loneliness threatened to suck the heart right out of me.
Tru didn’t want to miss the fireworks show at Rubin's. Tiny offered to let him climb up on the roof to watch the skies, which were by now getting blacker and crowded with a spectacular view of the Milky Way. They found a spot that seemed sturdy, and Tru held the ladder first for his uncle and then scrambled up. I wondered how Tiny would manage to get down, but he said he climbed up there all the time. Aunt Lutie gave me a good-night kiss and a pat, before she went tobed. I lay down in the living room, my spine sagging along with the old sofa, trying not to cry until everyone was out of sight.
It's always easy to navel gaze when nothing is going right and you’re looking up at a tacky low ceiling. You can get trapped into feeling that this is the way things will always be, that the planets will always be in some horrible aspect, and that you will always get dumped on by whatever deity you were raised to fear.
With Jim the pig snuffling by my side, and the picture of Jesus avoiding my gaze, I might have sunk into this quagmire myself. I had plenty to feel sorry about, didn’t I? My father had gone and died before I could meet him. My husband had dumped me. I was being sued. My daughter was taking up with a wannabe rock singer. And the plumbing was bad.
A tear leaked out. I tried to will it back to where I keep them hidden, but it wouldn’t budge. It just rolled down my cheek. I even tried to distract myself with visions of my father, rubbing my mother's shoulders gently, whispering that he understood. That made it worse. Before I could stop I was sobbing in ragged gasps, and Jim was looking at me with piggy eyes, straining to understand. Perhaps he did, since he’d lost something himself.
I was up searching for a Kleenex when Jim ambled over to the door. He sniffed at the air, and then I knew why. I recognized Nova's voice as the door opened.
Rubin had brought her home as promised, but my daughter reeked of alcohol. Nova blurted, “I’m sick,” held her hand across her mouth, and ran for the bathroom.
For a moment I stood there. I had to decide whether to punch Rubin for allowing this to happen or follow my daughter. I ran after Nova and found the bathroom door locked. I pleaded with her to let me in.
“You all right?” I whispered through the door, sure that her retching would wake everyone in the house.
“Go away,” she moaned in between heaves. I stood outside the door awhile longer and asked her again if she needed anything, the same way I’d done when she had stomach flu as a little girl. I wanted to hold her head and wipe away her tears, but the door stayed locked.
After a few minutes, Nova emerged, brushed by me, and disappeared into the bedroom.
It was senseless to talk; I remembered that from my days with Benjamin and his binges. Best to wait until morning. Nova had never come home drunk before, although she had done plenty of other things to infuriate her parents. This was a first, and I intended to hold Rubin Jonto responsible.
I followed Nova into the room, where she had flopped over the bed sideways, and grabbed my pillow and a lavender crocheted throw. I would have to camp on the sofa all night now, as if I was going to get any sleep with my teeth clenched that way. My daughter and Dr. Jonto would get an earful in the morning. I fumed all the way back to the living room.
“Is she okay?” Rubin was still there, standing in the shadows.
I jumped, gasping like a kid in a haunted house. “I thought you’d gone,” I said, clutching the pillow to my chest. Jim had satisfied himself that Rubin wasn’t an intruder and had gone back to his spot next to the TV. I wasn’t that sure.
Rubin's brows bunched up, and he wouldn’t look directly at me. “Sorry about all this,” he said. He added a loud sigh. “Everything was fine. Next thing I knew, those kids had all disappeared. I promised I’d watch out for her, and, well, like I
Tru didn’t want to miss the fireworks show at Rubin's. Tiny offered to let him climb up on the roof to watch the skies, which were by now getting blacker and crowded with a spectacular view of the Milky Way. They found a spot that seemed sturdy, and Tru held the ladder first for his uncle and then scrambled up. I wondered how Tiny would manage to get down, but he said he climbed up there all the time. Aunt Lutie gave me a good-night kiss and a pat, before she went tobed. I lay down in the living room, my spine sagging along with the old sofa, trying not to cry until everyone was out of sight.
It's always easy to navel gaze when nothing is going right and you’re looking up at a tacky low ceiling. You can get trapped into feeling that this is the way things will always be, that the planets will always be in some horrible aspect, and that you will always get dumped on by whatever deity you were raised to fear.
With Jim the pig snuffling by my side, and the picture of Jesus avoiding my gaze, I might have sunk into this quagmire myself. I had plenty to feel sorry about, didn’t I? My father had gone and died before I could meet him. My husband had dumped me. I was being sued. My daughter was taking up with a wannabe rock singer. And the plumbing was bad.
A tear leaked out. I tried to will it back to where I keep them hidden, but it wouldn’t budge. It just rolled down my cheek. I even tried to distract myself with visions of my father, rubbing my mother's shoulders gently, whispering that he understood. That made it worse. Before I could stop I was sobbing in ragged gasps, and Jim was looking at me with piggy eyes, straining to understand. Perhaps he did, since he’d lost something himself.
I was up searching for a Kleenex when Jim ambled over to the door. He sniffed at the air, and then I knew why. I recognized Nova's voice as the door opened.
Rubin had brought her home as promised, but my daughter reeked of alcohol. Nova blurted, “I’m sick,” held her hand across her mouth, and ran for the bathroom.
For a moment I stood there. I had to decide whether to punch Rubin for allowing this to happen or follow my daughter. I ran after Nova and found the bathroom door locked. I pleaded with her to let me in.
“You all right?” I whispered through the door, sure that her retching would wake everyone in the house.
“Go away,” she moaned in between heaves. I stood outside the door awhile longer and asked her again if she needed anything, the same way I’d done when she had stomach flu as a little girl. I wanted to hold her head and wipe away her tears, but the door stayed locked.
After a few minutes, Nova emerged, brushed by me, and disappeared into the bedroom.
It was senseless to talk; I remembered that from my days with Benjamin and his binges. Best to wait until morning. Nova had never come home drunk before, although she had done plenty of other things to infuriate her parents. This was a first, and I intended to hold Rubin Jonto responsible.
I followed Nova into the room, where she had flopped over the bed sideways, and grabbed my pillow and a lavender crocheted throw. I would have to camp on the sofa all night now, as if I was going to get any sleep with my teeth clenched that way. My daughter and Dr. Jonto would get an earful in the morning. I fumed all the way back to the living room.
“Is she okay?” Rubin was still there, standing in the shadows.
I jumped, gasping like a kid in a haunted house. “I thought you’d gone,” I said, clutching the pillow to my chest. Jim had satisfied himself that Rubin wasn’t an intruder and had gone back to his spot next to the TV. I wasn’t that sure.
Rubin's brows bunched up, and he wouldn’t look directly at me. “Sorry about all this,” he said. He added a loud sigh. “Everything was fine. Next thing I knew, those kids had all disappeared. I promised I’d watch out for her, and, well, like I
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