€œYou’re about to be adopted!”
    David waddled into the kitchen like a hundred-year-old man and opened the freezer. “I don’t know what you’re gettingso worked up about, that guy is about as dangerous as a couch.”
    â€œI think they’re going to Vegas to get hitched.”
    â€œWell then, we should celebrate.” He shut the freezer door and opened the refrigerator.
    â€œThat’s it?”
    â€œYou got any better ideas?”

DEATH PRINCESS
    I went upstairs and lay down on my bed. If I had a dollar for every minute spent staring out my dirty window scribbling wandering poems about misplaced feelings and aborted love I’d be as rich as Madonna, but I never thought I’d be draining ink from my pen worrying about my mother.
    It’s weird when your mom’s trial and error starts to overshadow your own. The astronaut has shuttled her off to sin city with the intention of a final seduction. The man is in high gear, whipping out his finest polyester, working all the night moves. Mom is defenseless. She’s a suitcase looking for a vacation, and so she swims into the dark corners of DuPage County and surfaces with Captain Kirk, right-wing lover boy, used-car dealer, man of God. He’s a step back in her evolution. She’s sacrificing big-time. Mom needs to get out more, but I can’t be the cruise director fishing for a dreamboat. Her decision to get married has really put a snag in my tights. I knowI should be happy for her and feel all that “if she’s happy, then I’m happy” stuff, but it’s not working. I can’t find the light switch.
    My brother is about as helpful as Mr. Potato Head. He’ll spend the rest of his life baking in front of the boob tube, shrugging me off with enlightened arrogance, as if there were any accomplishment to swallowing pills that spin your eyeballs in circles. David’s locked into a superslack depression cycle. Like a giant vacuum cleaner, he