problems fitting in at school. Marion half suspected that the reason why her mom had been so insistent that her daughter go to therapy was she was worried that the school counselor would call Social Services. If anybody started sniffing around their home life the jig would be up. When the loser her mom had married found out about the therapy sessions, he was beaming. It was like Christmas had come early for her dear old stepdad. Her stepdad was chomping at the bit to tell anybody who’d listen about how his poor stepdaughter was in therapy. This was a time, of course, when her mom and stepdad still had friends and attended parties. This was before the drinking made them completely unsociable to anyone but each other. “We’re all very worried about her.” He’d say, and when he said it he would have the biggest grin ever on his face. Because it meant that all the shit he had done to her was now completely justified. She was officially crazy.
The psychiatrist, of course, turned out to be a real creep. She remembered he was a guy by the name of Dr. Light. She wished she could forget the rest.
The first question out of the good doctor’s mouth was “How many times a day do you masturbate?”
“I really don’t feel comfortable talking about that,” Marion answered.
Instead of the just letting it go, the doctor pressed “Oh come on. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. You must have heard some of the other girls at school talking about it— maybe in the locker room?”
Marion again made it clear that she did not want to talk about this. The doctor, being a mature adult, got pissed off.
“Hey it’s perfectly natural. I talk to my daughter about this all the time!”
Marion stared at the doctor in complete disbelief.
“It’s perfectly natural,” he repeated, “And it feels so good. Do you know how to do it?”
Marion didn’t answer. She only silently thanked God that she was wearing her jeans today, and not the dress her mom wanted her to wear.
The doctor leaned back in his chair. He silently eyed her up and down, focusing especially on her chest. Marion skin crawled. She wished she wore something other than a T-shirt.
The doctor shook his head, then he reached into a desk drawer. Marion heard a pop from a tape recorder. The stop button probably, she thought. The doctor sat silently for some time. Suddenly, he slammed the desk drawer shut as loud as he could.
“Okay, okay...” He repeated over and over again. Marion could hear his labored breath, and saw the angry flush in his cheeks. The doctor was trying to put on his normal face again. The one he showed to polite society. Finally he said “I think this was a good start. Hope I didn’t shock you too much, but we need to break down some barriers. We need to strip you bare, so to speak, so I can get close to the real you. Know what I mean?”
Marion nodded. God, she thought, her mom sure knew how to pick them.
“Could you ask your mom to step in her for a moment? I’d like to talk to her.”
Marion was out of the door in a flash. Though, quick as she was, she could still feel the doctor’s eyes staring at her ass as she left.
Marion waited in the reception area. She didn’t have to wait long. Her mom stormed out of the office. “Come on! We’re leaving!”
They left.
“You won’t be going by him anymore.” Her mom said. Her village accent was really thick as she spoke, which usually meant she was upset.
Marion didn’t press. Her mom never told her daughter what the doctor had said.
They never filed a complaint. Who was going to believe a couple of Indians, one who was a drunk and the other was officially crazy.
Stepdad, being three sheets to the wind, didn’t take the news well. Instead he threw a temper tantrum.
“I want her to go to therapy!” He screamed. He screamed it again and again, to the point where tears ran down his checks. He screamed so much that his words started to dwindle to the point where he just kept screaming “THERAPY!” over and over again.
Surprisingly, her mom wouldn’t back down. It was one of the few times that Marion was really proud of her.
Stepdad screamed until his voice went raw. When he realized that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with his wife, he stormed out of the room. Marion and her mom heard him throwing things around in the garage. Both were disgusted, and remained so until they heard James sobbing. Then they were afraid.
The thing that had set Marion off today was that she had met the current bane of her existence at the grocery store.
There was a potluck at work on Monday. Perhaps it was a bit ill-timed as Thanksgiving was on Thursday, but as Gail explained the staff liked to get together at least once a month to celebrated birthdays. Gail hadn’t really spoken to her after the incident with the power cords. When Gail did speak, it was in very matter of fact and to the point. Gail had gone from the bubbly nice boss, and had now become cold and distance.
Marion decided she would make fish spread for the potluck. Her fish supply was dwindling rapidity, and there were more empty jars of salmon on her counter than fresh ones. Still, she thought she would be okay. With the potluck on Monday and Thanksgiving on Thursday she would be a stuffed turkey by the end of the week. She also wanted to make a good impression. Everyone back in the village always said her fish spread was the best. She would see on Monday if the white people agreed, and be devastated if they didn’t.
She had to go to the store to get a few things, probably three boxes of pilot bread. That hurt. Pilot bread wasn’t exactly cheap, and her dwindling finances didn’t exactly help. Her job with Workers Compensation did pay well, but they seemed to have a very laid back attitude when it came to paychecks. Marion missed being paid every other Friday as she had been at her retail job.
Gail had given her a calendar that showed all the holidays, and paydays. Marion’s heart sank. She was essentially being paid once a month, and there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the day she was paid. To add insult to injury, her first paycheck had been short. Since she was hired at the tail end of a pay period she had only been paid for a week’s worth of work. She had no idea how she was going to make it.
If there was one thing Marion hated more than anything in the world, it was going to the grocery store. The grocery store was the most boring place on earth. Funny thing about it was, she could spend an entire Sunday at the record store and not bat so much as an eye. But, if she had to spend more than half an hour shopping, she would go insane (or more insane as Marion would correctly point out).
Her mom had been the complete opposite. Her mom loved shopping at the grocery store with her whole heart. Mom Morrison could spend a good two or three hours wandering around the aisles and only be about halfway done with her grocery list.
When she was a kid, Marion could never figure out why her mom was always shopping since she and her brother usually ended up throwing out most of the stuff their mom bought. The “Penicillin Fridge” was what her brother called it. The name was apt. The fridge was jammed full to the point where you couldn’t even open the door without something falling out. Every time she or James would reach into the fridge to get something to eat, something else was starting to grow mold.
One Saturday in particular stood out in Marion’s mind when her mom’s obsession was in full swing. Marion had been roped into going to the store, for what she was assured would be a “quick trip.” Three stores and six hours later, Marion was ready to punch her mom in the face. Looking back on that now, Marion thought she understood. Her mom came from a time when a wife did not work. That was especially true in the village. Grocery shopping was just an excuse for her mom to get out of the house. She didn’t blame her mom, considering what waited for them back at home. Everyone needs a hobby. James spent his Saturdays hanging out with his friends. Marion—having no friends—hung out with her mom. Her mom liked to shop, and tortured her daughter by making her tag along. No one ever wanted to go home.
So it was that Marion grew up navigating the grocery stores of Seattle. As such, the grocery store
s in Alaska presented no challenge whatsoever. She raced down the aisle, gathering the few items she needed, and was at the checkout line in less than ten minutes. The clerk began to ring up her items.
“Is this for the potluck?” A voice behind her asked. Marion didn’t need to turn around to see who the voice belonged too. Marion couldn’t believe her bad luck. Valerie had an almost supernatural ability to pop up at the worst possible times. And when Valerie was around, it was always the worst time.
“Oh, honey I think you’re a little mixed up,” Val raved. “Nobody is going to want to eat this shit. It’s just going to make them sick. I mean look at these crackers. These are too big. I think only old people eat these.”
God damn why can’t the clerk just hurry up, Marion thought. The clerk, however, being a typical teenage boy was staring at Val’s enormous boobs. Again, Marion wondered how someone so small could have such big boobs. In fact they actually looked bigger than before. It was unnatural.
“Maybe retards too, I guess,” Val continued raving. “They are too stupid to know any better...”
Mercifully, the clerk put the last box of pilot bread into a bag.
“If you want to make a fool of yourself go right ahead,” Val cheerfully added.
The clerk rang up the total. Shit, she was about three dollars short.
“Can you put one of the boxes of
Accident Prone: A Novel Page 9
