Broken Sleep

by Bruce Bauman

  All of this is my backdoor way of sliding up to the first time I met Absurda’s family. I don’t like rehashing it but I got to.

  It was Thanksgiving ’95. We was touring between More and Get Large. Mostly now, those shows merge into one after another after another. It was party time and we loved the audiences. This show in Madison, at the college, was nuthin’ special. After the gig, that’s when things started to get memorable. First, Absurda’s sister Heather, who was a college student, came backstage with like five of her bosomy buddies. Heather is an Absurda knockoff with the same tight body, only shorter and tatt free. She don’t cover her tiny freckles with makeup. Has a bigger, well, chest area. Longish blond hair, unlike Absurda’s, whose is cut asymmetrical sharp at the neckline and in front. Surprise, surprise, one of the girls (not Heather) kept Alchy busy that night. That got Absurda pouty faced as I ever seen her. She never blinked at Alchemy’s carousing before.

  The next day me, Alchemy, Absurda, and Heather drive to Fond du Lac to celebrate the holiday with the Akin clan. Lux and his babe head to Chicago to be with her relatives. Falstaffa and Marty “decline” the invite to Fond du Lac, which was most definitely motivated by a few words from Alchemy. They drive the bus and we’re gonna reconvene in Minneapolis for the next gig.

  Before we get going, I see Absurda in a head-to-head with Alchemy. Later, I inquire if all is copacetic, and she snipes, “Why shouldn’t it be?”

  “No reason.” I’m thinking, but don’t say, If all of youse was coming to meet my clan, I’d be scramming out of town. She persuades me to stay with her in her mom’s house by the lake. Mr. Alchemy gets to lounge in the hotel.

  I’m itching to hear what she’s told them about me. She’d always been slightly cagey when it came to the details of her family. What I picked up over the years is that her dad was a local hockey star. He goes off to college and discovers he’s just another middling jock. So he comes back, knocks up Absurda’s mom, and settles on being a math teach and football coach. Her dad is the town ladies’ man. Her mom, Geez, was Miss Wisconsin Dairy Queen or something. Heather is born after they divorce. Her two older brothers are big blond dudes who look like they were sculpted out of ice.

  We drive to the white two-story house by Lake Winnebago. It’s like finger-freezing cold. Only had my leather jacket. It’s starting to snow, so we hustle inside. Instead of hugs, her brothers greet Absurda by offering her (and us) shots of schnapps, which we take, and they lay out in front of the fireplace playing Styx’s “Too Much Time on My Hands,” for chrissake. Got that right. We’d be meeting the wives and kids at Thanksgiving dinner.

  They act like they last seen Absurda (or Mandy as they insist on calling her) yesterday rather than two years before. Her mom is up in her bedroom. Absurda tucks my hand in hers and pulls me upstairs. Mrs. Akin is sitting up in bed watching CNN, munching American cheese slices and saltines with a glass of red wine by her side. She’s wearing a pink sweater with a silver cat face on the front, pink plastic-framed glasses, and pink sweatpants. She don’t move. Absurda goes and kisses her. Mrs. Akin acts like she’ll get freezer burn if she presses Absurda too close. And Miss Dairy Queen? She must’ve a won a lifetime supply a milk shakes. Still got a cute face, though her skin is a little blotchy.

  Absurda introduces me, and Mrs. Akin nods, a half smile, reaches for my hand, and clasps it way too familiar. “So pleased to meet you, Richard.” No one, I mean no one, has ever called me Richard.

  “Me, too, Mrs. Akin.” I feel like a smarmy doofus in a John Hughes movie.

  “Come downstairs, Mom.”

  “Mandy, is your father here?”

  “No. Why? Is he coming?”

  “He promised to make an appearance. Do you want to call him?”

  “No. I can wait to hear his rhapsodizing about how crime free and pristine life is here, and how grotesque and squalid it is in L.A.”

  The three of us go downstairs, and her brother Jim says to Absurda, “Jody Messerschmitt wants you to call her. Think she’s looking for a reunion of Mandy’s Men and the Big Gulp Girls?”

  Absurda turned, rolling her eyes, toward me. “The Big Gulp Girls was my first band.”

  “And so aptly named,” Jim cracked. I don’t appreciate the fucker’s snide attitude, but I keep quiet ’cause I know that shit goes down between brothers and sisters. We were always slamming my sister Bonnie.

  Her mom turns to Jim and pops him not so gently on the head. “Shut the hell up.” Then she goes and hugs Alchemy, who obviously she has met before. “Mandy is so lucky to have you as a friend.”

  “We are lucky to have met each other.” Alchemy, who been downstairs getting chummy with her brothers, puts his arm around Mrs. Akin and pulls her close like they’re longtime buddies and says, as if he’s confiding a special message to only her, “It’s great to see you, but I’m eager to get to the hotel. I have some ideas I need to work out.” Heather volunteers to drive him. I see Absurda’s displeased with that arrangement, so I interrupt before trouble brews. “I’m gonna go, too. We got to do some reconnoitering.” Absurda decides she’ll join us. The four of us head out.

  Absurda sits in the front seat with Heather. Me and Alchy sit in the back. While we’re driving, Heather imparts the latest news about Mrs. Akin. “Mandy, I should have told you before that Mom is off the diet pills. On Sunday, she and Jimmy’s family went to dinner. She said the waiter insulted her and she started flinging silverware and ashtrays.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Absurda snapped, and then sighed. “Sorry, Heath. You want me to talk to her?”

  “To say what? Just warning you.”

  “Where’s Dad living?”

  Heather makes a swift right turn and we head down a few streets. I can’t see nuthin’.

  “There.” She points to a one-story dump, between two much bigger homes with their Christmas decorations already up. The lights are on and the curtains are drawn. “You want to drop in? Never know what or who we might find.”

  They snickered. Absurda says, “I prefer ignorance.” It spooked me out. This whole damn town spooked me out. Makes sense to me why vampires and werewolves always live in places like this.

  We drop off Alchemy at the hotel, which was still way better than most of the Psycho-like death traps we was crashing in then, and then we head back to the house.

  The next morning I hear Absurda up early, thumping her feet and banging drawers, a sure sign she is in one ugly mood. I stick my head between the pillows and go back to sleep.

  When I get up later, I take time to explore. Her room is painted pink. Some posters of GG Allin, Poly Styrene, and the Runaways on the wall. A photo on a desk with the Big Gulp Girls with socks taped over their nipples and spread over their twats, goofing on the old guys’ trick. Other pics with friends. No guys. I don’t go spying in the drawers. Figured that is not cool. Actually, now I wish I’d done it.

  I head downstairs, and her mom is in the kitchen dressed in white pants and white blouse with a flower print apron over it. She looks slimmer and is taller in high heels. All perfumed and made up thicker than the snow outside. No glasses. Peeling potatoes and fixing the stuffing. The sisters-in-law are making turkeys they’ll bring over later. Mrs. Akin serves me coffee and rolls and scrambles up some eggs and bacon. I don’t see Absurda, so I ask where she’s at.

  “I was out early this morning, and when I got in I found a note saying she went to meet Jody. I invited her for dinner. She was Mandy’s partner in crime when they were teenagers.”

  “She coming? I’d like to meet her.”

  “Doubt it. Mandy’s close friends are afraid she thinks she’s too good for them, being such a star. You are almost stars. It’s funny.” She shook her head in disbelief. She puts the egg plate down and scopes me out. “You look like maybe you can handle her.”

  “Whataya mean?” I ask.

  “Mandy can be difficult. She’s like me that way.”

  “I never found her difficult. We get along supe
r.”

  “Lucky you. If she ever gets out of line, you give her a good swat.” She tosses that out like she’s advising me to buy candies instead of slug her daughter.

  Suddenly, appearing at the kitchen door like Scotty beamed her down and all bundled up in a green parka is Absurda. She takes off the jacket and unwraps her scarf. “That’s not Ricky’s style.” She pours herself a cup a coffee. “Mother, I always treasured your advice. You know, since you’ve done so well with men.”

  “Mandy, honey, what are you up to now? I thought you’d at least get to fifty, sixty, even seventy before you found someone.”

  “As usual, you thought wrong.”

  Mrs. Akin turns to me with a toothy grin. “People always thought we were sisters.”

  “People are phonies. I found someone who respects me enough not to hit me or cheat.”

  “How do you know?”

  Both sets of eyes now zoom in on me. I was going to defend her (and me). But Absurda needs no defending. “He hasn’t and he won’t.” I realize I’m just a spectator in this sport. “Because you had a child with a man doesn’t mean you found a real partner.”

  “I did the best I could, given the material.”

  “Mom, you could’ve left Dad sooner. Left town. It doesn’t take long to discover the gene pool here is severely limited.”

  “You certainly did more than your share of pool sampling before you came to that decision.”

  “Don’t know ’til you try. So, okay, I dated everyone worth dating in this town—and that isn’t saying much—since I eliminated anyone whose father you’d dated.”

  “Dear, don’t believe everything you hear.”

  “It’d be wonderful if you’d do the same for me.”

  “Oh, Mandy, let’s stop. Can we?”

  “I can.”

  “Will you help me today? Your sisters-in-law will be here soon. I could use your help. Heather is out with friends. It’s her vacation so I gave her a pass.”

  I move some chairs and tables around in the dining room and then I’m assigned Alchemy pickup duty. I’m thrilled to get the hell out of Bicker Central Station.

  The town has one main street. I think there was more people crammed into my block in Flushin’ than in that entire county. Everything is closed. Most of the signs are either for wedding and baby shit or For Rent.

  Alchemy’s room has a bed and dresser from like 1800 an’ a new TV, which is tuned to the Lions game. When I take a leak, I see a pair of pink socks on the floor by the bathroom. I kick ’em out with my boot. “What’s these?”

  “I was uncovered” (even then he registered under aliases, that night he used Marv Throneberry), “so I entertained her.”

  This time, I got no wish to know more, so I switch topics. “I kind of wish Lux had come. This place is so fucking vanilla.”

  “What? I’m too bland for you?”

  “You? You’re whatever people want you to be.” Which I heard was one of his superpowers. Salome was as white as Fond du Lac snow. His father, who the fuck knows?

  “What I am is Absurda’s friend. She needs us. And you haven’t met her father yet.”

  “You met him?”

  “Once. The family came to New York to visit Absurda at Juilliard. We should get moving.”

  There were twenty or twenty-five guests at dinner. Don’t ask me no names. I didn’t care enough to memorize who was who. Jody ain’t showing up. None of Absurda’s friends is showing.

  Some local gawkers knock on the front door ’cause they found out we was there. More had just gone gold. That’s not as big as it sounds. Later all our records went multiplatinum. We sign CDs, T-shirts, and stuff. Part of me wished we had played a gig. Given those blandheads some razzle-dazzle and showed them what Absurda could do.

  Mr. Akin arrives late. Right away I see this surly motherfucker owns a pair of ornery eyes and mean lips.

  Absurda got up to greet him. They act nervous. They don’t sit next to each other at dinner. Most of the blah blah is about sports, the weather, local gossip. Alchemy as usual is talking politics. That might’ve been the first time I hear the name Louise Urban Vulter, who’s gonna be Alchy’s political rival in about fifteen, twenty years. She was just starting out doing her talk radio show.

  The little demon known as alcohol is getting the crowd louder, and Mr. Akin is slightly riled up. He hollers across the table so everybody is listening in on this exchange.

  “Mandy, my princess, what’s it like to travel the country and be famous?”

  “Better than being here.”

  “You always thought you were too good for this place.”

  “No, I was too bad.” She laughed and so did most of the guests. “Dad, you should come visit me in L.A. You might change your mind.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “I’d like that.”

  That seemed to end it. After the main course and before dessert we go into the living room. Mr. Akin comes up beside me and says real low, “I can still eat punks like you for lunch.”

  “Figures you like to eat dick.” I flick him with my fuck finger and turn away. From behind he grabs my wrist and tries to pulverize it. Coaches. Hate ’em. I says, “I promised Absurda I’d behave. It’d take me one second to misbehave. So if you want to go, you keep holding on and we’ll see who goes down.”

  Alchemy slides over and he grabs both our wrists. Mr. Akin releases his grip.

  “Ambitious, back off.” Which I do.

  “I don’t want no trouble,” I says, not really meaning it. Alchy and Akin step out to the enclosed back porch and have a smoke. Mr. Akin don’t look at me again.

  After dessert and some folks are leaving, Absurda nudges me. “Hey, all,” she lets everyone know, “we’re going for a ride by the lake.”

  Only we don’t go by no lake. We drive to her dad’s house. Door is unlocked. A bunch of half-busted trophies is laying on the stinky living room rugs. She walks into his bedroom. We do a few quick lines. Then she starts undressing.

  “Fuck me on this bed.”

  Sounds appetizing to me. The asshole has already enemized me.

  We are pumping away and just as I’m about to blow my wad, she feels it and she pushes me off her. I come all over his sheets. She takes his pillow between her legs and wipes it with her juice. She gets her lipstick and draws a heart on the pillow and inside writes “mandy & ricky” and tosses it on his bed.

  I was impressed by her well-planned vendetta. On the ride back, one thing is rankling me. “Did he ever touch, like sexy, touch you?”

  “Never. If he had, I would’ve done more than come in his bed.”

  The last few folks is getting ready to leave when we get back. Her father is waiting and asks, “Nice ride?”

  No doubt everyone believes we got high.

  “Great ride.” We look away from each other so we don’t crack up.

  Mellowed by the food and drink, everything seems calm. Even Mr. Gym Teacher, who puts his arm around Absurda. “I was just waiting for you to get back to say a proper goodbye. Mandy, my princess,” he says that again, not quite sounding sarcastic, “it’s time for me to return to my present, less than palatial home.”

  There’s hugs and fake kisses all around as everybody leaves except brother Jeff (who came in his own car), Alchy, Heather, Absurda, and Mrs. Akin.

  I’m curious if Mr. Akin will be sober enough to guess what we done.

  Twenty minutes later, while we’re cleaning up, we find out. I hear a car door slam, and in flies Akin. Not even wearing a coat, with the pillowcase in his hand, foaming at the mouth. He lunges straight toward Absurda. “You’re a sick, perverted bitch.”

  “I’m sick? What do you call fucking Jenny Heckendorf in my bed when we were sixteen?”

  Then Mrs. Akin slaps Mr. Akin across the face. “Get out. Get out the hell out of my house.” Me and Alchemy are on either side of him. Akin surveys that this is not the appropriate moment to prove his manhood, so he flings the pillowcase at Absu
rda. It flutters over and she catches it. “Souvenir of my trip home.” I see in her eyes she wants to fold up and cry just like a little girl.

  We, well, Absurda, decides we should leave the next night instead of Sunday, so we rent a car. As we’re standing outside, finishing packing the trunk, it’s so freaking frigid I’d’ve drunk blood to warm me up, Absurda collars Alchemy and me in the driveway. “Keep reminding me of this disaster if I start to go all mawkish about my childhood.” She tilts her head toward the sky. She’s shivering, so I take off the Green Bay Packers knit cap that her brother Jimmy give me. “Here.” I pull it down over her hair and ears. I put my arms around her. She whispers as the wind is whipping off the lake, “The next time I come back here, it will be for their funerals.”

  27

  THE CANTICLES OF HANNAH, III (2001–2002)

  Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

  No one could miss hearing Hannah’s ecstatic cry of “Thank God!” when Dr. Fielding pronounced that her son would live. The doctors refused to speculate for how long, but no oncologist would have bet on Moses’s thriving for another twenty years.

  Yet beneath Hannah’s outward glow, the armor of her perfectly coiffed hair and meticulous outfits, hovered the penumbra cast by the unspoken volumes between her and Moses. She blessed each day that Moses survived, and yet, in the darkest circle of her hell danced the shadow of Salome. Hannah compiled a lawyerly list of reasons why she should not talk to Moses about her: His recovery was taking so long; the doctors had warned them that the process was arduous and that he’d be frail for a year, maybe more. He was weaker than before the operation.

  Hannah had lured Jay into playing go-between. Jay did her best to reassure Hannah, who visibly winced at the utterance of the name Salome: Moses had zero intention of coming face-to-face with Salome anytime soon. Moses said he wouldn’t make any decision about Teumer until he’s, and she quoted him, “ ‘regained a semblance of physical and emotional fortitude.’ ”

  Jay’s words only temporarily mollified Hannah. They did nothing to end the odyssey of hushed histories between mother and son.