and left a rather lengthy message….
News to me. “Sorry, Daddy.
I didn’t check the machine.”
Really. And here I thought you’d
made it your mission….
What the hell does that mean?
Maybe he knows more than
he’s saying too. I apologize again.
“Sorry. I usually do, but I was
all excited about writing my term
paper.” No need to mention why.
His eyes say, yeah right, but his
lips say, Ahem. Okay, well, your
mother is coming home to watch
the election returns and expects
to host a large party here. It’s
a big deal, as you can imagine,
and you’ll have to help me pull it
together. We’ve only got a few days.
And with Manuela unavailable,
I’m not sure what to do.
A devious thought crosses my
mind. Do I dare? Oh, why not?
“Maybe Hannah from down
the street would help out.”
H-Hannah? he sputters, eyes filling
with uncertainty. Why Hannah?
How much do I know, Daddy? Not
as much as I’ve guessed, but enough.
But I don’t say that. Instead
I shrug. “She’s always seemed
pretty friendly, and she looks
like she knows how to party.”
He Has No Idea
What I mean, or what to say.
His jaw drops, spittle pooling
in the corners of his mouth.
His eyes blink like some annoying
spore has found its ocular target.
Tears puddle, reflect something
like rising denial. No worries,
Pop, I won’t tell, as long as
you be nice to me. (Pretty please be nice.)
One thing for sure, his reaction,
silent as it might be, makes me
know my instincts were right.
Somehow, some way, that hurts
more than it should. After all,
he’s not married to me. Still, why
not twist the knife a little deeper?
Kind of fun to make him squirm.
“Do you want me to talk to Hannah?
I don’t mind. Unless you’d rather
do it yourself?” I ask, all innocent
eyed. “I’ll help too, of course.”
Finally Daddy snaps out of
his trance. That’s okay. I’ll talk
to her. Good idea. She’ll be great.
He stands, hands on his hips, looking
a lot like Wyatt Earp, facing down
bad guys at the OK Corral.
Guess what that makes me.
Better holster my six-shooter.
I’ll break out the shotgun later.
School Totally Drags
Tricks and treats are put
on hold in favor of tests
and ineffectual lectures.
Teachers can be so heartless.
At lunch, I’m still deciding
who to get witchy with. I’m
wandering, foodless, when
I hear someone call my name.
Ms. Gardella? One minute!
Would you please honor
me with your presence?
Lawler, sounding all teacher.
So why does a little chill
shimmy all up and down
my spine? I’ll honor him
with more than my presence.
I turn toward his classroom,
extremely happy that I shaved
my legs and wore a very,
very short skirt today.
Lawler Definitely Notices
Not only that, but he doesn’t
hide the fact that he’s noticing.
His eyes fall to the source of my
swishing stockings, stay there until
he closes the door behind me.
How’s the paper coming?
Hope I was able to help.
I turn and he’s very close
behind me. In fact, we’re just
about nose to nose. I smile my
most vampish smile. “You’ve
helped me more than you know.”
His turn to smile, revealing
perfect white teeth. How so?
God, he smells good. I so
want to get lost in him. “You
treat me with respect. Not
many teachers do that for their
students. Power trips, I guess.”
You deserve my respect.
Not many students do.
I must be totally schizoid. As
much as I like having his respect,
I wonder what it would take to
earn his disrespect. My eyes tell
him that. My lips say, “Thank you.”
Welcome. So I was wondering
if you have plans for tonight.
Plans? Holy shit! Stay cool,
Raeanne. Leave the drool
where it belongs—inside your
mouth. But wait. Do I have
plans? Answer: “Not really.”
I realize it’s Halloween
and you might be busy….
“No!” Easy now. Don’t want
to look like you’re undateable
or something. “I mean I really
haven’t got anything definite
planned.” Breathe in. Breathe out.
I was hoping you might be able
to come over to my place and…
Yes, Yes, and…?
Okay, I know he doesn’t dare
say what I want him to, but
what he does say surprises me.
…answer my door for an hour
or so. I have an appointment
and don’t want to leave the house
empty with all the little tricksters
running around. I know it’s late
notice, an imposition, but you were
the first person who came to mind.
A deep breath brings several
positives to mind. One: I’ll
have my foot, quite literally,
in his door. Two: He probably
doesn’t have a girlfriend, unless
she happens to be his appointment.
Three: what might happen after
he gets back from his appointment.
Four: I was on his mind.
What can I do but agree?
He Gives Me Directions
To his house, which isn’t far
from mine. Need a ride?
A ride would be nice,
considering it is chilly
outside, but I don’t think
I should chance it. Oh yeah,
just think about explaining
that one to dear old Dad.
I shake my head. “Maybe
a ride home. What time
do you want me?” I am
queen of double entendre.
Lawler shows his dimples.
My haircut is at six.
Can you get there around
quarter to? I should only
be gone a little over an hour,
so you won’t be tied up all night.
Okay, vamp, ramp it up.
“How about half the night?”
The Rest of the Day
Crawls along even slower
than the first half did. Lawler
got my “tied up” joke and even
gifted me with an easygoing
laugh.
I’m pretty sure he’s got more
than an abbreviated house-sitting
job in mind. Wonder if he wants
what I do—to wrap ourselves up
in each other, make love until we
cry
with pleasure. Pa
in. Both. More.
But to go there, I need to catch
a buzz, which presents a problem.
It’s
one thing to ask Mick for bud,
then “reward” him after. But to
get my head, then ask him to drop
me at Lawler’s? He would not
appreciate that at
all.
Eek! Have I backed myself
into a corner? No Mick, no bud.
No Ty, no better buzz, and he’s
much more difficult to manipulate.
Dopeless sex? That could not feel
good.
Could it?
Kaeleigh
The Bus Seems Slower
Than usual today, and that’s
okay by me. Sitting here,
listening to everyone joke and
laugh
about being too old for trick-
or-treating but doing it anyway,
because hey, it’s free candy.
Okay, it’s lame, but not
as lame as going home to
cry
because Ian is going out of town
this weekend, at a family reunion.
No treats for me. Looks like
it’s
going to be tricks, starting
with Hannah, who’s knee-deep
in conversation with Daddy when
I finally get home. The topic
seems to be caterers, and it’s
all
I can do to be courteous as I pass.
I mean, if she sat any closer, she’d
be in Daddy’s lap. And it is Mom’s
kitchen. Even if Mom’s never in it.
One thing I know. Nothing
good
can come of this “friendship.”
But Daddy’s Attention
Is drawn to the petite blonde,
and so away from me. Yay.
I do have to go to work, but only
for a couple of hours, setting
up the codgers’ Halloween bash.
Did I just think “codgers”? Where
in hell did that word come
from? Some deep, dark, mean
recess of my brain? Some long-
forgotten conversation? Some
past-life dictionary? Sheesh. Just
think if I didn’t like those people!
Anyway, it will be easy enough
to get out the door, not that it isn’t
usually, but usually Daddy isn’t
even home yet. What’s so special
about today? Planning Mom’s
party? The simple chance to get
together with Hannah? Oops.
Answered my own question.
I Slip Off My Shoes
Slide down the hall in my stocking
feet, evoking a memory of Raeanne
and me when we were little, playing
champion ice-skaters. Wow. I don’t
go there often anymore. Most of my
childhood memories bloat with pain.
Laughter trickles from the kitchen,
the exact same way it used to,
except it is not Mom laughing with
Daddy. It’s her…what? Fill-in?
Replacement? Divorce would
probably be a better choice.
But considering the reputation
factor, divorce will never happen.
Ah. See? Happy memory dashed
against the rocks of reality. I can’t
deal with it in my normal way.
Daddy and Hannah have control
of the kitchen. No stuffing myself
until there’s no room left inside
for hurt. Aching from just behind
my eyes to the pit of my too-empty
belly, I go into my bedroom, sit
on the floor, pick open a scab or two.
I’m Kind of Liking
This blood
thing. Fetish?
Fixation? Not
quite an
obsession
yet, but I
can see it
growing
into that.
Drip. Drip.
Steady. Slow.
Drip-drip.
Quicker yet.
Drip-drip-drip.
Drip-drip-drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
I’d Probably Just
Let myself drip, but I did promise
to show up at work and help out
with the Halloween decorations.
I’m rummaging through the medicine
cabinet for a couple of Band-Aids
when the telephone rings.
Will you get that, please? calls
Daddy. If it’s for me, tell them
I’ll call back in a few minutes.
The nearest phone is in the hall.
I rush to reach it before the fifth
ring feeds it to the machine. “Hello?”
No response, but a sharp rustle
on the far end, like someone
has dropped a stack of papers.
I wait, but no voice follows,
so I repeat, “Hello? Is anyone
there?” Still no answer.
Bad connection? Prank call?
Either way, I’ve got to go. “Sorry.
I’m late for work. Try back later.”
Why Am I Always So Polite?
I mean, that was just so annoying.
No wonder Daddy
gets mad about these recent
hang-up calls.
Is that what this was? I’m not sure.
I was the one
who did the hanging up, after all.
Who was it? calls Daddy as I start
toward the door.
“Wrong number,” I answer. No
use letting Hannah
see his dark underside, is there?
Okay, maybe there
is, but I’ll save that card for later.
I pop my head through the kitchen
doorway. “Bye.
I’m going to work.” Hannah looks
up and gives a
small wave. Daddy does not
even turn. Don’t
stay out late. I’ll wait up for you.
His Words
Send ice chips pulsing
through my veins. No,
Daddy, don’t wait up,
unless you wait at Hannah’s.
And suddenly it comes
to me that not only is he
already home, but he has
not yet started drinking.
No Turkey stink; no
indistinct sentences;
no red-rimmed, tear-
choked eyes. Unreal.
I can’t remember the last
time I saw him
look so human. But
how long can it last?
My Hand Is Turning
The doorknob when the phone
rings again. I hesitate, know
I should ignore it. But somehow
I have to find out who’s on the other
end. Work will wait. “I’ve got it!”
Caller ID says only Private Name,
Private Number. It’s weird, but
my hand twitches as I reach
for the receiver. “Hello?”
Who is this?
Odd way to open a dialogue.
“Uh, this is Kaeleigh. Who’s
this?” A long stretch of silence
follows and I repeat, “Hello?”
Kaeleigh?
OMG. Is the woman dense?
But her voice, soft and scratchy
as an old vinyl record, tugs
at a place inside of me. “Yes,
it’s Kaeleigh. And you are…?”
Your grandmother.
Not Grandma Betty
Calling from Florida,
&nbs
p; no, she’s busy with her new
(relatively speaking—
I think he’s like eighty)
husband. Yech. Ugly
picture. Anyway, I know
her voice, and this isn’t it.
Instinctively, I lower my
own voice. “You mean my
father’s mother?” The one
who vanished so long ago?
The one who…who what?
That’s right. I know
it’s been a very long time…
“Kind of an understatement,
wouldn’t you say? Where
have you been?” Where did
you go? Why did you stay
away so long? “And why
are you calling now?”
It’s a difficult story, one
I need to tell you, but not
on the telephone. I’m…
A Shadow Falls
Through the doorway, darkens
the entire hall. Daddy. Who is it?
Can’t tell him! Into the phone,
“Hang on.” To Daddy, “It’s Shelby,
asking about tonight.”
Tonight? What about tonight?
Daddy’s eyes betray suspicion.
Think of something quick. “Uh, it
is Halloween. A few of the kids
are getting together….”
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