The You I've Never Known(11)
Zelda, and why exactly then?
I wish I could figure out the rules to Dad’s confounding games.
What I do know is if you call him on his bullshit, first thing he does is deny he ever said it in the first place. If that doesn’t work, he’ll swear you misunderstood. And if you still hold your ground, he’ll go all-out verbal attack, doing his best to
convince you that you’re victimizing him. If you don’t back off then, things can progress quickly to physical
violence. I learned the hard way
to zip it sooner rather than later.
But Then Comes
The inevitable apology, and it’s always so sincere there’s no possible way not to forgive him.
He swears everything he does, he does for me, and how can I not
believe him, when
he loves me more
than life itself—
another regular vow.
Up to a point,
I understand where his cruel streak began.
As a soldier, he saw things that, God willing, I’ll never see— flesh-chewed corpses and people left living, but missing limbs
or lacking intact brains.
So, yeah, I cut him a lot of slack, and anyway, he’s been around the block a time or two, as the saying goes. He knows things I’ve yet to learn, so I listen to his advice, even when it confuses me.
Omelet Finished
We’re still sitting outside
in my pj’s, warmed by tepid
October sunshine,
when Garrett and Keith
go chug-chugging by,
headed toward town.
Garrett honks, Keith opens
his window long enough to
give us the finger, and Syrah
says, Hell yeah! Now I can say those assholes saw me in lingerie.
I still have a chance at popularity.
That cracks me up, and Monica
actually spits out a mouthful
of coffee. Lingerie! Oh, baby, these are some sexy jammies.
She pronounces the j like an h, Spanish language–style.
Probably the sexiest hammies those boys have ever seen, at least on real flesh-and-blood girls.
Porn star bitches don’t count.
“Girl, I happen to be attached to these pahamas, and at least they know we wear them. They
probably fantasized all night about the naked lesbian party happening just down the road.
Hey. You think they spotted
the Popov bottle in back?”
We decide that’s highly unlikely, considering their general state of awareness. “And that stinking exhaust is so loud, I doubt
they’d hear it rolling around.”
Oh, says Syrah. What time is it, anyway? I’m supposed to be at work by eleven. They’ve got me doing the lunch shift today.
She waits tables at the Diamondback Grill. Best cheeseburgers in town.
“It’s probably around ten.
We were up a little after nine.”
Much later than I usually get up.
I’m an early riser for the most part.
Can I catch a ride? asks Monica.
My brother said he’d pick me up, but I could be waiting forever.
“So sorry my company sucks.”
I pout, pretending to be hurt.
But I get it. Dad and Zelda
are way too present inside.
I Expect Zelda
To hang out all day, in fact.
She usually stays the weekend.
So I’m surprised when she asks for a ride back into town with Syrah. Not sure if it’s because of the earlier stress or what.
She claims something else.
My nephew’s coming to visit for a while. His father passed away recently, and my sister’s having a real tough time dealing with everything. I want you to meet Gabe. You two will get along.
We’re waiting for Monica
and Syrah to exit my bedroom dressed in something other
than hammies. “I’m sorry,”
I tell her, because that’s what you say to someone dealing
with a loss, even peripherally.
“Is Gabe going to go to SHS?”
No. He’s nineteen. Your dad said he’d try and get him on at the shop. Gabe’s a pretty good mechanic himself. And this might sound weird, coming from his old aunt, but he’s easy on the eyes.
Awesome
She wants to set me up with
her nephew, who’s too old,
too greasy, and too connected
to Zelda to possibly be the man of my dreams, as if I’m dreaming about men to start with. But since she’s being nice, and since I feel sorry for the way Dad talked to her earlier, I find myself agreeing to stop by her house tomorrow after practice to meet him. “As long as I can
convince Syrah to give me a ride.”
She offers a knowing smile.
I hear you’ll be able to drive yourself around pretty soon.
I stop my eyes mid-roll. “Really?
How’s that supposed to happen?”
I don’t have a license, not to mention a vehicle. Zelda lowers her voice.
I’m not supposed to say anything, but Mark’s been looking at used cars.
Before she can say more, Dad
comes blustering down the hall.
He looks at Zelda. Ready to go?