“Listen,” she said, “we’re taking a dinner break. The dress rehearsal was a disaster and we’re running through the whole thing again at ten. We need to talk and-God! I just heard how stupid that sounds. I’m so sorry about your mom, I really am, and so is Mabel. Did you get the flowers we sent? I’d really like to come to the service tomorrow morning. I would’ve called sooner but I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to-”
I picked up the receiver. “I love you, Beth, and we should be together, and you know it. I feel so alone right now, and I could just
… never mind. I don’t think I want to talk right now.”
“Then don’t say anything, just listen for a minute, okay?
“Happiness scares the hell out of me, it always has. I mean, it’s great at the time but I know it’s never going to last. I didn’t come to live with Mabel right away, you know. Mom tried palming me off on other relatives for a long time, and I’d stay with them for a couple of weeks, a month maybe, but eventually they’d always send me back because I was in the way, or didn’t get along with their cat, or made them nervous or whatever. It didn’t matter how hard I tried, how I concentrated on changing myself, remaking myself so they’d like me better and want to keep me, it was never good enough. This went on for a few years, and after the first couple of times I learned how to adapt, okay? I wasn’t going to be in any place for very long, so I found a way to make fast friends. Mostly boys. If I put out, they didn’t treat me like I was some kind of dog. And I’d spent so long being treated that way I started to believe that’s what I was-I still do, sometimes. But you spread your legs for them and you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, even if it’s just for one night. I knew it was okay to enjoy their company and stuff and not care about the consequences because I wasn’t going to be around long enough for anything I said or did to matter. I learned to trust happiness only if it was temporary, because then it’s okay when it ends. You can always find another quick fix in the next place.
“Then Mabel took me in and that was that. I stayed. And that meant having to trust I’d be happy for the long run, but the long run wasn’t in my repertoire so I just kept acting like I was going to be moving on any day now. But I didn’t. I stayed. Then one day I meet the cutest little boy in the world while I’m in the hospital and even though he’s only nine he acts like he’s thirty and I know that he’s going to be something really great when he grows into himself. And he was, and I loved him-I still love him, even though he can’t see what a great person he is. I got… I got comfortable, all right? And I always associated ‘comfortable’ with bored, because I always wanted things to be new, do you understand? I hate that about myself, but things are only interesting to me when they’re new- that’s when I feel the most alive. So anytime I’d start feeling bored, I’d see someone else for a week or so and that was new, I made myself new with them, and it was exciting and unpredictable and when it ended, when I’d get back in sync with you, we were new again. I’ve just been so used to re-making myself for so long that I couldn’t stop.
“I know that doesn’t justify what I’ve done-what I’ve been doing-and I’m not trying to make excuses, right? I just wanted to give you an explanation because I do love you and I’ve hurt you so much and you didn’t deserve it and if there’s anything I can do, any way to make it good again, to fix things, to make you feel less alone-”
“-are you done?”
A soft breath, a softer swallow. “Yes.”
I looked at the room in which I was sitting, at the furniture and the small bits of dust here and there and the faded pictures on the mantel and decided that I couldn’t remain here. This was an alien shelter in an alien world where outside the walls people you thought you knew were just stacks of carbon hiding behind the scrim of humanity you put in front of them so you wouldn’t have to deal with what they really were.
“I’m sorry you got bored with me. And I’m sorry there’s no way this can ever be fixed. I can’t be your friend anymore. I love you… I love you too much in another way for that, so I can’t be your friend anymore and that makes me sad. Please don’t come to the service tomorrow, and please don’t ever call me again. I hope the show goes well. Break a leg.”
I hung up. She did not call back.
I spent the next two weeks making all the necessary arrangements to leave Cedar Hill, stopping only long enough to eat or sleep, neither of which I did in any great quantity. Pippin received decent reviews, especially for Beth.
I gave notice at work. I stored most of the furniture and all of the keepsakes. I hired a cleaning crew to come in and scrub the place from top to bottom. I hosed down the outside until the aluminum siding shone. I had a landscaper come in and fix the lawn, adding flowers and plants out front and a pair of small trees in the backyard. Both Mom and Dad had often remarked how they’d wished we had more shade back there.
One of the offices I cleaned nights was a downtown real estate firm. I showed up an hour early on one of my last nights and spoke with the manager, who was all too happy to help make arrangements to put the house on the market. I gave her all the necessary information on the house, as well as the bank account number where the funds were to be deposited, and told her I would call with my new address as soon as I was settled. We made copies of the keys, signed some forms, and shook hands.
I decided to go down to Kansas and visit my grandmother for a while. She was old and not in the best of health and had cried for an hour on the phone when I called to tell her about her daughter’s accidental death. She had neither the strength nor the money to make the trip to Ohio for the service. I wanted to be around her for as long as she might still be alive; I wanted to be around someone who’d known my mother as a child and could tell me things about her that I’d never known. Dad’s mother never entered into the picture; she never liked me and I never liked her, so there would be no love lost between us.
Two nights before I planned to leave, I was sitting in the middle of the emptied living room reading an excellent biography of the late blues guitarist Roy Buchanan when it suddenly occurred to me that I never knew what Mom’s or Dad’s favorite song was. I have no idea where the thought came from, but once it entered my head it would not leave, and soon-after polishing off half a twelve-pack of Blatz (Dad’s beer of choice)-I started to cry. It seemed to me that someone should have cared enough to ask either of them if they even had a favorite song and, if they did, should have cared enough to remember what it was. So I focused on that until my head felt like it was going to implode.
The ringing of the phone jarred something back into place, and as soon as I answered, the first thing out of my mouth was, “ ‘Kiss an Angel Good Morning.’ Mom’s favorite song was-”
On the other end, someone burst into sobs.
I shook myself back into the moment at hand and said, “Hello? I’m sorry about-who is this?”
Beth spluttered out my name, then said: “I’m s-s-sorry, I know y-you said not to call but s-ssomething’s happened and I… ohgod… please come over. I can’t ask anyone else t-to-”
I was sitting up straight, every nerve in my body twitching. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“… gotta… gottadosomethingwiththeanimals now, I d-d-don’t know what I’m supposed to… She said everything was okay, I asked her, you know? ‘Everything’s fine now,’ that’s what she said…”
Forget the lies and feelings of betrayal and the anger and rage and pain and jealousy and everything else; when someone you love calls you in the middle of the night in hysterics, you tell your pride to screw itself and go to them without another thought.