“Whatever. When does he come out to sing Happy Birthday to our daughter?”
“We’ve been here close to an hour,” Allison remarked, “and I haven’t seen him out here once. Doesn’t he generally come out every so often, walk around, and say hi to the kids?”
A suspicious looking smile formed on the girl’s pursed purple lips.
“Well, like, not all the time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? We have a birthday girl who’s counting on Freddie,” said Frank touching the top of Kristen’s head.
“Usually he comes out to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ after you’re finished eating.”
“Usually? What do you mean ‘usually’?” Allison felt her face flush with the heat of irritation.
“Well, like, he’s had a few problems tonight with his costume and all so it may take a little longer than usual.” The suspicious looking smile was beginning to break into a grin, and something like a snorting sound emitted from the waitress’ pierced nose, a stifled giggle, Allison guessed. “He could probably be out in, like, a half hour if that’s okay,” she said quickly regaining her zombie-like composure.
“A half hour? Why so long?”
“It’s, like, a really long story.” She made another snorting noise and stifled her laughter until she could control it no longer. She let out a loud blast like the blare of a trumpet, turned and quickly bolted from the table, her shoulders heaving with laughter as she sprinted back to the kitchen. Frank, Allison, and Kristen all stared at one another in baffled silence.
“Well, whatever it is it must be pretty funny if it made the Stepford waitress laugh,” Frank said. “I like this place. I really like this place, Al.”
“Here wash your hands before you eat,” Allison said, handing Kristen the anti-bacterial spray.
“But Mom, I didn’t go back in the tunnels.”
“It doesn’t matter. Those game machines are filthy too, sweetie.”
“What do you expect from a place whose mascot is a rodent?” Frank said.
Kristen used the spray then handed it back to her mother.
“Here,” Allison said handing the anti-bacterial spray to Frank. “Wash your hands. You don’t need to get sick again. You’re no good to me when you’re sick.”
“My, my, aren’t we the paragon of compassion?” Frank said, spraying his hands.
“Is Freddie coming to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me?” Kristen’s little face looked worried.
“Yes, sweetie, he’s coming if I have to drag him to the table by his mouse ears. Now how about some pizza? I’m starved.” Frank distributed the paper plates and cut the pizza slices free with a plastic knife.
Matthew came back to the table with Alex dragging defiantly behind, right along with the frayed hems of his bell bottom blue jeans, earplugs in place, blocking out the rest of the world. Alex looked up at Allison, his face sullen and sad, mostly hidden behind his dark bangs. He hid his painful adolescent self-consciousness behind those bangs and an air of bravado. His prominent nose seemed to have grown faster than the rest of his features, and to make matters worse, his skin had recently erupted with the first signs of puberty. The other day she passed by him as he leaned over his bathroom sink, eyes affixed to the mirror, compulsively picking at his acne. She admonished him to just leave his face alone and that the picking would just make it worse. He told her to get off his ass and that this was his way of dealing with the acne. He said she ought to be lucky he didn’t take a blow torch to his face. She offered to take him to a dermatologist but he said what was the f-ing point? She ignored the cussing and tried to console him by telling him she was sure he would outgrow it like she did and end up a very handsome man.
“You know, in France they call acne fleur de jeunesse. It means ‘flowers of youth’.”
“Well, in the U.S. they’ll always be known as zits,” he hollered, right before kicking the bathroom door shut in her face and slamming her out of his life once again.
Matthew looked like her. Kristen looked like Frank. Alex was a strange combination of the two. On more than one occasion Alex had asked if he was adopted. When did this loneliness set in, Allison wondered? He was the happiest baby of the three. The heartiest and most robust. He used to laugh in his sleep. Where did that smile and little boy laughter go that he would now question his parentage and think himself an orphan? I’ve killed his spirit.
Allison noticed everyone at the table seemed completely absorbed in the pizza. Matthew studied his slice carefully from every angle after each huge bite. Alex gulped and inhaled with a vehemence. Allison was uncertain if it was hunger, anger, or simply a desire to get away from the table as soon as possible. Kristen bit and chewed happily and steadily, shifting around in her chair, swinging her legs, and humming along with the music. Frank cut his pizza up with a plastic fork and knife and ate it European style. Only the sound of chewing and swallowing could be heard as the curtain once again opened on the singing animals. Allison pulled an overcooked mushroom off her slice and tested the elasticity of the mozzarella cheese beneath.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Kristen asked. Her finger always seemed to be on the emotional pulse of the family.
“Nothing. I just think your brother could slow down a little on his pizza. And maybe acknowledge some of his family members. You haven’t said one word to any of us all evening, Alex.”
“I got nothin’ to say,” he said with a mouth full of food.
“Then sit up straight and chew with your mouth closed. You keep eating like that and we’ll have to perform the Heimlich maneuver on you,” Frank said.
“Don’t do me any favors. If I start to choke just let me die,” came the sad response from the young Alex.
“Could I have that in writing?” Frank replied.
“Frank, don’t talk like that. Don’t even joke like that. It’s not funny.”
“I’m done. I’m gonna go play some more games.” Alex carelessly wiped his hands on a paper napkin which he threw on the table as he stood up. “Hey, all you said was I had to come to the table and eat. I did that. Now I’m leavin’.”
“Fine! Go! Just remember, you use up all your allowance on those idiotic games and you’re not getting another red cent from me. And Matthew, I don’t want you giving him any of your money. Do you understand?”
“I won’t, Dad,” Matthew said as his parents watched Alex walk away from the table in long deliberate strides.
“Go keep an eye on him, will you?” Frank commanded more than asked.
“Let him finish eating first,” Allison said, feeling the unfairness of making poor Mattie the watchdog.
“No, it’s okay. I’m finished,” Matthew said. Allison thought he was as anxious to get away from the table as Alex was. “May I please be excused?”
“You’re excused,” said Frank, blowing out a long and heavy sigh.
“Don’t worry, Kristen. I’ll come back to the table to sing ‘Happy Birthday’. I’ll keep an eye out for Freddie Fieldmouse for you,” Matthew reassured his little sister with a pat on the shoulder.
“I wish you wouldn’t make him spy on Alex. It’s just going to cause resentment between them,” Allison said as Matthew walked away.
“So? They already resent each other.”
“Yeah, and you’ve contributed to that.”
“Please don’t fight,” Kristen whined.
“We’re not fighting. Just discussing, sweetie,” Allison tried to reassure her.
“Then don’t discuss. Not on my birthday. Don’t discuss anymore,” Allison marveled at the speed with which this child could produce tears–real tears–expelled with such force from somewhere deep within her being, staining her cheeks and eyelashes as they made their way down her face.
“Honey don’t.”
Frank and Allison suddenly encircled the child, laying hands on her, first one clutching her then the other. Frank took his monogrammed handkerchief from his hip pocket and wiped the child’s tears.
“
Here, blow,” he said placing the handkerchief over her nose.
Allison pushed his hand away and shoved a wad of Kleenex in front of her face. “No, here! That has your germs on it.”
“I haven’t used it all day.”
“You’ll stick it back in your pocket and forget about it, then pull it out tonight and use it. That’s how germs get passed around. That’s how an entire household gets sick.”
“Stop!” Kristen wailed in one great sob, so loud that it made the kid with the filthy socks and his mother turn to look at them.
“Sweetie please. We’re not angry. We’re having a great time. We’re here at Freddie Fieldmouse. You’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
“By the way, where is that damned mouse?” Frank said looking around. “Would you like Freddie to come out now? Would that make everything all better?” Kristen nodded. “Fantastic! We’ll get him out here then,” Frank said, then turned his attention to Allison. “I think I see our waitress. I’m going to have a little chat with her.”
Allison watched him move purposefully across the large room. She could tell he was mad because that was the only time he moved fast anymore. He descended upon the poor waitress, nearly startling her out of her wits. She watched the exchange between them. The angrier Frank became, the more amused the waitress seemed to become. Had she not been female, he would have punched her. Whenever he got really mad, Frank’s Italian blood would bubble to the surface, drowning out any trace of his cool rational half-WASP heritage. He had reached that point, Allison thought, as she watched him throwing his arms around in large dramatic gestures. The waitress regained her zombie-like composure and headed back to the kitchen.
Frank returned to the table, his fists and teeth clenched in unison.
“Well, what’s the story?” Allison asked.
He gave her a look then turned his attention to Kristen.
“Honey, you go play for a little bit. Here are some tokens.” He picked up a plastic cup and rattled the metal coins inside, offering it to her.
“Is Freddie coming out?”
“Yes, honey, but it’ll be a few minutes. We’ll come get you when he comes.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” they said together as the child scooted off her chair.
“All right so what’s the status on the mouse?” Allison asked.
“According to Miss Congeniality he can’t make an appearance until his costume dries out.”
“What!?”
“Apparently he had a mishap. All she could tell me was that it involved a trash can and a water hose.”
“What?! So what did you say?”
“I told her I don’t care if he drips all over us, I expect him to get his rat’s ass out here in ten minutes to sing Happy Birthday to my kid.”
“Great. Now it’ll be another half hour. We need to talk to the manager about this.”
“I’ll do more than talk to the manager. I’ll go back in that kitchen and make an ugly scene.”
“Calm down, Frank.”
“First you imply I’m not being assertive enough then you tell me to calm down. Which is it?”
“Look, I don’t want to fight about this.”
“Neither do I. It’s ridiculous.”
This is it, Allison thought. The way this evening’s been going this will be my only opportunity.
“Frank,” Allison cleared her throat. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.” She sized him up quickly to see if there was any trace of anger left. He was scowling but seemed to be breathing regularly. Dive right in, girl. It’s the only way.
“So talk.”
“It’s just not working, Frank. We’ve tried everything and we need to do something different this time.” Allison avoided his eyes and looked instead at the paper napkin she’d been folding repeatedly until now it was a small thick wad.
“What’s not working? What are you talking about?”
“Us. Our marriage.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m not sure. I just think we need some space from each other, some time to figure things out.”
“Do you want a divorce?”
“I didn’t say that. Do you?”
“No!”
“I don’t know what I want. I just know I can’t figure it out until I get some distance from you. We need to separate.”
“Separate!”
“Maybe only for a time. You know, like a trial separation. Everything we’ve tried hasn’t worked. We’ve been to three marriage counselors in the past five years, but it just keeps getting worse and worse. I can’t take the fighting anymore, Frank. I just can’t take it!”
“Yeah, but separate,” he said, seeming suddenly pale.
“Why are you so shocked? Look at you! You’re obviously not happy. Give me one good reason why we should stay together.”
“The kids.”
“The kids. That’s a very good reason why we should separate right now. Look at what our fighting is doing to them. Matthew’s skipped childhood. He’s more parent to us than we are to him. Alex is like a time bomb. We both know he’s headed for big trouble if something doesn’t change. And Kristen. She’s so insecure and overly sensitive. And I know she’s immature, and I know that’s partly my fault, but I guess I’ve just spoiled her because I feel so bad that she’s had to endure all this. If we stay together it’ll only make everything worse for the kids. Don’t you see?!”
“It sure sounds like you’re asking for a divorce.”
“You’re the one who keeps saying that. I’ve never once mentioned the “D” word. Look, Frank, I’m so confused I don’t know what I’m asking for–just more time.”
“Why the hell did you pick now to spring this on me?”
“This is the only chance we’ve had to talk all week.”
“It’s Kristen’s birthday!”
“We’re not going to tell her tonight. In fact I think we should wait a few days before we talk to the kids about this. You know, give us some time to prepare. In the meantime you need to start looking for a place to live.”
“A place to live? You’re kicking me out of my home?”
“Look, the kids need to stay in their home while all this is going on and they need to be with me. I’m the one that knows what they need, what their schedules are, when they need to be here and there and at what time. You’re gone so much of the time anyway. It only makes sense that you be the one to move out. For now.”
Frank slammed his fist on the table.
“Why are you fighting this?” Allison said. “If it’s the money you’re worried about…”
“It’s not the money.”
“I’m going back to work. I’ve already got a new resume made up and I’ve actually got a few leads. So you don’t need to worry about what it’ll cost to run two households. You know me, I’ll find something soon. And if I don’t find anything right away, I’ve got the money that my grandmother left me. You know I re-invested it and it’s done pretty well over the last year. I won’t ask you for anything more than what’s fair and reasonable to support our children.”
“I see you’ve thought all this out. So how long have you been thinking about it, huh Al?”
“A long time.”
“And just what made you decide for sure?”
“Oh, something happened that triggered old memories, made me think about our courtship and wedding. We were both on the rebound when we got married, you know.”
“I know,” Frank said, his eyes downcast, his voice full of pain.
“Look, I don’t want this to get ugly. I know you don’t either.” Frank said nothing. He just continued looking down. “So, are we agreed?”
He nodded in resignation. “I’ll call Tim Schultz first thing Monday morning. Maybe he can, you know, help draw up a legal agreement.”
“Now it sounds like you’re talking divorce.”
“No, but a legal separation maybe; you know, so we can get all the vis
itation stuff worked out. Besides, Tim has that guest house on his property. Maybe he’ll let me stay there until I get my feet on the ground. That is if you don’t mind me saying something to Tim.”
“Why should I mind? He’s an old friend,” Allison said remembering how they’d just seen Tim a week ago after the concert and how they stood there reminiscing about her and Frank’s wedding day.
“Good. I’ll call him tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to be out that soon.”
“I’ll be out tomorrow. One way or another.” His words were emphatic as they sounded forth from his clenched jaw.
“Okay! Okay! I just don’t want to fight. There’s been enough fighting.”
Frank withdrew with a sigh. He was deep in his cave where Allison was never invited and dare never venture. The moments of silence passed between them as Allison tried to think of something constructive to say.
I want it to work, Frank. She wanted to say it but didn’t dare. She needed to know if he wanted it to work. Really work. Not just stay together, status quo, in a dying marriage for the sake of the kids or the favorable image it presented to the public, or whatever other reason. Do you really want it to work, Frank, because you love me and you don’t want to lose me. Please Frank please, Allison pleaded inside her head. Do something… anything to prove you still love me. Fight for me, damnit! Fight for me, not against me.
Frank startled himself out of his solitary world of pain with a quick jerk of his shoulders and a hurried glance at his watch. “Okay, so it’s been every bit of ten minutes. Where is that damned mouse?” Allison’s eyes burned and felt heavy with the weight of restrained tears. She pushed them all back down with one great swallow.
Frank flagged down the waitress with a frantic wave of both arms. She strolled over as if she had all the time in the world and nothing better to do.
“Can I help you?” The waitress nonchalantly replied.
“Hell, yes, you can help me. I want to speak to your manager. And you better not tell me he’s drying his clothes out too. Now will you go get him or shall I?” Frank’s voice was controlled but his face was nearly purple with rage.
The girls eyes widened in shock. “I’ll get him, sir. Right away.”
ODD NUMBERS Page 5
