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Glass - 02

Page 10

by Ellen Hopkins


  rude way. No problem, L.

  They knew we were coming,

  right gang? He moves toward

  Leigh, who retreats slightly.

  Well, I’m happy to see you.

  Leigh’s face has gone

  from ivory linen to scarlet

  fleece, especially the tips

  of her ears. What took you

  so long, Father? Too

  busy to pick up the phone?

  I…I…I…, he stutters, his

  inability to respond fueled

  by the monster. [The monster,

  on a crash diet of guilt.]

  I don’t know what to say

  except I’m sorry. Forgive me?

  This could be fun to watch,

  as long as the sniping doesn’t

  turn into sniper fire—the battle

  of the Snows. “No hello for

  me, Dad?” I complain, adding,

  “Nice to meet you, Linda Sue.”

  Everyone turns startled eyes

  in my direction, as if they

  can’t believe I had the guts

  to interfere. But a broad sense

  of relief floods the room. No one

  wants a battle between the Snows.

  Scott takes the reins, offers,

  Let’s go out on the patio.

  Can I get you something

  to drink? Iced tea? Lemonade?

  We have some soda, too, I

  think. Coke. Root beer…

  Dad just can’t not be Dad.

  How ’bout real beer? Any

  kind will do. We’re not

  picky, are we, Linda Sue?

  He gives her a kiss unsuitable

  for mixed company.

  [Not picky? Ha! Major

  understatement!] I stuff Bree

  back inside as Scott guides Dad

  and Linda Sue outside. Mom

  goes to hustle up a couple of

  beers. Heather follows Leigh

  upstairs. Jake and I stand here,

  exchanging looks of disbelief.

  Then we both break down

  into a fit of uncontrollable

  laughter. Your dad is really

  weird, Jake can finally say.

  Another major understatement.

  Dad and Pal

  Overstay their welcome.

  [Huge surprise!]

  We have planned a birthday

  dinner at our favorite

  Italian restaurant in Reno

  and as the hour of our

  reservation approaches,

  Mom and Scott grow a bit

  antsy; Leigh and Heather

  still have not reappeared;

  and Hunter wakes from an overlong

  nap hungry, wet, and otherwise

  irritated. When I go to mitigate

  that, Dad decides to tag along.

  As I discard a soggy diaper

  in favor of a nice dry one, Dad

  says, That boy is going to make

  some woman very happy one

  day! Takes after his grandpa,

  in more ways than one.

  Okay, that’s much more than

  I want to know. “Well, I guess

  he has your eyes. And not a lot

  of hair. So yes, I guess he takes

  after you a little bit, Dad.”

  We laugh as I dress Hunter

  in cute overalls and a plaid shirt.

  Can I hold him? asks Dad,

  and my look is all the reply

  he needs. Hey, I’m no worse

  off than you right now! Relax.

  I remember how to hold a baby.

  I promise I won’t drop

  the little guy on his head.

  He takes Hunter gently

  from my arms, and though

  the smell of Dad’s crank

  sweat makes me cringe,

  Hunter doesn’t seem

  to notice one little bit.

  Despite my trepidation,

  Dad looks completely

  comfortable, holding

  a baby. See? he says.

  It ain’t rocket science.

  Hunter also looks comfy

  as Dad carries him back

  to the living room. Check

  him out, L. Looks just like me.

  Linda Sue agrees, but everyone

  else just stares at me like I’ve

  totally lost my mind.

  I’ll admit I’m slipping into

  the crash zone. Only one

  way I know to fix that.

  Okay, Two Ways

  And, all things considered,

  I probably shouldn’t try

  to sneak off for a walk

  with the monster.

  So I’ll make it through

  dinner somehow (might

  even manage a nibble

  or three) and crash like a dead

  jet plane tonight. Of course,

  first we have to get to dinner.

  So where are you staying?

  Scott asks Dad. [Hint!]

  Some little dive in downtown

  Reno, answers Dad.

  Figures, Leigh whispers

  to Heather, who laughs out loud.

  It’s not so bad, offers Linda

  Sue. Small rooms, but clean.

  Mom bustles onto the scene

  with her purse. Let’s go!

  Go? says Dad. Do you have

  plans? Don’t let us interfere.

  We weren’t planning on letting

  you interfere, Leigh chimes in.

  Scott moves between Leigh and

  Dad. We have dinner reservations.

  Linda Sue starts toward

  the door. Time to go, Wayne.

  Sure, says Dad. Good seeing

  you all. Kristina? Walk me out?

  Dad Carries Hunter out the Door

  Okay, that’s really creepy. “Uh, Dad?”

  I hurry after him, Linda Sue, and my

  baby, but have to fight my way past

  Mom. Wayne? she calls, wrinkling

  her nose at the stench he’s left

  in his wake. I’ll take the baby.

  Dad turns, grinning. You didn’t think

  I was kidnapping him, did you?

  Sheesh. I’ve got enough problems!

  [No shit!] Still, both Bree and I

  are relieved when he hands off Hunter

  to Mom. He gestures for me to follow

  him to his car. I want to take you

  out tomorrow night for your birthday.

  As you can probably tell, I brought

  a little go-fast along, but it’s mostly

  gone. I’m thinking you’ve got stash

  of your own. Can you spare some?

  [Whose birthday is this, anyway?]

  “I have a little I can share,” I admit.

  “But only about half a gram.”

  If I give you some cash, can you

  score some more? He extracts two

  wadded hundreds from a pocket.

  “I’ll try. But just so you know,

  this was the first time I’ve done

  any since Hunter was born.”

  Okay. He slides behind his steering

  wheel. Oh. I ran into Buddy before

  I left. He said to send you his love.

  Dad Drives Off

  Leaves me coughing

  on his exhaust fumes and shaking

  at his parting remark.

  I haven’t stopped

  to think about Buddy, aka Adam,

  in a very long time.

  Adam, who started me

  on the highway to nowhere. And guess

  where I’m standing now.

  [Pretty damn close to nowhere.]

  Still, remembering our

  time together brings more happiness

  than anything else.

  They say you’ll always

  love your very fir
st

  love. I’ll always love Adam a little.

  But he’s married, with

  a baby just about Hunter’s age. Why

  would he send his love?

  [Because he’s a fucking player.]

  Of course he’s a player.

  But he was my player once, at least

  for a few great weeks.

  Everyone piles out the

  door. We’ll have to take two cars,

  says Mom. Jake, you ride

  with Dad. Ladies, we can

  squeeze into mine. But I volunteer to go

  with Scott. “More room.”

  [Less nervous conversation.]

  Jake sits up front. I take

  the backseat for me, Bree, and

  memories best forgotten.

  Dad stirs them up too,

  and something else—a big ol’

  cauldron of guilt.

  Two weeks and I’m most

  of the way through a ball. What have I

  done? Can I undo it now?

  [Fat chance, now you’ve set me free.]

  Saturday Morning

  I wake to voices in the hallway.

  [Don’t move. Pretend you’re still asleep.]

  Mom: I’m going to wake her up.

  Leigh: Let her sleep. I’ll take care of Hunter.

  Heather: She did look exhausted last night.

  Exhausted barely covers it.

  [And now you’ll be swamp-headed.]

  Mom: I don’t know what’s up with her lately.

  Leigh: Having a baby so young can’t be easy.

  Heather: Her dieting must take a toll too.

  Okay, she definitely knows.

  [But is she going to tell?]

  Mom: Dieting? What do you mean?

  Heather: She barely touched dinner last night.

  Leigh: And you know how she loves Italian.

  Heather barely touched dinner either.

  [Yeah, but she’s a better bullshitter.]

  Mom: She has lost a few pounds recently.

  Leigh: Rapid weight loss isn’t good, though.

  Heather: I’d love to know how she’s managed it.

  I’m going to kill her.

  [You don’t, I definitely will.]

  The Hallway Conversation

  Recedes and I tug myself out of bed.

  I thought I did a good con job at dinner

  last night. Now I’ll probably catch

  an earful about rapid weight loss from Mom.

  Heather is definitely on my shit list.

  But apparently the loosening

  of my jeans has not escaped notice.

  Now if I can just run into Trey.

  I’d call him about scoring for Dad,

  but Stockton is too far away. So

  last night, when everyone wandered

  off to their bedrooms, I called Grade E.

  I kept the request cryptic, of course,

  and asked to meet away from the Sev.

  Wouldn’t do to get busted there, where

  I’m supposed to start work on Monday.

  Speaking of Grady, what time is it,

  anyway? The clock says ten thirty.

  Crap! I was supposed to meet him

  at ten. I jump into clothes and dash

  for my phone. Great. A message.

  It’s Grady, and he isn’t happy.

  Where the fuck are you? It’s ten

  fifteen. You’ve got five minutes!

  I hit call return, fingers crossed.

  “Hey, Grady, it’s me. Sorry I’m late.

  I…uh…got hung up with my mom.

  I can be there in a couple of minutes.”

  He agrees to meet me at the state

  park. But I’ll want a taste.

  I hope he means a taste of crystal,

  not a taste of Kristina.

  First I’ve Got To

  Get out the front door without

  someone stopping me. One excuse

  comes easily to mind. I locate

  my keys and the money Dad gave

  me and don’t even stop to brush

  my teeth or hair. [Ugly picture!]

  I hear everyone in the kitchen.

  Perfect. “I’ll be right back,” I call,

  stowing the excuse for later.

  I go straight for my car, jam

  the key into the ignition, and as

  I back out, I notice Mom at

  the door, hands on hips. Her lips

  are moving, but I wave and keep

  going. Within a quarter mile

  my cell rings. Caller ID says it’s

  Mom, and I consider letting

  it go to voice mail. Better not.

  “Hi, Mom. Yes, I know I was rude.

  Yes, I’m grateful Leigh volunteered

  to get up with Hunter. Yes, I know

  we’ve got lots to do today. Yes, I

  understand how important tomorrow

  is. Where am I going?” [Thought

  she’d never ask!] “I woke up

  majorly on the rag and out of

  tampons. Had to get some ASAP.”

  She mentions the obvious—

  that she has a box in her

  bathroom. Couldn’t I have

  asked instead of taking

  off like a bandit in the night?

  “Heh-heh, yeah, I suppose

  I could have, huh? Sorry for

  being so dense, Mom.” I hold

  my breath and, lucky me,

  she goes for it, hook, line, and

  bobber. (I hate sinkers. My

  bait always gets stuck in

  the muck when I use them.)

  Anyway, I shouldn’t waste

  a lot of time doing blow

  with Grade E. He’s parked

  at the far end of the parking

  lot. And guess what.

  He’s not alone. From

  a distance I can see

  two guys, bobbing heads.

  They’re doing toot, and it

  looks to me like they’re

  doing it the old-fashioned

  way—with a straw and mirror.

  Wonder whose crank

  they’re snorting. Wonder

  how short the ball will

  be. [The two-hundred-dollar

  price tag makes sense now.

  We’re getting street crank,

  not ice.] Wonder how cut

  it will be. I pull into a near

  parking spot, and when I do,

  the face that jumps into view

  makes me forget about every

  question I had only seconds

  before. He’s dark

  and cute and he looks like Hunter.

  It’s Brendan, and I want to puke.

  But I Can’t Puke

  I can’t

  turn and run and

  I can’t

  look weak and

  I can’t

  even get nasty until the

  deal

  is done.

  Brendan flashes a smile laced

  with

  evil. I can’t stand him. I despise

  him.

  And now I have to look

  him in the eye?

  I won’t

  give him the satisfaction of turning away.

  I won’t

  get in his face, or out of his face.

  I won’t

  give up my secret.

  No, I will never,

  ever,

  not in a billion years,

  confess

  the unimaginable result

  of his despicable act,

  that

  it created beauty.

  Will never confess that

  my son

  [can evil be genetic?]

  is his son.

  I Had Hoped

  Never to see Brendan again,

  but I guess it just goes to show

  that
as much as Reno has grown,

  it’s still a compact city. And just

  my luck, Brendan still lives in it.

  I’ll take the high road and if

  the low road seems necessary,

  I’ll let Bree get behind the wheel.

  One thing for certain, though,

  I’m not getting into Grady’s car.

  I roll down my window; Brendan

  does likewise and I speak past him.

  “Hey, Grady. Thanks for waiting.

  Come over here, will you please?

  I’d rather handle this in private.”

  Aren’t you going to say hi?

  Each of Brendan’s words is

  a stab. I heard you had a baby.

  Deep stabs, severing arteries.

  You look good, anyway.

  Ever chivalrous, that would be

  Brendan. “Hi, Brendan. Yes,

  I had a baby. And you look

  exactly the same. Grady,

  will you please come here?”

  Grade E obliges. I shut my

  window, turn my back on

  Brendan. [Why didn’t you do

  that before?] Bree? Lecturing

  me? Am I totally schizo or what?

  The Worst Thing Is

  Brendan knows I’m back in the monster’s snare.

  And what a coincidence. [Coin cide is two

 

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