are my
legs
sticky?
Sticky red.
Did
I hurt
myself
in sleep?
On purpose?
What
is wrong
with me?
My brain
is mud.
There
goes the Tilt
-A-
Whirl
again.
I’m
spinning
out of
control
again.
Stepping
over
the edge
again.
Knocking
Pounding. Little fists
falling against the wood
of my bedroom door.
Wake up, sleepyhead!
Daddy has to go to work.
Devon’s voice is bright
as the sunshine, painting
streaks on the walls.
I throw back the sheets.
Blood. Lots of it. Great.
My monthly visitor. At
least I don’t have to feel
so bad about not calling
the doctor. No need for
the pill today, anyway.
I clean up, strip the sheets
from the bed and take
them down to the washer.
The girls are in the kitchen,
munching cereal. No school
this week, they’re all mine.
I put in a call to Trey. No
answer. No surprise. I’m
getting ready to leave a
voice mail when the door
bell rings. He’s here!
LaTreya beats me to the door
and flings it open. Mommy!
she screams, throwing her arms
around the slender redhead.
Angela steps through the door,
levels me with a shot of green
eyes. Who the hell are you?
Standing There
Wearing zip but a long T-shirt
and underwear, I
introduce myself,
“I’m Kristina, the girls’ nanny.”
Angela is unimpressed. [Angela
is totally irritated.]
Well, I happen to
be the girls’ mother. Where’s Brad?
She’s pissing me off. “I figured
that’s who you
were when LaTreya
called you ‘Mommy.’ Brad’s at work.”
Another evil blink of snake green eyes.
I thought I’d take
the kids shopping.
Girls, go put on your shoes, please.
The kids hustle upstairs, which is good.
Trying to take them could
come down to blows.
“Not without Brad’s permission.”
The cobra strikes quickly. I don’t
know who you
think you are, but
I’ll do as I please with my daughters.
“No, I don’t think you will. You lost that
privilege when you
walked out the door.
Now let’s give Brad a call, okay?”
You are awfully possessive of someone
else’s children. She
looks me up and
down. And you don’t dress like hired help.
My face heats, but I stand my
ground. “One call
will settle this.
Let’s go into the kitchen and make it.”
It’s a Short Conversation
Brad is on his way home.
Angela sits at the kitchen
table, waiting. The girls
bound into the room, all
giggles. I think I’m jealous.
I know I’m jealous when
Brad walks through the
door. The look on his face
is unmistakable. He loves
Angela, through the pain.
Daddy! cries Devon. Mommy’s
home. She jumps into Angela’s
lap and LaTreya moves to her
side, protective. They love her
unconditionally, pain all gone.
I excuse myself so they can talk,
knowing my life has veered,
suddenly, surely. But exactly
which direction it has veered
in remains to be discovered.
Four Cigarettes
And two bowls later,
Brad calls me downstairs.
Without his saying a single
word, I know I’m leaving.
Angela has already left,
and she took the kids with
her. Not a good sign for me.
But what about for Brad?
Angela wants to try again.
He pauses to let it sink in.
I don’t know if it’s the
right thing to do, Kristina.
But the girls miss her so
much. I have to think about
what’s best for them, right?
His eyes hold massive hope.
I want him to be happy.
“I don’t guess she wants
a live-in nanny, huh?” I
reach for an honest smile.
He shakes his head. I’ll help
you find a place, okay? Oh.
There’s more. I have to give
up the ice. I don’t know if I can.
Wow. He really does love her.
Could I give up the monster
for Trey? I don’t know either.
Luckily, it isn’t an issue.
I’ll make you a deal. Take
my stash. Pay me when you can.
And I’ll introduce you to my
connection. You’ll be okay.
I feel like I swallowed
a plate of mercury. Still, I go
over to Brad, look up into
his eyes. “Sure. I’ll be fine.”
Just Like That
Everything’s different.
Just like that, everything’s
changed.
Just like that, every
vestige of imagined
stability,
like a time-worried
weave, has come
unraveled.
Not long ago, I believed
I wanted complete
independence.
But living here with
a borrowed family
demolished
that idea. I don’t
want to be without
companionship.
And the monster
doesn’t count.
All Alone
In a weekly
motel, in a
not-real-nice
part of Reno,
I look at my
possessions,
every damn
thing I own,
contained in
one medium
size suitcase
and one box.
At least the
place is clean,
no noteworthy
bugs or stains.
I sit in the red
vinyl chair, flip
on the twelve-
inch TV, stare
mindlessly at
whatever’s on.
And only now
do I let myself
cry.
No Word from Trey
Despite the desperate voice
mails I left. I can’t stand
sitting here, alone. No one
to talk to. No one to laugh
with. Only the monster for
company. What fun is that?
I’m going crazy. Fucking
crazy. Even hanging with
Mom and Scott would be
better than this. At least
I’d have Hunter to play
with. A sudden wave of
guilt rolls over me. With
it comes a thought. Would
they let me move back in?
I dial the house, but get
the machine. Aagh! Maybe
I should just get in my car.
and drive out there. [No
one’s home, idiot.] I’ve
got to talk to someone.
Who can I call? Robyn?
[She’s yanking off some
guy from Toledo.] I know.
I open the address book
on my cell, punch some
numbers, cross my fingers
that a real, living being will
actually answer. He does,
first ring. “Hello, Quade?”
We Talk for Half an Hour
He’s kind, but not overly
sympathetic. You’ve made
some rotten choices. They
caught up with you is all.
The meth makes me want to do
more than talk. I want to confess.
“Have you ever slept with
two women at the same time?”
You mean “every guy’s
fantasy”? I had the chance
several times but no, I never
took advantage of it.
He is lead singer in a band.
He describes a couple of
times he had the chance
to play sandwich meat.
But for me sex is more
than just about feeling good.
It’s about feeling something
special for someone.
“You mean love.” It’s
a statement, not a question.
Loveless sex is meaningless.
Has Trey concluded that?
Exactly. The other guys
in the band don’t feel
the same way, but singing
for sex negates the art.
Okay, he’s a little strange.
But I really, really like him.
And I really need a friend.
“Is it okay if I call again?”
Anytime, little sister.
Anytime at all. You know
I’ve always cared for you.
That hasn’t changed a bit.
Intense. He cares for me.
But does he care for me
as a friend? Potential lover?
Or—heaven forbid—little sister?
Buzzed
Bleeding. Bored out of my tree, I decide
to take a walk. This part of town is run
down, with cracked sidewalks and pot
holed streets and dirty people, huddled
against weary buildings. A few yellow
streetlights buzz with effort, but don’t do
much against the moonless night. Still, down
town is only a few blocks away, and there’s
plenty of light there—neon light, in rainbow
colors, fountaining up casino towers. It’s spring
break, so even though it’s very late, a lot of
people flow along the main avenues. Strangers.
They’re strangers, but I don’t care. I want to be
among them. Flow with them. Bodies. Faces.
Most from any place but here. I like looking
at the faces. All races. Expressions. Joyful (winners).
Hateful (losers). Confused (users). Suddenly
a single face falls into focus. Familiar. Loved.
“Chase!” I run toward him, parting the crowd.
He sees me. Smiles. Frowns. Half-waves.
I see now he’s walking with someone. Holding her
hand. She’s prettier than me. And she’s pregnant.
What Do I Do Now?
I want to turn. Flee.
Act cowardly. But we’re
practically touching.
[Play the game.] “Hey,
Chase. Long time, no see.”
He drops the girl’s hand,
dares to reach out and hug
me. God, it’s good to see
you. He backs away. Oh,
this is my wife, Amanda.
Wife? Yep. Matching
gold bands. [Don’t you
dare cry. Suck it up.]
“Hi, Amanda. I’m Kristina.
Chase and I…are friends.”
Amanda tosses her long
blond hair. Smiles. Good
to meet you. I’ve heard
a lot about you. You were
a hard act to follow.
Chase told her about me?
Yes, I guess that’s like
him. Honest till it hurts.
I don’t know what to say
except, “Home for a visit?”
Chase nods. We eloped,
so my mom hadn’t met
Amanda yet. Thought
we should fix that
before the baby’s born.
We make small talk
for a few minutes, my
end of the conversation
minuscule, compared
to all of Chase’s news.
Finally he decides,
It’s pretty late. We’d
better go before Mom
decides we skipped
town. Take care.
“You too. And let me
know when the baby
comes, okay?” I watch
them walk hip-to-hip
down the street. And
despite all the people—
bodies, faces—swarming
around me like pissed
yellow jackets, I have
never felt so abandoned.
I Sit for a While
On a bench along
the River Walk,
listen to
the opera of
the Truckee
River at night.
The water
is high, after our
massive winter.
It rushes past,
calling
over the rocks,
You’re not alone.
I’m here, aren’t I?
Coaxing,
Oh, the places I
can take you. Ride
along with me.
Cajoling,
Come on. It’s easy.
Just walk to the railing.
One quick step over…
Chanting,
Easy. It’s easy. One
quick step. It’s easy.
I’ll sing you to sleep.
One quick step.
I go to the railing,
tilt my face over, into
a cold, black breeze.
Into death,
reaching out for me.
It touches my face,
tempting me,
It’s easy.
No! Not yet. I throw
myself into reverse,
head back to the motel.
Bright and Early
The next morning, Brad
calls on his way to work.
Glad you’re up. Is
everything okay?
“I’ve been up since day
before yesterday. And
everything’s fucked,
like anyone gives a shit.”
Okay, I’m kind of bitchy.
Several reasons for that.
Brad ignores the jab. I talked
to Cesar. He’s good with
meeting you. After work?
“Sure. Pick me up? You
know where to find me.”
For the second time I’m
about to become intertwined
with La Eme. Mexican Mafia.
Some totally tough Latinos.
Definitely not the kind of
guys you want to mess over.
No problem. I’ll play straight
with them. Cash and carry.
That’s the only way to deal
with Cesar and La Eme.
Brad Picks Me Up
&nbs
p; Right on time. I figured we’d
head for the projects. Instead,
he drives well east of the city,
to the little bedroom community
of Fernley. It’s a silent twenty-
minute drive. What’s left to say?
Cesar lives in a well-kept
mobile home on a ten-acre
piece of high desert ground.
When we pull through the gate,
we are greeted by a rottweiler
the size of a Shetland pony.
The animal woofs like a bear,
and drool slides from his jowls.
The commotion brings Cesar
(I assume) to the front door.
León! Abajo! he commands.
The dog drops to the ground.
He’ll expect us to stay at
least a half hour, Brad says.
But he doesn’t use, so don’t
even go there. He opens the
door, slips from beneath the
wheel, and I follow him inside.
Furnishings are sparse. We
sit around a small card table.
Brad handles the introductions,
and Cesar regards me carefully.
After a few tense moments, he
nods, deciding I’m not the heat.
I don’t deal less than quarter
pounds, and won’t front until
I know you’re a regular. Then
we can talk. How much today?
His eyes travel back and forth
Glass - 02 Page 24
