“Where did you get that bracelet?” my mom asked me Monday morning. I’d been wearing it since I got it, but this was the first she’d noticed. Since she didn’t have to go in to work until noon, she’d started working on a new boat. Mom spread the pieces out all over the kitchen table. The room had a sharp chemical smell from the glue. The boat was called the Cutty Sark and she was building it in an old vodka bottle. She wanted to build it in a bottle of Cutty Sark scotch, but she figured the label would hide the boat, so what would be the point. I wasn’t allowed to come into the kitchen when she worked on her stupid ships. She was afraid I’d walk too hard and vibrate the table and ruin it. I’d done this once when I was six, so ever since then she made me stand in the doorway to talk to her when she was working on one.
“Dani let me borrow it,” I said. “For the first day of school.” I waited for my chance to sneak some breakfast out for Logan. Mom had gotten out of bed early and was already working on the boat when I woke up. I made sure and brushed my teeth before I went back and saw him. I gave him my copy of Harriet the Spy and kissed him good morning. His stomach growled twice. Mom turned my attempt to get Logan breakfast into an obstacle course.
“Are you going over to see her today? To pick out your first-day-of-school outfits?” my mom asked.
“Who? Dani?” I said, as if we could be talking about anyone else. My mind was still back behind the closet. “No, she’s grounded.”
“What for?” she asked in her fake casual way, picking up a strip of balsa wood with a long, thin pair of tweezers. She dabbed the tiniest bit of glue on it and slipped it in through the neck of the bottle. She wore special magnifying glasses she’d bought at Wal-Mart, so she could see the details better. They made her look like a properly medicated mad scientist. But I noticed her hands weren’t all too steady. She kept reaching in to place the little stick of wood and then stopping and pulling it out again.
“She got in an argument with her mother about something.”
“That girl does have a mouth on her.”
The house phone rang and we both stopped talking and stared at it like it might jump off the hook and bite us. I looked over and raised my eyebrows at her, but she shook her head and mouthed the word, Wait, as if the person calling could hear us even without the phone being picked up. The answering machine clicked on and my mom’s voice informed whoever it was that we weren’t home. It was Dr. Drose. Mom asked me to pick it up and went back to work on the Cutty Sark. She must of made a mistake with the piece she was placing because she cursed softly and pounded her thigh with a fist. I’d never seen her do that before. Then she took her tweezers and poked herself on the palm three times.
“Hi, sweetie,” Dr. Drose said when I answered. “Is your mother home?”
Mom came out of the kitchen after she tried gluing the piece of balsa wood for a third or fourth time and still couldn’t get it right. She snatched the phone out of my hand like I’d stolen it from her. “Of course,” she said and nodded with a lot of energy. “I don’t mind at all.” And then after a moment or so, “Believe me, I could use it. Alright then, I’ll see you.” She smiled after she hung up. “That’s a nice surprise.”
“What?” I said. I smiled too. The secret of my closet boy hummed sweetly in my chest.
“Someone made a scheduling mistake and they don’t need me for the next couple of days. I get a little vacation.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Why do you look so glum? Am I interfering with some plan of yours?”
“No,” I said.
“Yeah, right,” she said, examining my face like it was a restaurant check from a careless waitress. “What new scheme are you up to today, Lynn Marie?”
The phone rang again and my mother picked it up without thinking. She must of been distracted. Her voice changed completely when the person on the other end of the line said hello. “When? Are you sure it’s not a clerical mistake?” she said, after listening for a little while. It was a man’s voice. That much I could hear. I knew without her saying it wasn’t a call from Dr. Drose. “Have you ever noticed it’s always Carla who makes these little discoveries?”
I went into the living room and sat down, so my mother wouldn’t think I was trying to listen in. The only thing separating the kitchen from the living room was a Formica-topped breakfast bar and three padded barstools. My mom turned and faced the window over the sink, but I could still hear what she said.
“How do you know this?” She shook a cigarette out of her pack and lit it. “That’s ridiculous. He’s a complete idiot anyway. That’s why his own kid checks the med inventory after he does it.” After three or four drags, she stubbed it out. “Goddamnit,” she said, still grinding the cigarette into her coffee saucer even though it was completely out. I hated when she put out cigarettes on dishes. It seemed trashy and I was the one who always had to clean it up. “Just call me when you know for sure, okay? Right. And tell her not to butt into other people’s wards. In fact, tell her not to touch anything until I get there. Good-bye.” She put the phone back in its cradle and lit another cigarette. Smoke curled out of her nose. She glared at the ship for a long moment and then walked back and sat down at the table.
“Was that Dr. Drose again?” I knew it wasn’t. She’d never say Goddamnit to Dr. Drose.
“No,” she said.
“Who was it?”
“It sure as hell wasn’t Ed McMahon.” This was an old joke of hers and it always irritated me when she said it. It was so stupid it was aggravating. This time she didn’t even try to use her jokey voice. It came out flat and mean.
I slipped in and grabbed a Coke and a half-eaten bag of Wise potato chips before she could start working on her boat again, making sure to walk across the linoleum very softly. This was not a good time for a big blowup.
“I’m going to go read,” I said.
“Fine.” Mom picked up one of her tools and bent it against her chin a second before letting it pop back into shape. Then she shut her eyes and did it again. She was still doing this when I went back to my room. But before I even opened the closet, the kitchen door creaked and slammed.