The Memory Book(68)

Now Coop hasn’t responded to my messages in four days Except to say “maybe you should be with your family and your boyfriend and think about things”

Stuart needs some space, he told me

I don’t need any space from anyone

I just need Coop to say something to me

Anything to me

Even if it’s just good-bye





BIG WORLD


Had a couple of blank days. Just wandering around, muttering. I don’t know how to tell the difference between NPC and just pure sadness. The lack of getting out of bed is the same. The heavy white space of my brain is the same. So is waking up in the middle of the night, wondering what’s happening, what went wrong.

Mom and Dad tell me I should forget about Coop and Stuart for now, both of them, and be positive. Coop would be back, they tell me. They also said that neither of them, nor anyone for that matter, could have “fully realized what I was going through.” I did, though. I knew what I was doing and wanted to do and felt all those things. Maybe I knew all along that I was trying to speed up before I slowed down.

I just didn’t know that slowing down would feel so good. I also didn’t know how much it would hurt. Or maybe I did know and I just did it anyway.

Now Mom and Dad stay home from work.

I recorded them talking at dinner the other night, after everyone else had gone to sleep. They were telling me about how they met.





MARK MCCOY, 45, AND GIA TURLOTTE MCCOY, 42, TRANSCRIBED AUDIO RECORDING:


Mom: We were working at the ski resort after high school graduation. Dad went to West Leb, I went to Hanover.

Dad: And there was this five-star cutie running the coffee stand.

Mom: And you didn’t even drink coffee!

Dad: I started that summer just to have an excuse to talk to (makes rainbow hand motion) Gia.

Mom: Anyway…

Dad: So. We’re crazy about each other. Can’t get enough. We move to New York City after six months. Guess what I wanted to be? Sammie will never guess.

Mom: I’m actually curious if you’ll guess this, Sammie. Not a city maintenance guy.

Sammie: A clown?

Mom: What? Ew.

Sammie: Just tell me.

Dad: I wanted to be (makes air guitar strum) a punk rocker. I even lived in Brooklyn, back when it was cheap and dirty.

Mom: So I moved there with him shortly after but the city is cruel and we could never stay long in one borough, let alone one apartment, for one reason or another. We didn’t have real jobs and we weren’t sure we wanted them.

Sammie: But living in New York together must have been fun.

Mom: Mmm. We were always so sad. And when we got sad we were too dependent on each other.

Dad: And then that cat ran away.

Mom: Our buffer cat.

Sammie: What?

Mom: We found a sweet little cat and gave it milk and whenever one of us was mad at the other we would find the cat and give it to the other as a peace offering.

Dad: It was an ugly feral cat. Let’s be real.

Mom: But it always worked to calm either of us down.

Dad: That buffer cat was our only friend. We couldn’t find a real community. We ended up hating it there because we hated the selves we had turned into.

Mom (in a fake punk rocker voice): Smokin’, drinkin’, stealin’ records.

Dad: Your mom worked in a movie theater and we used to steal popcorn from the concession stand for dinner.

Mom: I stole the popcorn.

Dad: Yes, yes, Gia stole the popcorn.

Mom: Anyway, we had this huge fight. Like a massive, massive fight. I still can’t believe it.

Sammie: What was it about?

Dad: Hmmm, nothing.

Mom: I can’t remember, either.

Dad: And the cat was nowhere to be found.

Mom: Oh god, Sammie, your dad looked everywhere for that thing. He was gone for three days straight, only coming home for some food, and then he’d be back out again.

Dad: And the worst part about it was the cat had no name. So I was just yelling, “Kitty! Kitty!” hoping it would come out.

Sammie: Why didn’t you name it?

Mom: You know what I think?

Dad: What? I’d actually be curious to hear that.

Mom: I think we secretly didn’t name it because we knew it wasn’t ours. Like we didn’t want it to be ours, because that meant we were there permanently.

Dad: All I know is… (eyes well up) Sammie: Aw, Dad!

Dad: That stupid cat made me realize that I wanted to marry Mom. And that I wanted to have children with her. You know, out on the streets of Brooklyn for three days, and you ask yourself, what are you doing here? And you realize… (sniffs) Mom: He just wanted someone to love. People to care for.

Sammie: So you came back?

Mom: He wrote a lot of songs about that cat.

Sammie: I want to hear Dad’s punk rock songs.

Dad (composing himself): So anyway, we came back and settled here, among familiar faces.

Sammie: Wait, wait, going back. Is that why you named Puppy just Puppy?

Dad (buries his face in Puppy’s fur): Yuuuusss.

Mom: Let’s see… when we got back and moved into this place, Cooper’s mom and dad were here, and Father Frank was just Frank, he hadn’t gone to seminary school yet, and Mrs. T was working at a preschool actually…

Sammie: Mrs. T?!