I can’t catch my breath, don’t know if I’m stuck on the inhale or exhale.
I draw a line down the centre of the page. Mason calls it listing. It’s always annoyed the hell out of him. “There’s Libby listing again. Pull up and just sail on, forgodsake.”
The alternative is listless. Then where would I be? Where would we be?
Column one:
1.Justin was suspended for selling oregano in little baggies.
2.Ashley got a tattoo, ‘Daddy’s Girl’, on her right shoulder.
3. Mason is having an affair.
Column two:
1. Twenty-two years of tip money saved.
2. Eldest child likes me.
3. Teachers needed at Jenna’s school.
I put down my pencil, place my ear on the floor vent and listen. Mason says, “Don’t ever tell your mother I signed for that.”
Ashley says, “As if.”
As if I didn’t already know who gave Ashley consent to etch eternal devotion to her father on her flesh.
Justin asks, “Will you come to my soccer tourney?”
“You’re supposed to be grounded.”
“Mom won’t know. She’s not going.”
Ashley says, “Lucky you. She’s so Walmart.”
Justin sings, “Da-da-da-dollarama-ma-ma-ma-ma.”
“Smarten up. Your mother does everything for you kids.”
Ashley says, “Well, she doesn’t do it for you, does she.”
Snort, snort, snort, through their noses. Mason says, “Knock it off,” but he’s laughing too.
4. Mrs. Dupuis has a 1987 VW camper for sale, low mileage, mint condition.
I use the good china and load the table with food. They surface to the aroma. Mason asks, “Roast beef? What’s the occasion?”
“Independence Day in Guatemala.”
Justin says, “Where’s the piñata?”
“Same place I am every night.”
“Huh?”
I pass the gravy. “How’d the community service go today?”
“Um… ah… great.”
Ashley says, “Yeah, shooting a two under par beats school any day.”
I snatch the potatoes out from under Justin’s fork. “What?”
“Ah… Dad took me golfing. You know, fresh air, exercise, bonding…”
Mason says, “He’s learned his lesson, eh, Justin. Besides, Libs, it was oregano not marijuana.”
5. Average winter temperature in Guatemala is 26 Celsius.
I take the sex, driving Mason a little crazy with lips lingering on his inner thigh as I fanaticize about Mr. Palmer, the science teacher at Jenna’s school.
Mason sleeps. I absorb his satisfied face, suspecting I will always love its familiar lines, will always miss it on the pillow beside me.
Five AM, I shower and button up my blouse.
“Where’re you going?”
“Work.”
“We need to talk.”
“Joe is shorthanded.”
“Fuck, Libby. Why waitressing? You have a master’s degree, for Christ’s sake. That job is nothing but an embarrassment.”
“Why?”
“It’s— so… Walmart.”
“How is that bad?”
“Walmart people are stuck in pathetic lives.”
I turn to him, catching sight of my face in the mirror. My hair is too long for my forty-seven years. My eyes, red-rimmed like the days when there was smoking at the restaurant. “Maybe I should quit. Do something that matters with my life.” I tuck on the bed. “I’ll call in sick. We could go golfing.”
“Uh… can’t. I have a business thing.”
“What you have is a busy thing.”
“Jesus, please, let it go. I never meant… it just happened.”
“Have you let it go?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Does she write lists?”
“No, she’s… stunningly unpredictable.”
7. Mason is an enormous fart.
I review my list while the hairdresser lifts my salted ponytail. “Well, girl?”
“Make it short, sassy and… auburn.”
I buy jeans, sunshine coloured T-shirts, a Kindle loaded with undiscovered books and a lime green VW camper, stock it for travel and leave it in the Walmart parking lot.
I close my account and convert two decades of tips to US dollars, pesos and travellers cheques. The teller says, “Must be some trip. Where’re you going?”
“The great unknown.”
“That like a theme park?”
“Nothing like.”
Justin scarfs down a bagel. “Cheque for ski club’s due today.”
I write it out, keeping hold with my fingers. “If you could have this or me, which would you choose?”
He snatches it. “Later.”
“Where are my freakin’ jeans?” Ashley rages from the laundry room. “Is a load of laundry too fucking much to ask around here?”
Mason sighs, searching the light reflected in his coffee. “She senses the tension between us.” I relax onto the stool. “I am so sorry, Libs.” I picture the other woman, stunningly played by Penelope Cruz, unpredictably smashing dishes in my kitchen and decide to take my red flowered mug and the chest of herbal teas. “I’ll be home early so we can talk.” He kisses the top of my head.
I watch him down the walkway, my shadow-self clinging to his heels. Shaking off the ache, I move through the house looking for something I want. My Grandma’s quilt is all.
Mason pulls back into the drive just as I’m getting into the Suburban. He leans out the window of his car. “Where’re you off to?”
“To quit my job.”
“Good girl. Can we go out for dinner, just the two of us?”
“Maybe.”
“I don’t want to lose you.” He backs out. “I’ll be home by six. Promise.”
I sit in the hall, half saying goodbye to the dog, half holding on. “If I go, I’ll miss you most of all, Scutter.”
My purse vibrates and I dig out the cell. “Um… honey, it’s me. Something’s come up, at work and it’s going to run late. Tomorrow okay? Libs?”
“Do you like my hair?”
“Pardon?”
“My hair.”
“Sure, I love your long hair.”
“Bye.”
Scutter scrambles around my legs and jumps into the car. “You want to see Jenna too, boy? You’ll have to keep low at the borders.” I retrieve his vaccination record, dust the hall table with my hand and put Justin’s running shoes in the closet on my way back out.
At the Egyptian Café in Indianapolis I check for emails. There are frantic ones from Mason. I read Jenna’s. Dad called, totally panicked. The police found your car at Walmart with your keys and cellphone inside. Don’t reply if you get this. Let me imagine you heading south, claiming your one wild and glorious life, believing one day soon I’ll hear your knock on my door. xo, Jenna
Safely across the Mexican border I pay the weekly rate at the Pretty Sunset Trailer Park. I have a palm tree, an electric hook up and an ocean view. Fellow travellers, with RV’s the size of Texas, come bearing gifts of paella and fruit. An American in khaki shorts and Birkenstocks says, “Welcome, pretty lady. I’ve tipped our guard a fiver. You’re as safe now as celery in a fat lady’s fridge. There’s a barbeque and bonfire tonight. You come, now.”
I open the back gate and prop pillows on the bed. The moon divides the ocean with a ribbon of light. A sailboat listing starboard crosses its path.
Column One:
Column Two:
1. Marty and Rose are cooking dinner.
2. An undiscovered book.
3. Wildberry tea in a red mug.
4. Scutter’s generous fur beneath my hand
5. Jenna (and Mr. Palmer) can’t wait to see me.
6…..
I fall asleep to the unfamiliar sound of my own breathing.
Winner of WCDR Short Story Contest
Published in Wild Words Anthology, 2010
I love that line…safe as celery in a fat lady’s fridge!
I can attest to the truth of that statement.