year, perfect perm. This year, mystery mess.
“I can’t believe they got it out this fast!”
Zora looked at me for a minute and took a swallow of her drink. “You still don’t get it, Mafeenie. It’s different now. It’s fast and it’s vicious and it never stops!”
“Welcome to the world,” I said, wishing she wasn’t already high. Talking to a drunk is counterproductive. Afterward they never remember what you said.
“All right, Mafeenie,” she said. “I think now’s a good time to show you my room.” She nodded at the tabloid on the counter. “Bring that, will you?”
I followed her up the stairs, wondering what I would find behind that closed door. It had taken all my strength not to open it this afternoon, just enough to take a peek inside, but I couldn’t have lived with myself after that kind of betrayal of trust. Sure, I was worried about Zora’s state of mind, and sure, I was a believer in grandmother privilege, but not enough to risk alienating her forever.
When we got to the door of her room, I thought she might pause for some kind of warning like
don’t touch anything,
or
it doesn’t bite,
but she walked right in like she had nothing to hide. The room was a little smaller than mine, and it didn’t have a view of the pool, but from what I could see, there were no snakes under the neatly made bed at all, just two packing boxes and a pair of fluffy pink slippers. On the nightstand was a photograph of me, one of her and Jasmine on the back deck of the motel, one of her father in costume for his one and only Broadway show, and one of her with Howard in front of the theater in Amsterdam. She set her glass on the dresser and leaned down to pull out the boxes. Curious, I stood there holding the rolled-up copy of today’s
Dig It!
and awaiting further instructions.
“Pick one,” she said.
“What are they?”
“Just pick one. Any one. Any one at all.”
She slurred that just enough to make me cringe so I reached down and pulled out the first thing my fingers touched. It was another copy of
Dig It!
The front cover was split in half, they seemed to like that effect, with a picture of Zora on one side and on the other side, a picture of the murdered vet. He was wearing an army uniform and holding a huge automatic weapon in one hand and what looked like a joint in the other. The headline said:
Doomed vet well known as battlefield doper!
The date at the top was last summer.
Zora was watching me, but she offered no explanation.
“Are they all
Dig It!
’s?”
“It comes out every day,” she said. “You’d be surprised how fast they accumulate.”
She plucked the back issue and the new one from my hands and knelt to quickly tuck them into place.
“The new one goes in at the back of the section,” she said. “The old one resumes its position between
Mystery coed’s ties to dead gangster target of police probe
and
Dead vet’s shocking secret life lead to coed ultimatum.
”
She was right about one thing. The sheer volume of the coverage was a sickening surprise to me. No wonder she was overwhelmed. She stood up again, reached for her drink, and took a big swallow. When she looked back at me, her lips were set in a tight line. Turns out Zora had snakes under her bed after all.
“Why are you keeping this stuff?” I said. “Aren’t you the one who called it a bunch of trash?”
“It’s history,” she said. “Maybe I’ll show them to my kids one day.”
“Why would you do that?”
She shrugged her thin shoulders. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe to show them that life is more complicated than they think it is.”
I resisted the impulse to tell her life is always more complicated than you think it is. I also resisted a strong impulse to kick the box over. “Why do you care what these idiots say?”
“Because people believe what they read whether it’s true or not.”
“What difference does it make? People who know you don’t think it’s true.”
“Which would be fine
“I can’t believe they got it out this fast!”
Zora looked at me for a minute and took a swallow of her drink. “You still don’t get it, Mafeenie. It’s different now. It’s fast and it’s vicious and it never stops!”
“Welcome to the world,” I said, wishing she wasn’t already high. Talking to a drunk is counterproductive. Afterward they never remember what you said.
“All right, Mafeenie,” she said. “I think now’s a good time to show you my room.” She nodded at the tabloid on the counter. “Bring that, will you?”
I followed her up the stairs, wondering what I would find behind that closed door. It had taken all my strength not to open it this afternoon, just enough to take a peek inside, but I couldn’t have lived with myself after that kind of betrayal of trust. Sure, I was worried about Zora’s state of mind, and sure, I was a believer in grandmother privilege, but not enough to risk alienating her forever.
When we got to the door of her room, I thought she might pause for some kind of warning like
don’t touch anything,
or
it doesn’t bite,
but she walked right in like she had nothing to hide. The room was a little smaller than mine, and it didn’t have a view of the pool, but from what I could see, there were no snakes under the neatly made bed at all, just two packing boxes and a pair of fluffy pink slippers. On the nightstand was a photograph of me, one of her and Jasmine on the back deck of the motel, one of her father in costume for his one and only Broadway show, and one of her with Howard in front of the theater in Amsterdam. She set her glass on the dresser and leaned down to pull out the boxes. Curious, I stood there holding the rolled-up copy of today’s
Dig It!
and awaiting further instructions.
“Pick one,” she said.
“What are they?”
“Just pick one. Any one. Any one at all.”
She slurred that just enough to make me cringe so I reached down and pulled out the first thing my fingers touched. It was another copy of
Dig It!
The front cover was split in half, they seemed to like that effect, with a picture of Zora on one side and on the other side, a picture of the murdered vet. He was wearing an army uniform and holding a huge automatic weapon in one hand and what looked like a joint in the other. The headline said:
Doomed vet well known as battlefield doper!
The date at the top was last summer.
Zora was watching me, but she offered no explanation.
“Are they all
Dig It!
’s?”
“It comes out every day,” she said. “You’d be surprised how fast they accumulate.”
She plucked the back issue and the new one from my hands and knelt to quickly tuck them into place.
“The new one goes in at the back of the section,” she said. “The old one resumes its position between
Mystery coed’s ties to dead gangster target of police probe
and
Dead vet’s shocking secret life lead to coed ultimatum.
”
She was right about one thing. The sheer volume of the coverage was a sickening surprise to me. No wonder she was overwhelmed. She stood up again, reached for her drink, and took a big swallow. When she looked back at me, her lips were set in a tight line. Turns out Zora had snakes under her bed after all.
“Why are you keeping this stuff?” I said. “Aren’t you the one who called it a bunch of trash?”
“It’s history,” she said. “Maybe I’ll show them to my kids one day.”
“Why would you do that?”
She shrugged her thin shoulders. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe to show them that life is more complicated than they think it is.”
I resisted the impulse to tell her life is always more complicated than you think it is. I also resisted a strong impulse to kick the box over. “Why do you care what these idiots say?”
“Because people believe what they read whether it’s true or not.”
“What difference does it make? People who know you don’t think it’s true.”
“Which would be fine
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