Breakfast with Neruda

by Laura Moe

  “Hard to tell,” my sister says. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “I sometimes wonder if she knows I’m there at all.”

  Earl steps out onto the porch. He is holding three bowls of ice cream and hands one to each of us. “Homemade peach,” he says.

  Annie takes a bite. “This is awesome.”

  “Like eating bites of heaven,” I say.

  Earl snickers. “Dot knows a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” he says. “Had a heck of a time getting our kids to move out ’cause of Dot’s cooking.”

  “He tried to get me to stop feeding them,” Dot says, as she steps outside. Dot pats Earl’s back and sits on the porch swing.

  Earl sits down next to her. “They lost their usefulness when they started high school,” he says. “Dating, jobs, and all that. It was like pulling teeth to get them to do their chores.”

  “And you miss them terribly every day,” Dot says.

  Earl shrugs and shovels some more ice cream in his mouth.

  “Foster still lives nearby, and they bring their kids out every Sunday,” Dot says. “They have two boys.” She looks at Annie. “You might know Conner. He’s a freshman too.”

  Annie thinks for a second. “Oh, yeah,” she says. “I hadn’t made the connection.”

  Dot and Earl swing slowly. “Most of this damned town is related,” Earl says. “About half the teachers and kids at school are relatives of one or both of us.”

  “Earl and I were high school sweethearts,” Dot says.

  Earl puts his arm around his wife. “And we’re still sweethearts.”

  Dot rests her head on Earl’s shoulder.

  • • •

  Annie’s and my rooms are next to one another with a shared bathroom. Annie cried when she first sat on her new bed and surveyed the sparkling, feminine space. “This was our daughter Jane’s room,” Dot had said. “But you rearrange it however you like, hon.”

  My room is their youngest son Foster’s old room, and it, too, is clean and inviting. As it starts to get dark, I haul the rest of my stuff upstairs. I hang up a couple shirts and put my clean socks and underwear in the drawers. It’s been a long, long time since I have been able to do that.

  I hear Annie rattling around in her room, and I knock on her door. She yells for me to come in.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” I can see she has not changed the arrangement, only set a couple of her things on the dresser.

  She sits on the bed. “It feels weird to actually have a bed again.”

  I nod. “Do you want me to go talk to Mom tomorrow?” I ask. “Or should we go talk to her together?”

  “I’d love it if you came with me,” Annie says. She runs her hands across the flowered bedspread. “I can’t fully enjoy any of this until I know she’s okay, you know?”

  I nod. “I’ll pick you up when I’m done with my shift at school. Get some sleep."

  I saunter back to my own room. It’s been at least a decade since I’ve had a bedroom comfortable enough for restful sleep.

  I figure I’ll lie awake all night thinking, but I sleep like a mummy. Earl and Dot actually have chickens that act as feathered alarm clocks at 5:30 in the morning. It’s weird waking up in a real bed. I stretch my arms up completely over my head. Funny how a simple thing like being able to stretch my arms makes me feel so grateful.

  I hear footsteps below, and Earl and Dot’s muffled conversation. A few minutes later I smell coffee and bacon.

  I get up and pee, brush my teeth, and wash my face. I run into Annie in the hallway; she is holding a towel and a change of clothes. “How’d you sleep?” I ask.

  “Great,” she says. “At first it felt too quiet, but it was nice not to have to hear raccoons knocking over trashcans.”

  I sniff the air. I smell eggs and toast along with the bacon. “I think you and I will get fat living here.”

  She laughs and closes the bathroom door behind her. After I dress, I race downstairs toward the food. Earl sits behind the newspaper with a coffee mug in front of him. Dot stands at the stove, scrambling eggs.

  “Smells great in here,” I say.

  “Breakfast is almost ready,” Dot says. “Help yourself to coffee.”

  I sit down across from Earl with my mug. “Sleep okay, kid?” he asks from behind the paper.

  “I did. Thank you.”

  Earl slides the sports section my way, and we read in comfortable silence until Dot places a plate of breakfast in front of each of us. Earl folds the paper and starts eating. Dot joins us with a plate.

  “Annie takes forever to get ready,” I say.

  “Girls always do,” Earl says.

  I take a bite. “These are the best eggs I have ever eaten,” I say.

  “They’re fresh from our hens,” Dot says. “Nothing beats free-range eggs. Happy chickens produce good eggs.”

  It occurs to me I will miss breakfast with Shelly. I left my phone upstairs, so I can’t text her. She knows I’m here, but I hate the thought of her standing around alone outside the building. As if Earl reads my mind, he glances at his watch and says, “Better finish up so you can meet your girlfriend.”

  I feel myself blush, and I shovel the food in my mouth. After I thank Dot for breakfast and leave to go upstairs, I hear Earl yell, “Don’t be late, kid. Eight A.M.!”

  I smile and shake my head.

  Shelly stands at the back fence, smoking as usual. She waves as I pull up. When I step out of my car, she says, “Neruda! You don’t look like feral cat. Sleeping in a house agrees with you.”

  I chuckle and kiss her. “Good morning to you too.”

  “So, how is life living with Earl?”

  “His wife is real nice,” I say. I pat my stomach. “And she’s the best cook in the world.”

  “So you’ve already eaten?”

  “Yeah, but I can take you somewhere. I’ll have a cup of coffee.”

  As we pull away from the school, Shelly asks, “Is Earl any different at home?”

  “Not really. He has that gruff exterior, but he’s a pussycat underneath.”

  “He takes in strays,” Shelly says, “so he’s got a soft spot somewhere.” I nod. “How is Annie doing?”

  “She really likes it there, but she’s worried about our mom.”

  “How do you think she’ll react? Do you think she’s noticed Annie’s gone?”

  I shrug. “Hard to tell. I mean, she barely noticed when I left. Annie left a note, but Mom may not even find it. How could she, with all that stuff?”

  “But she will notice eventually, right?”

  “Yeah. Hopefully she won’t freak out. Annie’s worried this could take Mom over the edge.”

  “Or it could force her to get some help.”

  “Maybe,” I say. “Earl and Dot plan to meet with her and talk her into letting them get custody of Annie.” We pull into Steak ’n Shake. “Did you know Earl takes in foster kids?”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Dot says they started fostering kids after their own moved out.” I am just about to get out of the car when I notice Rick and Ashley. “Shit!” I slam my door shut and put the key in the ignition.

  “What’s the matter?” Shelly asks.

  “I can’t deal with him.” I point to Rick sitting in a booth near the window.

  “So every time you see him, you’re going to get back in your car and drive away?” she says. “You know Rooster is a small town, and you two will run into one another.”

  I still have my hand on the key ready to turn it. Then I sit back and run my hands through my hair and groan. I hate to admit she’s right.

  “Neruda, I don’t know Rick,” Shelly says, “but it seems he’s forgiven you. Maybe you haven’t forgiven yourself.”

  “Why would I need to forgive myself?”

  “For being an asshat.”

  “Like he wasn’t?”

  “Okay, you’re both idiots,” she says.

  “I have nothing to say to him.” I gla
nce at her. “And besides, he’s spreading lies about you.”

  She scrunches her face. “Who isn’t? I’m over it.” She pulls the keys out of the ignition. “I’m hungry, so let’s go inside and sit down.”

  I groan and step out of the car. Shelly and I stroll inside hand in hand as I try not to look in Rick and Ashley’s direction. The only free table is a booth near them. Shelly pulls me toward it and we sit.

  I hide behind my menu, and Shelly kicks at my feet. “Stop it,” I mutter.

  “He’s looking this way,” she whispers. “It’s pretty obvious you’re ignoring him.”

  The waitress blocks Rick from view. I take my time looking over the menu even though I have already eaten breakfast. Shelly orders her meal and glares at me. “We don’t have all day, Neruda.”

  I close my menu. “I’ll just have a cup of coffee.”

  After the waitress walks away, Shelly calls me an ass. She slides out of the booth, and before I can stop her, she walks to Rick and Ashley’s table. She looks directly at Rick. “Okay, you guys need to kiss and make up because he,” she points back at me, “is driving me nuts.”

  “So is Rick,” Ashley says.

  I roll my eyes. I can’t even get up and leave because Shelly still has my keys. Rick sighs and sets down his fork. He throws up his hands in defeat and strides to my table. He sits across from me as Shelly claims Rick’s place at the table across from Ashley.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Hey.”

  The waitress, looking confused, sets Shelly’s and my coffee down. “Thanks,” I say. I glance over at Shelly, but she is deep in conversation with my ex-girlfriend. That can only be a disaster.

  Rick taps on the table and looks out the window, and I fumble with the handle on my coffee cup. “You’re wrong about Shelly,” I say.

  “Okay,” he says. “I’m sorry. I just went on what I heard.”

  “Get a hearing aid, Grandpa, because what you heard was a truckload of elephant shit.”

  He snorts a laugh. “Does this make us even for you trying to kill me?”

  “I didn’t try to kill you,” I say. “I only wanted to blow up your car.”

  “Yeah, and that turned out well for you.”

  “You started it.”

  Rick considers this. “Yes, I did. But you were the inadvertent catalyst in pushing Ashley and I together.”

  “Ashley and me.”

  “Fuck you and your AP English grammar.”

  I smile. He always hated it when I one-upped him. “Words are all I have,” I say. “I got expelled from school, I am spending my summer cleaning the school, and until yesterday, I was living in my car.”

  Rick leans against the back of the booth. “Say what?” he pauses, wrinkles his forehead. “What?”

  “You know how I never took you to my house these past couple years?” He nods. “There was some truth that my mom slept in the daytime,” I say. “She often works nights. But the real reason is she’s a hoarder. The house is a total disaster. And it got to where I couldn’t stand it, so I moved out and started living in my car last fall.”

  “Jesus,” he says. “You lived in . . . did Ashley know?”

  “Nobody knew. Other than Mom, Jeff, and Annie.” I say. “And Shelly. She figured it out the first day she met me.”

  “But where are you living now?”

  “With Earl.”

  “The custodian?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “He noticed my car was on the school lot before he got there every morning. Once I admitted to Earl I lived in it, he insisted I move in with him and his wife.” I take a swallow of coffee. “Annie’s there too.”

  “Holy shit, Flynnstone. You could have moved in with us.”

  I look down. “I didn’t want anybody to know.”

  He shook his head. “No wonder you went a little crazy.”

  I shrug. “I was crazier before. But yeah,” I say, “the pressure may have exacerbated things. I was often hungry.”

  Shelly approaches the table, holding a carry-out bag. “So are you two friends again?”

  I raise my eyebrows and look at Rick. “I guess,” he says.

  I smirk. “Someone has to do it.”

  “Neruda,” she says, “we have to get back to school. I’ve already paid.”

  Rick and I slide out from behind the booth. “Neruda?” he asks.

  “It’s his chosen name,” Shelly says. “For his fake ID. Michael Neruda.”

  “Cool.”

  “Yeah, well, see ya,” I say to Rick.

  “Shake his hand,” Shelly nudges me.

  “Okay, but I’m not kissing him.” Rick laughs, and he and I shake. “Later, man.”

  I wave at Ashley as we walk out. Interesting how I feel nothing for her anymore.

  Shelly starts nibbling on her breakfast in the car as I pull out onto Rocket Road. “Thanks,” I tell her. “I no longer feel like something is poking needles into my innards.” She nods and chews. “And it’s getting easier to tell people my mom is a hoarder.” Shelly takes a long sip of her coffee.

  “Maybe I’ll put it on a billboard,” I say. “Susan Marie Flynn is a Giant Hoarder.”

  Shelly laughs and takes a big bite of her sandwich.

  “You have no idea how much better I feel right now. Like the sun came up after a long, hazy winter,” I say.

  At the stoplight, I lean over and kiss Shelly. She tastes like eggs and cheese. She leans her head on my shoulder the rest of the way back to school.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I’m not looking forward to facing my mother with Annie. Earl offers to join us, but I figure he might stoke the fire. “Let me see how she takes it first,” I tell him.

  As we pull up in front of the townhouse, Annie says, “Let’s hope she’s in a good mood.”

  “Or that she hasn’t called the cops and filed a missing person report.”

  We head to the back of the house and walk in through the screen door. Mom is standing by the counter, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Her freshly showered hair hangs in a long braid down her back. “Hey, kids,” she says. She picks up a cigarette and twists the base before putting it in her mouth. She inhales and expels smoke.

  “You didn’t light it,” Annie says.

  “It’s called an e-cigarette,” Mom says. “It expels mist, but no tobacco smoke.” She hands it to us to look at. “I’m trying to quit, and one of my patients gave it to me.”

  “Cool.” I hand it back to her.

  Annie clears her throat. “Have you noticed the back porch is clean?”

  “Yes,” Mom says. “What did you do with it all?”

  “I moved.”

  Our mother raises her eyebrows. “Where?”

  “We’re both living with Earl, the head custodian at school,” I say.

  “Earl! Oh my God. He was there when I was in school.”

  “Yeah,” I say, “He said he remembered you.”

  Mom starts puttering around with stuff on the counter. Annie and I glance at each other. “Mom,” Annie says. “Did you hear what I said? I moved.”

  “Yes, I heard you.” Mom pulls a large plastic bowl from a pile of junk on the counter and rinses it off in the sink. She sets the bowl down, turns to us, and says, “I need to go get dressed for work now.” She grabs her coffee cup and her e-cigarette, and disappears into the other room.

  Annie and I just look at each other. “What was that?” she asks.

  “Beats me.”

  Our mother went on a rampage when Paul picked Jeff up. She threw things at them both as they loaded Paul’s truck. When Jeff climbed into the passenger seat, Mom grabbed his sleeve and pleaded with him to stay.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” Jeff said. “I can’t live here anymore.” He gently removed her hand from his shirt and closed the door. As Paul and Jeff drove away, Mom collapsed in the yard and wailed.

  When I left, she helped me load my car. “Now whenever you get cold or need to eat, make sure you come back inside,
” she said. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  “It’s like I don’t even exist.” Annie storms out the back door.

  “Mom!” I follow my mother into the living room.

  My mother doesn’t notice my presence. She sets down her coffee cup and electronic cigarette and lifts an afghan from the couch. She drapes it around her shoulders like a cape. She closes her eyes and twirls, her lips curled in a wistful smile. And it hits me. The cape—like the one she described the first time she and my father met under the stage. This mess of a house is her prop room. My mother has never left that room.

  I back out quietly and go look for my sister. Annie is sitting on the back steps, sobbing. I kneel and wrap my arms around my sister.

  “She cares more about all that junk than she does about her own children,” Annie says between sobs.

  “She’s confused,” I say. “She doesn’t know what she cares about anymore.” Someday I’ll explain to Annie what I figured out, but right now is not the moment to do that.

  I drop Annie off at Earl and Dot’s and head to work at the theater. On the way, my phone rings.

  “So how did your mother take the news of you and Annie living with Earl?” Shelly asks.

  “Surprisingly well,” I say. “She was creepily calm.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When Annie told her we moved in with Earl, all she said was she remembered him from when she was in school. Then she went to dress for work,” I say. “But I figured out why she hoards.”

  “Oh?”

  “Remember in her diary when she went to the prop room with my father? How she felt comfortable among all the clutter? She’s recreated her own prop room.”

  “That’s so sad, Neruda.”

  “Yeah,” I sigh. “It is.”

  Epilogue

  "Daring Enough to Finish"

  Face that lights my face, you spin

  intelligence into these particles

  I am. Your wind shivers my tree.

  My mouth tastes sweet with your name

  in it. You make my dance daring enough

  to finish. No more timidity! Let

  fruit fall and wind turn my roots up

  in the air, done with patient waiting.