“What do I tell Mom and Dad if they ask? I’m sure they know you’re out here.”
“Look, you say nothing at all, nothing. I’ll deal with it later.”
His hands tightly grip the steering wheel. He looks at Cindy and smiles. “You’ll be ok. Now get outta here.”
Cindy steps out of the car and walks slowly up the brick walkway. Steven revs up the engine, spins the differential, and drives away. Cindy turns around and sadly watches her big brother drive off.
“Bye,” Cindy solemnly says.
Cindy opens the front door. Her mother, Linda, is waiting impatiently in the living room. Linda is 48 years old with sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and 5’6", and 135 pounds. She has always dressed in modern fashion and is in good physical shape. She does volunteer work after the house is in order. It’s usually at a school for Autistic Children. Linda has suffered chronic migraines since her husband Frank became Vice President of Newport Beach Commodity Exchange. She hides her frustrations by shopping and being overly obsessed with the house and her three children. Frank is having an affair with a woman at his work. She knows about it and drowns her sorrow with vodka and Vicodin.
Cindy walks through the front door and looks at the decorative cobwebs in the foyer. The house smells of cereal box recipes, stuffed bell peppers and cabbage. Linda overcompensates with the oven during all holidays.
“Mom, what’s with the crap?”
“Where have you been, young lady? I’ve been worried sick.”
“Mom, hello, the afterschool rehearsal. Halloween, it’s four days away.”
“Your father put this, wait one second, why didn’t you return my page?”
Linda gathers her thoughts, keeping herself stern and quickly. This helps avoid punishment. Cindy is the manipulative one of the family.
“Mom, the damn thing goes off constantly. If you already know where I am, what’s the problem? I don’t get it. Buzz, buzz, buzzing. Drives me crazy.”
“Well, your father insisted, and you know the rules.”
Cindy tries changing the subject again. Mom’s a bit ornery tonight thinks Cindy. Maybe she hasn’t had her refill yet. She notices a bottle of wine on the living room coffee table. Cindy looks over the abundant display of Halloween decorations.
“Nice, Mom. Shouldn’t it be outside though?”
“I don’t know. I think it looks kinds of cool.” Linda admires her work. During Christmas, forget about it, she and grandma are up day and night decorating and baking.
“Actually, I don’t like it. I hate the darn thing.” Says Linda. I hate everything I did." Linda starts to panic. Eyes watering.
“Mom, stop. It’s just Halloween.”
Cindy walks through the foyer area and heads to the large closet door facing the entry. Her mother babbles on about her day, and Cindy pretends to pay attention. A wood sign hangs above the coat closet. It reads: ‘Welcome to the House of Perpetual Commotion.’ Cindy walks to the kitchen and grabs a Halloween cookie
“Are you listening, young lady?”
“Oh yeah, Mom, that’s great.” Her mouth filled with the cookie,
Linda follows Cindy into the family room, dining and kitchen area. Cindy sits down at the dining table next to the kitchen. She watches as Linda quickly opens the oven. She takes out banana bread, then slams the kitchen cupboards. She does not remove anything from the cabinets. She opens and closes one after another. Cindy plops her books down on the dining table and begins rubbing the temple on her head.
“Take those off the table,” says Linda.
Cindy shakes her head and removes them off the table. Linda walks over to Cindy still babbling on about nothing, as Linda hands her a Halloween cookie. Her day was crap enough already. Between school, the play, and that asshole Timmy, she wants to scream. Now Linda is having on of her super mom episodes. My god, what I need is ‘Exile on Mainstreet.’ She again tries changing the subject. Admitting she is wrong improves her relationship with Mom.
“Mom, I’m sorry, I should have called. It won’t happen again.” Cindy tastes the cookie and comments, “Mom, these are good. Can I have another?”
“After dinner, young lady. So, how’s school and the play? Where is Steven? Have you seen him?” Linda has exacerbated herself. “I’m glad you realize it’s wrong not calling me.”
“The play is shit. School sucks, and no,” Cindy says smiling with cookie in her mouth.
Linda turns off the sink water, grabs a towel, and looks at Cindy and grins.
“Watch your mouth, young lady.” Cool, I got away with it, Cindy thinks.
As Cindy sneaks another fresh-baked cookie from the plate on the dining table, Linda carries on about school, and her social life. Steven, and everything of no interest. Cindy flushes out the noises coming from her mom, then walks to the family room. Cindy grabs the remote then turns on the television.
"Cool, it’s ‘Married with Children.’ Cindy likes that television program. That and ‘The Simpson’s.’ She also likes ‘Benny Hill,’ but mother disapproves.
Her mom’s still carrying on, while Cindy sits back and finally relaxes. When her father isn’t home, she sits in his chair. She fantasizes that she’s queen of the castle. The two women in the kitchen are her wenches. They do whatever she tells them to. Top of the line leather La-Z-Boy chair. Ahhhhh, classic, Cindy thinks. Cindy looks at the table set side of the chair and admires her father’s whisky glass. She of course admires her father and looks up to him. She is just afraid, is all. Cindy picks up the glass and pretends she is him.
Frank, Cindy’s father, slowly walks through the front door without a sound. Frank walks through the living room and towards the dining room. To the left is the kitchen. He peeks through the kitchen doorway and sees Linda. Linda is bent overlooking in the bottom floor kitchen cabinets for cleaning supplies. Frank is fifty years old, dark haired with gray highlights. He’s six feet tall, well built, attractive, and stylish. Unfortunately, many women throughout South Orange County think so also.
Frank walks up behind Linda slowly. He places his hands around her buttock and squeezes. Linda jumps up and screams.
“Damn it, Frank, I’ve told you a thousand times not to scare me like this. You’re going to give me a friggin’ heart attack! Me and grandma.”
“Speaking of scary, where is the old bat?” Asks Frank.
“In her room, knitting.” Says Linda.
“Thank God.” Linda looks at Frank with a discerning smile.
“Hey, nothing wrong with getting in the Halloween spirit,” says Frank.
“Hey, squirt, what’s up?” Frank looks over at Cindy.
“Hey, Dad.” Cindy remains fixated on the television.
“And how are you, honey?” Frank places his mouth on Lind’s neck. Linda pushes him away.
“Frank, not now.”
“What’s wrong with everyone? Why so uptight? Relax, it’s Friday, and commission day. Dear old Dad got a fat one this time.”
“Frank, you smell like booze again. And you’re slurring,” says Linda.
Franks pulls away from Linda, then takes a check from his designer coat. He gives the check over to Linda.
“I closed the Rosenthal deal. And you said they wouldn’t go for it. Well, they did. And I need a drink.” Frank loosens his tie and walks towards his wet bar. He pours a ‘Five finger shaker,’ and walks over to his La-Z-Boy.
“Get out my chair.” Cindy stands up quickly, then gives her dad a hug.
“I’m going upstairs, do some homework.” Cindy vanishes out of sight. Foot stomps are heard as she runs up the stairs. Linda looks over the check.
“Now we can pay some bills,” says Linda sarcastically.
“What? I heard that,” Says Frank. “Yeah well, what else is new? God forbid that a man who owns the household have a drink after a hard week’s work.”
Linda does not want a fight to break. Not tonight. She tries to change her tone, keeping the conversation simple, compassionate and loving. When Frank
’s drunk, the fight always goes in his favor. If things turn sour, Frank will leave and return when Sunday football begins. Linda will not know where he is, or what he has done. All she knows, is he’s with that whore from work. Like most unstable marriages Linda will sit upstairs drowned in red wine, love novels, and Vicodin. Grandma will do the cooking for weekend and report everything the kids do.
“I’m getting chicken for dinner. El Polo Loco,” says Linda."
“Fine,” replies Frank.
“Remember, we got plans for the night.”
“What plans?”
“You wanted fun tonight, mister, well, you got it. We’re having dinner with Larson’s tonight,” says Linda.
“Who?”
“With the Larson’s remember.” Linda opens a MAC kit and freshens her makeup.
“You agreed last week when Tom was over watching the game.”
“Holy Shit!” exclaims Frank. Franks shoots down his drink, then pours another. He walks over towards Linda sitting at the dining area table. Grandma is now in the kitchen putting away the baking trays. She looks at Frank, shaking her head in disapproval. She always disapproves of Frank’s behavior. Its Linda’s job keeping her mother out of their disputes. She only gives him a reason, or a trigger to leave.
“Ah crap, I did. I remember now. All that asshole ever does is talk about his boat. Boat and fucking Ferrari. The one we never see because it’s always in the shop. What an asshole!” Frank exclaims.
Frank places his head in his hands, then rubs in hands over his face.
“Is there any way out of this? Can’t you call, say you don’t feel well.”
“No, Frank, not at the last minute. Besides, if we don’t show, they knock on our door.” Linda gets up from the dining area table, takes the car keys from her purse, places purse over her shoulder, and exits towards the front door.
“Remember, he’s your friend,” Linda yells from the foyer area.
Franks quickly walks towards Linda; she is already out the door heading towards the Range Rover in the driveway.
“You’re the one that likes his wife. I can care less about those idiots.”
“Be nice for once. Besides, there will be other couples there?”
“Who, members of the yuppie dumbass club of America.”
“Frank, stop it. I’m sure they’re nice people.”
Frank holds his stomach and starts moaning and complaining about going. Complaining about the WAC conference and the Friday night Rainbow game.
Linda is in the black Range Rover. She starts the large V8 super-charged engine, then adjusts the vanity mirror.
“How do I look?” Linda asks modestly.
“Wonderful, baby, simply wonderful.” Frank does his best Humphrey Bogart impression. Linda can never stay upset with Frank for long. He has a James Dean, Elvis Presley type of personality. Kind of like Robert Mitchell during the glory days of Hollywood. She likes that about him. He’s always excited her. His uncanny charm and sense of humor are some of the reasons why she married him.
“Do you need anything?”
“Yeah, pick me up a twelve pack.” Frank grins then raises his eyebrows.
Linda quickly exits the driveway, pretending not to hear Frank.
“Don’t forget my beer!”
“Be ready when I get back.”
Frank stands on the driveway as Linda drives away. He blows her a kiss and smiles. Linda waves out the driver side window.
Franks sits his La-Z-Boy watching Utah State vs. San Diego State. He’s had a few drinks and is completely relaxed. I’m a well-to-do man. A man of success, distinction. My home is my palace. My wife, my queen. My children, my Army. I can do no wrong. Not in this life, thinks Frank.
Cindy tiptoes quietly up to her father. It’s hit or miss with dear old Dad. She never knows what to expect. Walking in this house means walking on eggshells. Dropping breadcrumbs in the kitchen sometimes results in punishment. She gently touches his left shoulder as Frank takes another sip of his McCullen.
“Thought you were upstairs doing homework?”
The tone of Franks voice frightens Cindy. She knows her father could snap any moment.
“Done already.” Frank stays fixated on the football game.
“Darn it. What kind of a block is that? I have five-hundred on this game.” Frank looks at Cindy and smiles.
“Your mother’s bringing home the crazy chicken, so wash up.”
“Dad?”
“What? Run, you big softy! Look at that, squirt. He tips toes thought the line, don’t hit me, my hair hurts.” Frank takes a drink and shakes his head.
“Sorry, I left upstairs so early. Mom was raging on about nothing again. I just wasn’t in the mood.”
Frank laughs aloud, then brushes Cindy’s face with his hand. She’s always been his favorite.
“Welcome to my world, kiddo,” Frank says while laughing. He raises his glass, gesturing cheers. “First down, yes. That’s what we needed.”
“Dad?” Cindy looks over her father with curiosity.
“What?” Franks tone a bit agitated this time.
“Dad?” Franks slams down his drink.
“For Pete’s sake, kiddo. Out with it.” Frank looks back at the television.
“Yes, what the…? Damn it! Well, there you go, Mr. alligator arms. Shit, Grandma could catch that.” Franks wipes whiskey from his lips with his shirt.
“Can Rachel and Tara spend the night?”
“Where’s Steven and Matthew?”
“Dad, you didn’t answer.”
“I asked where your brothers are?”
Cindy lets out a frustrating sigh and places her hands atop her head.
“Matt’s at Billy’s. Steven is with um, Kim,” says Cindy. Thank goodness Dad’s into his football game.
“Son of a…, hit that son of a gun! I have $500.00 bet on this game. He looks over at Cindy and sighs.”Did you ask your mother?" Cindy begins swaying her body back and forth.
She does her best lie, “I’m asking you.”
“Yeah, I don’t care. Just don’t make a mess.” Frank looks back at the television. “Shit!”
“Thanks, Dad, we won’t.” Cindy leans to her father and kisses him on the cheek. “You’re the best, Dad.” Franks smiles.
“Yeah whatever. Now get the hell out of here.”
Cindy runs full speed upstairs and stumbles. Sleepovers are the best. It is a time when young teenage girls gossip about the cutest boys, their teachers who they despise, who dresses the worst. Hat boy is the biggest jerk. Who they want to place a spell on? It’s time when Grandma tells them about Estonia. Her experiences with World War One and Two. Cindy’s been trying to get good old Grandma to place a spell on him all this year. Tonight, she will try again, she thinks.
Cindy jumps on her bed and grabs her private phone. She pushes her memory and dials Rachel first. Cindy waits impatiently for an answer.
“Rachel. We are rocking tonight. Can you tell Tara? I got to get ready.”Duh, just called Tara. And hurry your big butt over here. Because you always take forever. Remember, eight thirty, my parents will be gone then."
Cindy quickly hangs up the phone and runs to her private bathroom. She slams the door and starts singing ‘My Sharona’ by the Knack. She knows tonight will be perfect. Thinks Cindy. I will play ’Exile on Main Street’ Side four of Pink Floyd the Wall.’ Maybe end the night the ‘Bauhaus, In the Flat Field.’ And Heart ‘Dog and Butterfly.’
Chapter Six
The front doorbell rings. Cindy runs full speed to the door.
“My Sharona. My Sharona,” she sings aloud. Cindy opens the front door. There stands Rachel, fifteen-year-old Hispanic girlfriend, straight black hair, Betty White style, Ramones T-shirt, plaid skirt, torn black stockings, and Dr. Martens boots. She also sports a leather jacket with GBH on the back.
Tara stands next to Rachel. She dresses much older for her age. Tight leather pants with high heels. She wears a provocative silver blouse with lo
ng straight red hair. She also wears too much make up for her age. This makes Grandma uncomfortable. Grandma calls Tara ‘A bad girl that attracts devil boys.’ Tara sports a black Donna Karan blazer and holds up a bag of marijuana.
“Hey, G, let the party begin,” says Tara.
“Are you crazy? Throw that away. My Grandma will kill us.” Tara looks at Cindy then blows a big purple bubble. She’s always smacking gum. This irritates Cindy and Rachel. They say it’s “cheap, hillbilly, and unattractive.”
“Have your parents left yet?” asks Rachel.
“They just left. Come in,” says Cindy. “It’s about time, you guys take forever.” Cindy shakes her head and shuts the door. She looks over at Tara, wishing she had her sexuality.
Both girls walk through the foyer towards the coat closet. They take off their jackets and properly hang them in the closet.
“Where’s Steve?” Tara asks.
“Oh no, don’t start that crap again. Besides, you’re just a child and, he’s way out of your league. He’s got Kim, remember? She’s more refined and beautiful than you. I mean seriously Tara have you seen that woman?” Tara looks at Cindy and smirks.
"He’s hot, I can’t help it. And besides, how do you know he doesn’t think I’m hot? I’ve dated older men.
“Yeah losers with plaid shirts, long hair and listen to crap music from Seattle.” Tara’s face turns red. Rachel laughs.
“I’d do him,” says Rachel.
“You know, you guys are really gross. This is my brother you’re taking about,”
“We should call him. Ask if he wants get stoned with us,” Tara says.
“Definitely,” Rachel replies.
“Your both fucking useless. Whatever happened to girl’s night out?”
“Steven would take your bag, say thanks, and head right over to Kim. You both don’t have a chance, so stop dreaming.” Cindy’s friends both know it drives her nuts when they speak about her other brother. So, they continue to taunt Cindy.
The First Culling Page 6
