Signal to Noise(67)

“You be good, alright?”

“Dad?” Meche said, watching him head towards the staircase. “Daddy?”

“Get inside!”

Meche turned around. Her mother’s eyes were narrowed, her face was as hard as rock; no signs of weakness.

“He’s really going?”

“We are getting a divorce.”

“Why?”

“You don’t need to hear the reasons. Get inside.”





SHE MANAGED TO avoid Sebastian for a good number of days, but Friday, when Meche was crossing the street, she felt hands wrap around her waist and Sebastian lifted her, spinning her around.

“Put me down, please?” she demanded.

“Are you going to skip school with me today?” he asked.

“No.”

He set her down with a frown.

“Why not?”

Meche looked at her sweater’s cuffs, pulling at a little thread and shrugging.

“I don’t feel like it.”

“I’ve got a bag of chips and several cans of soda.”

“Oh my God, it’s my teenage dream,” she said, squealing with mock enthusiasm.

“Well, I dunno. You’ve been mopey all week.”

“So an overdose of salt and carbonated beverages will cure me?”

“It’s all I’ve got. Oh, and a record from Hombres G. What do you say?”

She wanted to wallow in private. Plus, if she kept skipping school the principal was going to phone her mom. But then... it might be fun. Meche weighed the negatives against the chance to get a sugar high and ended up sighing.

“Okay.”





MECHE AND SEBASTIAN were hanging out in the factory. They lay on the floor, their feet resting against the wall and little bits of potato chips littering the space around them. The sky was purple like a bruise. They would have to light candles if they wanted to remain into the evening.

“My parents are getting a divorce.”

Sebastian put down the book he had been reading and turned his head to look at her.

“I didn’t know. When did this happen?”

“Few days ago. Just took his clothes and left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked.

“Because if I told you, you’d tell Daniela and then Daniela would bake cupcakes to make me feel better. And if I told her, she’d tell you and we’d end up having a heartfelt discussion about it. Which is totally not what I want. I mean, I don’t even know why they’re getting divorced.”

“But is it serious? Maybe they’re just having a fight.”

“My mom changed the lock to our apartment so my dad can’t get back in.”

He stretched a hand and caught a stray chip which had fallen on his shirt, popping it into his mouth.

“What does your dad say?”

“He called yesterday to give me his temporary address and to say he’s seeing about a new job in Puerto Vallarta.”

“You think he’ll get it?”

“I don’t know.”

Sebastian found another chip, trapped in the cuff of his shirt and held it up, staring at it. He was glad when his parents divorced. Their separation ended his father’s beatings, but Meche’s dad did not beat her and he was always nice to Sebastian when he went by the apartment.

“The worst part is my mom is getting totally overbearing. Like we couldn’t meet at my place today because then she’d flip out.”

“Why?” Sebastian asked, frowning.

“Because she’s nuts. She has this fixation; thinks you’re my ‘secret’ boyfriend. Right now, she’d probably imagine we are totally making out. It’s gross.”

Sebastian frowned. “I’m gross?”

“No, you dummy. My mother’s bizarre nightmares about teenagers making out are gross.”

Sebastian tucked an arm behind his head, deep in thought.

“So what you’re saying is making out with me would not be gross?”

Meche turned her head and raised an eyebrow at him, with that come-again-* look she sometimes sported when a random construction worker yelled an inappropriate comment at her.

“Do I need to answer that one?”

“Yeah. Bad question.”





EIGHT O’CLOCK AND all hell was about to break loose. Since Vicente had moved out, Meche’s mother had apparently decided she would quarrel with Meche in what Meche could only imagine was supposed to be a display of motherly concern. It smelled more like bullshit than love.

“You think I’m stupid.”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

Meche’s mother looked like her head was about to start spinning like the girl in The Exorcist. In Meche’s experience backing down would be an admission of guilt. She was not going to be bullied into the guilty square. It was not the 17th century and she was tired of getting the Inquisition treatment.

“You skipped school again and you standing here, a complete liar, in front of me.”

Meche crossed her arms and glanced over her mother’s shoulder, at the face of Sting on the wall.

“What were you doing?”

“I wasn’t doing anything.”