Without turning around, he said “So, you’re leaving?”
“You seem okay, now. I don’t know how you aren’t still sick after last night, but…”
“You’ve never taken anything in your life, have you?” he asked, turning toward me. On his face, something had changed; something had grown more distant and cold. I shook my head ‘no’. He nodded. I could see him grow more distant with each second. His eyes, so clear and focused a moment ago, back in the bed, were growing cloudy. I could tell he was waiting.
It felt like I had to wrench my eyes away from him. I turned, and walked toward the door. I could feel his eyes on my shoulders the whole time. At the door, I stopped. I put my hand on the knob, and turned around. He hadn’t moved. “I’ll call you,” I said. He blinked, and looked down at the countertop. I immediately felt like I’d said exactly what he thought I would say; and that saying it had stung him very deeply. I didn’t know what to do; I wanted to rush back to him and do the things we’d done last night all over again. I wanted to do anything to make him not feel hurt. I wanted to leave, too. I wanted to get in the car and gun it.
I couldn’t see, but I know his whole body jumped with the click of the closing door.
NINETEEN
In all of the jumble and confusion, I’d forgotten that it was Kevin’s car I’d driven from Sully’s. I’d walked from my parent’s house. I’d have to walk all the way back. I looked up; the sun was just a little past the horizon. The large hand of my watch hovered near ‘7’, as if undecided. The morning was mild, though growing brighter. The road shimmered at the far edge every time I crested a hill. The only cars on the road were empty, and the shop windows all had ‘closed’ signs.
I looked down at my watch as I turned the corner and saw my parents house. It slid over the top of the ‘8’. The car was in the driveway. The paper was already gone from the front porch. Some small, naive part of me had hoped they’d still be in bed. I knew better, though.
The front door opened with a creak. I closed it and locked it. My mother appeared as if by magic the instant I turned around.
“Well, good morning,” she said in a way that meant she didn’t think it was one.
“Hi.” I rubbed my eyes. I was still tired, and I knew what I smelled like.
She looked at my shoes, then slowly up to my eyes. “Is that Mikey?” my father asked from the other room. I heard the rustling of the paper.
“Yes, Albert,” she responded.
“Where’s he been?”
Her right eyebrow cocked. I felt twelve all over again. I walked past her.
“I went over to Sully’s last night and had a beer with Bud Gantner,” I said. I heard my mother’s footsteps just behind me. My father was in his chair, his feet (in black socks, of course) propped on the ottoman. He didn’t look up from the paper as I slid by. My mother followed me all the way into the kitchen. She stood at the counter as I took down a box of cereal from one cupboard, a bowl from another. I had to wait for her to move as I went into the refrigerator.
“I wasn’t aware the Doctor Gantner drank,” my mother said. She meant she didn’t know I drank. That took me aback for a moment. I was thirty, after all; what had made her assume that I didn’t drink? “Susan has called this morning. She says she would like you to call her back as soon as you’re in,” she said as I poured milk. As usual, some slopped onto the counter. The disgusted click of her tongue sounded like a gunshot to me; I felt so small at that moment, all I wanted to do was to leave the house again. Before I could set the milk back inside the refrigerator, she’d already gotten the rag and was wiping up my mess.
I wanted to say I was sorry, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to be sorry for. “Thanks,” I said, picking up the bowl and moving to the table. She shook her head, and her hands went onto her hips.
“Well?” she asked. I stared at her for a second, then took a spoonful of cereal. She exhaled loudly.
“What?” I said with my mouth full.
“Michael James Kendall, you were taught better than to talk with your mouth full,” she said.
I made a show of chewing the remaining cereal, and swallowed loudly. “What’d I do?”
She rolled her eyes, “Where were you? Your father and I were worried sick—”
“You were not. Come on, mom, I was just out—”
“Drinking, yes I know! Making an ass of yourself, no doubt, as well.”
My spoon hung in mid-air. I couldn’t move. My head started to shake a bit. I’d never heard her cuss at me before.
I started to lower the spoon back to the bowl, but my eyes never left hers. After a few seconds, she exhaled loudly again, and stormed out of the kitchen. I heard her heavy steps on the stairs. I had just managed to get my neck relaxed when I heard the paper rustle, and my father came into the kitchen. He looked at me for a second, then asked “Any more of that left?”
I nodded. He went to the same cupboards. Without saying anything, he poured the milk and got a spoon. When he sat down next to me, I saw he’d fixed almost the same exact amount. He took a spoonful, and chewed for a second. I did the same.
“So,” he asked, without looking up, “who was she?”
“That’s not what happened,” I said, looking over at him, “I ran into an old friend from school. He was having a rough night and got himself too drunk to drive home. I took care of him. Crashed at his place.”
He looked up at me, nodded to himself, then began eating, again. I finished my bowl, and leaned back in the chair. Outside, through the blinds, the sun was going from yellow gold to pale white. “You smell bad,” he said. I smiled, and got up from the table.
The hot water streamed down over me, and I tried not to think about how much it felt like fingers. I tried not to think about whose fingers it seemed like. Every time it happened, though, it was either Susan or—or him—just behind my eyes. I didn’t want to think his name. Every time I didn’t think about his name, though, my body responded.
I was thinking about doing something about it when someone knocked on the bathroom door. I tried to cover myself with my hands, and thought, Christ, I am twelve all over again! “Yes?” I asked.
“Don’t forget, dear, you said you would go to the Sheriff’s office to take care of the paperwork from our little accident,” my mother said.
I didn’t remember agreeing to do that, but I said “Okay,” just to get her away from the door. I thought back to every time she’d ever come bursting in on me while I was showering or doing something else that I didn’t want to be disturbed while doing. My cheeks got hot. In a house with two sisters and a mother who didn’t believe in door locks, I learned to hide things. The second therapist had talked extensively about that. “Boundaries,” he’d said, “Michael, they’ve left you with no boundaries.” He’d been right, of course, but at the time it felt like he was attacking my family. I’d been twenty-two, what the hell did I know? I paid for that session and never went back.
I didn’t want to shut off the warm water, but I did anyway. The cold air filtered in so fast, my jaw tensed. I toweled off and slid into my jeans. At the mirror, I started to shave, but stopped. I looked at my face. Something in it was clearer than it had been yesterday.