Rosalind and I had a nice conversation on the way home today. I think she was relieved to have something to discuss besides her troubles, and she happily gave me her perspective on Niall. She asked to play this cassette he had given her of Tarkus, and I told her that it might cause me to drive off the road and that, further, she was never to play it in our home without headphones or mention the subject to me again. I could almost see her filing Tarkus away in the “ammunition” file. I am sure she’ll be saving it up for a really choice moment. In any case, this appeared to put her in a good mood.
Since things were going well, I decided not to try to bug Rosalind about her grades. I remain very concerned about this, but I do feel like she is making progress in other life areas, and I don’t want to mess it up by getting on her back.
I also want to try to have some sort of relationship with Dad, and I have agreed in principle to put my anger about the past aside, but as I sit here tonight, I wonder if I can do it. I guess we will find out.
Any word from Kimberley? (You knew I was going to ask, so there it is.)
—Sean
Dear Fluffy:
I am back. Niall is hilarious. We spent a long time walking around the neighborhood with Sean being all like “this is where my mom did this, and this is where my mom did that,” and he was bumming me out because of course as long as we are on the subject of dead moms, I have two, and I have been doing better and didn’t want to get sad right then and even Sean was kind of getting that misty look like he gets watching sappy commercials or whatever. (This was after we walked all over Penn and Sean was all like, look how good college is, of course you need good grades to get in here, blah blah blah like he is being slick or like I’m going to start doing math homework because I saw where dumb kids in sweatshirts eat bad food.)
So I was getting bummed out about even just being there, it started to feel totally unreal, like who the hell am I and why am I walking around Philadelphia with this guy I didn’t even know on my last birthday getting this family history lesson about some family I don’t even feel like a part of. I started getting all sad and quiet, all just get me home to my room so I can forget about why I’m here, and then Niall starts in with all these stories about here’s where this girl lived who tried to cut my dick off when she found me with her sister, here’s where I sold weed to the guy who’s now the junior senator from a certain state, and stuff like this.
Anyway, it made me forget for a while and actually was pretty entertaining. So then we drove home and Sean and me were talking and I totally thought we were going to hear now don’t end up like him, blah blah blah, but it was just much more normal and he was like telling me about how he was still mad which was kind of weird I guess but it wasn’t like he wanted me to pat him on the back, it was like he just wanted me to listen which was kind of weird but at the same time it was nice to hear something from him besides you need to shape up blah blah or when my mom died blah blah, and then we just talked about normal stuff and so that was okay.
IM from Rosalind90
Rosalind90: K8! R U THERE?
Redchordfan03: K8 IS IN THE HOUSE. WHERE R U?
Rosalind90: ALSO IN THE HOUSE. BACK FROM PHILLY. MET DONORBOY’S DAD, MY GRAMPS I GUESS
Redchordfan03: EVIL STONER?
Rosalind90: I LIKED HIM. WAY LESS UPTITE THAN DONORBOY. REALLY FUNNY & HAS LOTS OF FUNNY STORIES ABOUT DEALING WEED TO STUDENTS WHO LATER BECAME SENATORS AND STUFF.
Redchordfan03: COOL. I CALLED JEN.
Rosalind90: AND?
Redchordfan03: SHE IS FINE. I TOLD HER CARSTEN IS A CREEP, SHE WAS ALL HE CARES ABOUT ME, U DON’T, HANG OUT W/YR GOODY GOODY FRIEND THEN, ETC.
Rosalind90: WHAT A BITCH! WEIRD SHE WAS SO NICE TO ME B4.
Redchordfan03: YEAH SHE WAS NICE 2 ME 4 LIKE 9 YRS.
Rosalind90: SORRY.
Redchordfan03: MAKES ME SAD
Rosalind90: ME2.
Redchordfan03: HEY GOOD NEWS THO
Rosalind90:?
Redchordfan03: DON’T B MAD BUT I GAVE YR POEM 2 MY CUZ & HE LOVES IT & WANTS 2 MAKE A CSRA SONG FROM IT. HOPE ITS OK.
Rosalind90: YEAH! HOPE ITS BETTER THAN THAT SATANS PLAYPEN SONG.
Redchordfan03: BETTER LYRICS ANYWAY
Rosalind90: WANNA GET COFFEE 2MORROW?
Redchordfan03: OK BUT NO DINER.
Rosalind90: COOL. CU 2MORROW.
Redchordfan03: OK BYE.
Dear Fluffy:
Back from school. Kate told me Jen actually called me a “goody goody dyke bitch,” and I can’t believe that because I thought she was cool, or maybe I can’t believe I thought she was cool, I don’t know, but I didn’t know what to say because I don’t know if it’s a lie, I mean I might or might not be both of those things so I was like that’s so mean just because of my moms and Kate was like yeah and that was like it.
So, Fluffy, believe it or not I have actually been thinking about my bliss since talking to Niall and I don’t know what it is, except I am pretty sure it’s not math homework. I like to cook but I don’t know if that’s my bliss or not. Apparently I am a metal songwriter now, which I actually went and told Sean because I was excited because it’s my stuff but also because the cute guy will know my name. I left that part out when I talked to Sean, but he was like all enthusiastic, that’s great, you could be the metal Robert Hunter and I was like who the hell is that and he said there was some famous hippie stoner band where this guy who wasn’t in the band wrote songs. I think the Grateful Dead would be a way better metal name but Sean says they play like stoner country blues or something.
So maybe mistress of metal is my bliss. Maybe being a goody goody bitch is my bliss, but then that would mean math homework, so maybe not. BTW I also gave “Girl in a Cage” to Westerberg for like extra credit or whatever but also because I guess I want somebody grown up to like it and he said he would read it tonight and let me know.
I don’t know, Fluffy, I don’t know exactly what to do or anything, but I did actually do my history homework tonight because it is not my bliss but sucks less than math and I guess if stupid Jen is going to call me a goody goody bitch I should try to live up to it.
I know she called me a dyke too and I don’t know if I should try to live up to that or not. I am bored of thinking about it, bored of worrying about it but for some reason being bored of it doesn’t actually make it stop. Oh well.
Christmas is coming up, like every store me and Kate went to today was totally Christmas with the songs playing and the dancing santas and the little bendy santas which Kate stole two and gave me one so I guess I am an accessory to a crime, ha ha. I used to love it so much and now I don’t even want it to be Christmas because I am trying not to think about it but it will be a lot of time around the house with nothing to think about but being sad and stupid it’s a wonderful life, Zuzu, kids, and George Bailey the richest man in town which Mom always watched and cried and I don’t want to have a stupid holiday and be sad or worse yet go there there for Karen even though if she asks me I don’t know how I’m going to say no way.
Maybe I should take like a voke cooking class or something instead of math. I wonder if they let you do that. I don’t know what my bliss is but sleep is looking good right now.
Dear Sean and Rosalind,
I really enjoyed seeing you. I said I would write, so I am writing. I am not sure what I should say, though, except that really was the best weekend I have had in a long time.
Sean—I meant what I said about you being an old soul and me being a young one. But I think I probably should have done more to make you want to hang around with me. You did well without my help, but, for what it’s worth, I am sorry I didn’t do more.
Rosalind—I could tell from Sean’s getting that disapproving look every time you laughed at one of my stories that he was afraid you would follow me into the erstwhile family business so that you too could have humorous adventures. I think you’ve got more sense than me (or probably Sean either)—you seem like a very old soul to me�
��but I guess I should balance out what I said with the fact that one of the reasons I got out of it was that it got too dangerous. I can laugh about getting shot at now, but at the time I soiled myself which was a detail I omitted from the funny version.
The novel is almost finished Some kid who used to come in the bar every night when he was at Penn is some kind of literary agent now, so I’m going to send it off to him and see what happens.
I will see you in a couple weeks. Until then, take it easy on each other.
—Niall Cassidy, Famous Stoner Grandfather
Dear Niall,
Sorry about the free restaurant postcard. I will write a real letter soon. I just wanted to tell you that the soiling yourself part actually makes the story funnier. Especially since you say, “soiled myself” instead of, like, “shit my pants” or something. Just for future reference. Also, I have no desire to deal weed.
—Rosalind
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: odds and ends
Hey there. So I have several things to say, and I figured that some of them might make you roll your eyes or generally tune out because of excessive corniness, so I thought I would write you instead.
I’ll start with the corniest part, but stick with me, because it does get less corny. First of all, I had a very nice time this weekend, and I enjoyed our ride home. I think you are probably correct about Niall and his trying to do his best. It’s helpful to me to get the perspective of someone outside the situation.
Also, and prepare to roll your eyes, I am still very happy that you got out of that situation that you probably wisely still refuse to tell me about. My friend Dave is always telling me about how teenagers are supposed to make mistakes and use bad judgment, but this is an instance where you used better judgment than many adults probably would have.
I will add that I know your mothers would have been very proud of you too. Now, before you throw something at the screen (people speaking for the dead has always been one of my pet peeves, especially when people who had no business doing it tried to say something about what my mother would have thought about me), I do have some information to back this up.
Well, I imagine Sandy, from what I knew of her, would have been having some sort of nervous fit such as you have seen me have a few times recently. Eva, though—well, I don’t know if this is something I should tell you or not, but it feels like the right thing to do, so here goes. I sanitized somewhat my story of what Eva told me about her years on Single Dads Club. Something else she told me was that she left acting and Los Angeles and went to dental school because she was terrified of making bad decisions. She did not get too specific, but she said she was “young and stupid and rich,” and that she was “afraid my life was going in a very bad direction.”
So when I say that she would be proud of you, it’s because she also took steps to get herself out of a bad situation, but when she was a full nine years older than you are now. I am admittedly very new to this parenting thing, but I do believe that one thing all parents want is for their children to make better decisions than they did.
All right. On to a totally different subject. We tossed around the idea of your taking that voke cooking class that meets at the same time as your math class. I am not trying to impose this particular brand of bliss on you, but I did decide to explore this possibility. I exchanged e-mails with your math teacher, who appears to be an incredible pain in the ass. In any case, she informed me in the same e-mail that it is “nearly mathematically impossible” for you to pass for the year and that she was “categorically opposed” to your taking another class. Apparently she believes you need to suffer for six more months for your unpardonable sin of not being enthralled by quadratic equations. She assured me that she would “fight such a move every step of the way.”
Call me a lawyer, but this does sound like a challenge to me. I’ll be happy to take it on, but, again, I don’t want to squash this woman just for my own ego gratification. No, that’s a lie. I couldn’t stand her tone and would derive great ego gratification from getting this to happen, but I do recognize that this is ultimately about you and not me. So let me know if this is something you want, and I will make sure you get it. (And should we meet with Dr. Vanian, you could create a bingo card for me with the words “hostile environment” in every square and probably win in about thirty seconds.)
Finally, and I suppose this is another eye-roller, I think you should consider re-joining that peer counseling group. You’ve been through a great deal and appear to be putting it back together, and your pugilistic adventures would surely give you credibility with even the most hardened students. Just a thought.
See you at dinner.
—Sean
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: odds and ends
Sean—I don’t know if I wanted to know that about Mom but it does kind of explain why she never really talked about being on TV and didn’t have any tapes of the show or anything. Anyway, thanks, I guess. I mean, I don’t know. I need to think about it, but I guess you’re right that it’s something that’s good for me to know. Maybe. I swear I can’t picture Mom as some kind of hard partyer who needs to leave town. I am actually not sure I want to. But whatever, I guess she would have told me eventually.
I don’t know if cooking is my bliss either (Niall is such a corndog with that phrase. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, ha-ha) but math class is not. I actually think Ms. Weymouth is okay, but if I can’t possibly pass I guess I’d rather do just about anything else and then do math in summer school. I guess I’d rather cook than cut class and smoke in the bathroom. (That is a joke. Kind of.)
By the way I think I will not be home for dinner if it’s okay. I mean, um, can I go out? Kate is going to see Child Soldiers Run Amok practice in her cousin Jamie’s basement and I guess they are going to do my song, or whatever the song they made from my poem. Like I told you the band is straight edge so caffeine will be the strongest thing there. And it’s at 85 Boylston Street right here in Charlesborough, and Jamie’s mom’s phone number is 617-555-1824 if you really want to call and embarrass me, but just please don’t talk about Metallica with anybody. Kate says they will get pizza or something so I will get fed and I will be home by 8.
—Rosalind
New text message!
From: Sean
3:43 pm
U R THE HI PRIESTESS OF METAL. GO & HAVE FUN. I DID CALL BUT SAID ZIP ABOUT METALLICA.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Hello?
Rosalind—Since you have not been answering my phone calls or returning my voice mails, I thought I should try e-mail. I hope that you are just busy and happy doing teenager things, but I am concerned about you and would appreciate it if you would check in. I know that Thanksgiving was tough, and that holidays in general are going to be tough for a while. I understand if talking to me pulls you back into that mindset, but I would really appreciate an e-mail telling me that you are all right. Or, if you are not all right, an email telling me that Lisa is helping you and that you are not making bad choices.
I feel an obligation to your moms to keep up with you, but, more than that, you are important to me. I was thinking maybe we could go out to dinner sometime this week—I will spring for something fancy, and I will promise not to cry. What do you say?
—Karen
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: My big weekend
Hey. I don’t have anything to tell you about your old man. As you know, my relationship with my own is not in the greatest shape, so I will just say I feel your pain on this issue and leave it at that.
But you don’t really give a shit what I say about that, because you gave the game away with your little “offhand” question about Kimberley. I swear to God, I’ve kn
own you for fifteen years and you think you can fool me with something that lame?
Okay, so Allie told me that Kimberley called her and said that you “give good e-mail,” which somehow feels more disgusting than it actually is. And Allie says she thinks Kimberley has a crush on you. There. Happy? “Gives good e-mail.” Jesus. If I get out of this without puking, it will be some kind of miracle.
By the way, Kimberley arrives in thirty-two days, if you want to start making little x’s on your little calendar.
—Dave
Dear Fluffy,
I have actually been too busy to write, which I guess is good. I went with Kate to Child Soldiers Run Amok practice, and it was kind of embarrassing because they were all telling me how much they like my lyrics or whatever, and the cute lead singer was like, oh, you are so talented, how long have you been writing, blah blah, and I had to make something up because I didn’t want to be like I used to write a lot of poems in middle school but I haven’t written anything in six months but I still pulled out something better than Satan’s Playpen.
So then Kate and I sat there like these total groupies which I guess we are except for without the having sex with the band part and they played a bunch of songs including “Satan’s Playpen” and “Girl in a Cage” which totally rocks if I do say so myself. Not that I had anything to do with the rocking part, but I felt really proud and excited and kind of happy even though Ash the lead singer was paying way more attention to Kate than me which okay she is two years older and way better looking and actually has boobs but is not the high priestess of metal which is what Sean called me.
But anyway, it was fun. I talked to Lisa the next day and she was like this is so good for you, and I was kind of like did you hear the part about how I was all jealous of my best friend, but she was like, well, you have something else that you can call your own besides your grief.
Donorboy Page 14
