Sub-Zero Idling
The early rain had cleared and left puddles in the parking lot. I squinted against the sun that reflected off the wet asphalt. I’d finished my first semester at college, and to quote Macy, “What was done, was fuckin’ done.” Knots disappeared from my muscles, and my head had cleared. Now I’d wait. In a few weeks, my grades would turn up in the mail.
Bridget, Macy, and I helped pack Katie Lee’s belongings into Big Blue. “I’m really looking forward to the break. Spendin’ some quality time with Nash and seein’ all my friends back in The Bern.”
At the mention of Nash, Macy, Bridget, and I kept silent, each for our own reason.
I wished I felt the same about going home. Dad hadn’t mentioned Trudy on the last phone call. Figuring no news is good news, I assumed the two had ended their thing, but avoided asking. I considered dating a nonsafe topic and didn’t like delving over the line that he and I avoided.
“Promise you’ll call me if anything monumental happens,” I told Katie Lee. “And be sure to let Patsy and Mitch know that I wish them a fabulous holiday.”
Macy cooed at the mention of Mitch.
“Come on,” I said. “It’s Christmas, the season of care and joy.”
Katie Lee put the key in Big Blue. “I bet Mitch would prefer your gift of goodwill in person.”
Bridget saved me from additional verbal abuse. “Should be interesting to see who I room with next semester.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She shrugged. “My roommate isn’t coming back to Grogan.”
“What’s up with that?” asked Macy.
“She’s moving off-campus with some friends.”
“That sucks,” Katie Lee said.
“I just hate the thought of adjusting to a stranger. If anyone’s interested, I have space available.”
“I like my privacy,” Macy said.
“Rach and I are staying put. Ask around and see if anyone is interested.”
Bridget rolled a rock around under her shoe. “If none of y’all want to switch, the best I can hope for is that I don’t get assigned a roommate.”
“I’m sure it’ll work out,” I said, not caring if it did.
“But look at Mama,” Bridget said. “What if I get a roommate like her?”
I’d seen Macy and Francine in the take down and wasn’t overly sure who clinched that battle.
Clicking her red nails, Macy said, “If that happens, you’d have to kill her.”
Katie Lee and I laughed while Bridget stared, not finding humor in the sarcasm.
Big Blue’s engine turned over, and Katie Lee said, “Merry Christmas, y’all.”
JUST AFTER CHRISTMAS, KATIE LEE phoned my house. “I’m havin’ a fabulous break. Lots of parties, and I’ve been out on the boat a few times.”
From under my electric blanket in Canton, I said, “I’m jealous.”
“Guess who was askin’ about you.”
“I don’t know.”
“Billy Ray. Wanted to know your home phone number.”
“Please tell me you didn’t give it to him.”
Katie Lee laughed. “Don’t worry, I made up an excuse.”
I closed my eyes in relief.
“I broke the news to my parents about the anniversary wine.”
“Are you grounded forever?”
“Nah, they were cool. Didn’t make too big a deal of it.”
“You never cease to amaze me. What else is going on in The Bern?”
“Nash and I are spendin’ a lot of romantic time together.”
Romantic time with you and how many others? The thought made me want to yak. “Make sure you take precautions. You don’t need a love child.”
“Don’t worry, we’re careful.”
“How are the McCoys?” I asked.
“Daddy reminded Patsy and me that we’ll be muckin’ barnacles off fiberglass when I get home from spring semester. I’d hoped he’d forgotten about that.”
She didn’t mention Mitch. Not wanting to seem overly interested, I didn’t ask. When I hung up, I noticed that Dad had left a package in my doorway. A pint of Kentucky bourbon arrived from Travis. The note read, “Thought you could use something to survive the Canton winter.”
Travis and I had spoken a few times since Halloween and become kindred hearts. I wished for more. If he ever became disgruntled with his current sexual preference, I’d enthusiastically volunteer myself to bring him back to team female. For now, we were buddies.
A postcard with an I love NY tattooed on a voluptuous ass arrived a few days into the New Year. Luckily Dad was at his shop and I’d brought the mail in.
Happy New Year!
Hanging out with the old crowd in Queens.
Rang in ’87 with a ball drop (the one in Times Square).
Vaguely recall the night. Will share what I remember.
See you in a fucking few.
-M-
OVER BREAK I PRAYED FOR divine intervention. Anything would do: a lightning bolt that erased Trudy’s memory of Dad, a torn gluteus maximus to keep her in her apartment. I was open to options, but nothing extraordinary happened. The novelty of Trudy lasted the entire break. In addition to her, Dad found a new obsession. Locks. He rekeyed the house and the shop. Each night I heard him turn the dead bolts on the front door and slide the chain. Then he moved to the back door. I wondered if he found it therapeutic. I guessed he worried that Mom would just show up and let herself in. His worst fear was my wish.
Scumbling and glazing the Francois Quesnel portrait kept me busy. I spent more time with my father than I ever remember, and during the day the meticulous detailing kept my mind from overly obsessing about Mom, Dad’s annoying girlfriend, and the North Carolina crew. In the evening, when I snuck in my room to sip bourbon and smoke ciggies, I pondered all of them.
The night before I was due to leave, Mom called. She and Dad didn’t say much. I wondered if they’d spoken before about what she was doing, if she needed money, and when she was coming back, but Dad hadn’t shared anything with me. Mom asked me about my first semester, and I gave standard answers to her standard questions.
After I hung up, I found myself staring at the clothes that still hung in her wardrobe. Dad didn’t know what to do with her things, and neither did I. As much as she hurt us, it didn’t seem right to throw them away or give her stuff to charity. Not yet. Gripping a handful of fabric, I pulled it to my face and drank in the only touchable thing left of the mother who raised me. Standing in her closet, I realized even though I considered my dad overly neurotic and annoying, he loved me. I could easily read his emotions; they weren’t hidden or complicated. Sometimes you don’t realize what you have until it’s gone. I wasn’t ever going to let go of him.
NOTE TO SELF
Working in Dad’s shop took off the monotonous edge of being at home and will fatten my wallet.
Trudy is like a rash—infectiously annoying.
I made zero progress with Clay. Not sure if I’ll get another chance next semester.