Big Fat Disaster

by Beth Fehlbaum

  Mom pulls out of Grandma’s embrace. “Let me know if he answers you, Rachel, because he sure won’t respond to me.”

  “Now, Sonya, you don’t want to criticize the children’s father,” Grandma chides. “…Rachel, a condition of your father’s release was that he not leave the state.”

  “You’ve been in touch with Reese, Carol?” Mom crosses her arms over her chest.

  “Well, of course we have, sweetheart. He called us when this whole misunderstanding occurred, and we bonded him out. As soon as it’s settled, we’ll get our money back.”

  Rachel, Mom, and I exchange looks. Drew’s still so excited that my grandmother’s here from Georgia that she doesn’t seem to realize they’re talking about Dad’s arrest.

  Grandma flutters her hand in front of her face. “Whew! It’s hot! Could I get a glass of water, please?” Rivulets of sweat look like little rivers through her thick makeup.

  “Sure you can. I haven’t packed the glasses yet.” Mom gestures to the stacks of boxes and rolls of strapping tape. “As you can see, the house is in a state of chaos…”

  Grandma furrows her brow. “Why on earth are you packing?”

  Mom gives her a sideways look. “I guess you don’t know that our bank accounts are frozen and the government is seizing the house as evidence of Reese’s”—Mom swallows hard—“business practices. We’re supposed to be out within two weeks. He hasn’t been here since Sunday.”

  Grandma plops down on a kitchen chair and drops her purse to the floor. She shakes her head slowly. “I think you’re acting hastily, Sonya. Reese assured Sam and me that the campaign auditor made a mistake, as did the credit card company. They’ll have it all settled within a week.”

  Mom pulls a glass out of the cabinet and turns on the faucet.

  I blurt, “He left us, Grandma. He cheated on Mom!”

  “Don’t say it like that!” Drew wails.

  Rachel heads for the back door. “I’m going to Stephanie’s house. Her family pretends they don’t know about any of this.”

  Grandma looks shocked. “Sonya, I cannot believe that you would involve the children in your marital difficulties.”

  Mom’s eyes get huge and she nearly drops Grandma’s glass of water. Her hand shakes when she holds it out to her. “Would you excuse us, girls?”

  As usual, Drew follows orders like a little robot. She goes to her room, closes the door, and blasts her boy band CD.

  I, on the other hand, stand just out of sight in the hallway and listen as my grandmother lectures my mother on what a lousy wife she is.

  “Sonya, history shows us that powerful men often stray. That doesn’t mean they’re bad people; in fact, when Reese and I prayed together last night, he expressed regret at the pain he’s—”

  “How long have you been in town?” Mom sounds incredulous.

  “Just a day or two, I—”

  “Then you know he’s having an affair.” Mom’s voice is rising. “You know that he resigned after admitting he’s been using the campaign’s credit card to—”

  “That’s just a misunderstanding. Reese said—”

  “Reese said?” Mom laughs bitterly. “Reese said? What, exactly, did Reese say?”

  “Sonya, you need to calm down. The children are going to hear you, and—”

  “Colby’s the one who discovered the affair! She found a picture of Reese kissing that goddamn slut!”

  I gasp and clap my hand over my mouth. I’ve never even heard my mom say, “Dang.” I slide my face to the edge of the wall so that I can see them.

  “Sonya! I am shocked to hear you use such language!” Grandma heaves herself out of the chair, tiptoes to the window, and peeks out. “Are you forgetting that reporters are sneaky and vile and will hang you out to dry if you give them the chance? Didn’t what Leah did to Mark’s reputation make any impression on you? Those snakes are probably slithering around on the ground outside, writing down every word you say!”

  Hands on her hips, Grandma leans forward and tries to see if anyone’s skulking about beneath the window ledge. She takes a long look through the window, then, apparently satisfied, tiptoes back to her chair and sighs heavily as she lowers herself onto the seat. She glances my way and I jerk back, thinking I’ve been discovered. But she turns back to Mom and insists, “You need to stand by Reese throughout this! Let them see you by his side, presenting a united front.”

  Mom shrieks, and something shatters.

  Grandma freaks out. “You’re scaring me! Is that what you did to Reese to drive him away? Did you throw dishes at him, too?”

  Mom takes a deep breath in and blows it out. “I didn’t throw that plate at you, and, no, I never lifted a finger in anger at Reese. But let me tell you what I have done. For the last twenty years, I have been the perfect politician’s wife. I supported Reese without question. I raised his children to respect him as the head of our household. I didn’t speak up when I disagreed with him—or with anybody else, either. I’ve smiled and kept up my looks and done my best to never attract negative attention.

  “And this is the thanks I get: In the last four days, I’ve had to deal with the local news parking itself in my front yard. I’ve—I’ve watched my husband on TV, holding hands with another woman! Besides that, he could be sent to prison! Oh, and let’s not forget that we have to move out, and I have no idea where the children and I will go.”

  Grandma sighs loudly. “Well…I can certainly see what Reese was talking about when he told me that everything always has to be about you.” Her voice cracks. “My poor son. I can’t even imagine what he’s had to put up with all these years. Just from what he told me last night, I—”

  Mom laughs, and she sounds a little crazy. “Oh, yes. Reese has had it so rough, with a wife and children who adored him and had no idea he was stealing from his campaign to take his mistress to the Four Seasons spa three times since April!”

  Grandma’s voice is so low that I practically have to come out of my hiding place to hear her. “Let me ask you something, Sonya. Now, don’t get more upset; just listen to what I’m saying. Please know that this question comes from a place of caring, because I love you as if you were my flesh-and-blood daughter.”

  Mom murmurs a strangled, “Okay.”

  “What are you doing to get him back?”

  Dead silence…Then, it’s like a bomb of emotions explodes in our kitchen: “Are you kidding me? He hasn’t even bothered to call to check on the girls since he left! I’ve been trying to find out how I’m supposed to get Rachel moved two thousand miles to college. I’ve never driven a truck with a trailer. I’ve never been on a long trip like that by myself. Reese won’t call me back! Then you show up today and announce that Dale’s taking his place. It’s like I’m at the mercy of the choices he makes, and I’ve about had enough!”

  Grandma matches Mom’s loudness. “There you go again! I’m telling you, you cannot keep saying things like that!” She lowers her voice and hisses, “Especially not so that others can hear you! Answer my question, please: I asked what you are doing to make him want to come home.”

  I don’t even feel my feet move from the hallway to the kitchen: My rage has me rocket-powered. “Stop it, Grandma! Leave Mom alone! It’s not her fault that Dad left!”

  Mom holds up a hand. “Colby, you don’t need to defend me. I’m a big girl.”

  “Speaking of ‘big girl’…” Grandma looks me up and down. “How much do you weigh now?”

  I clench my fists and lean forward. “That’s none of your fucking business! Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

  Grandma springs out of her chair really fast for an old lady and slaps me hard. I spin on my heel and stomp toward my room, with Mom hot on my trail. I try to slam my door, but she lurches forward and snatches hold of my upper arm with a death grip. Her eyes are blazing.

  “How dare you speak to your grandmother that way? Where did you even learn that word?”

  “Are you on crack, Mom? I live in the r
eal world. I hear that word every day at school. It’s in the music I listen to, it’s—”

  Mom sputters, “Crack? Are you—is that…What music? Well, you’re certainly not going to listen to it anymore!” She steps into my room and snatches my iPod off my dresser.

  “Mom! Didn’t you hear what Grandma said? How can you be mad at me after everything she said to you?” I’m furious at myself for starting to cry.

  “You were eavesdropping?” Her face turns bright red, and she swallows hard. “What is the matter with you, Colby Diane? You used to be such an obedient girl!” She moves to the hallway, my iPod cord dangling from her hand.

  “No, I wasn’t!” I yell. “I was never the obedient one. That’s Drew! And I was never the perfect one. That’s Rachel! You’d swear that I’m Aunt Leah’s child, remember? I’m the one who doesn’t fit!”

  I slam my door and lock it, then throw myself face-down on my bed and scream into my pillow until my head feels like it’s going to explode. I sob so hard that I’m sure I’m going to throw up.

  Later, somebody—I think it’s Drew—knocks on my door, but I can’t hear what she’s saying over the racket I’m making. Finally, I fall asleep.

  I wake and think it’s morning, but my clock radio reads 6:18 P.M. I ease open my door and peer down the hall. Silence. I pop into the bathroom and study the bright red handprint Grandma left on my cheek.

  I tiptoe toward the kitchen and stick my head around the corner. There’s a note taped to the cabinet.

  Colby~

  We’ve gone to grab something to eat with Grandma. Guess you were asleep. Will bring you something back.

  Mom

  I pull the tub of chocolate chip cookie dough out of the freezer and pop it in the microwave for a few minutes to soften it up. Then I grab a spoon, snatch the dough from the oven, and go back to my room. I lock my door just in case everyone comes back, and settle on the floor among the cardboard boxes and garbage bags that hold pieces of my life.

  I shovel in heaping spoonfuls of lukewarm dough and I don’t feel a thing—not the horror of finding the photo, not the deep-seated shame of being the one who told, not the indescribable ache of my dad leaving us. I don’t even think about the way my mom lets me know in a hundred tiny ways that she doesn’t like me, much less love me. I’m a numb mound of cells until I can’t eat another bite because it feels like my insides will explode. I’m surprised that the tub’s nearly empty; I bury it under some old magazines in a trash sack and crawl to my bed. My head is spinning, and raw cookie dough is backing up into my throat.

  Good times.

  Mom calls my name and knocks on my door, but I ignore it. She picks my lock. I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep when she sits on the edge of my bed and touches my shoulder.

  “Colby?”

  “Hmm?” I flutter my eyes as if I’m waking and try to sit up, but I’m still too woozy from eating nearly a pound of lightly heated cookie dough. I stifle a burning burp that I hope looks like a yawn.

  “I brought you take-out from Panera Bread. Smoked ham and Swiss.” She sniffs the air and makes a face. “It smells like cookies in here.”

  I mumble, “I don’t know why it would.”

  She tugs at my arm. “Well, sit up. You haven’t been eating enough lately, and I’m worried about you.”

  “According to Grandma, I’m as big as a house.” I glare at Mom because I know she thinks the same thing.

  Mom sighs. “She means well, she’s just…” Her eyes are as dull as her voice. “I hope you’ll feel up to joining us, and that you’ll apologize to your grandmother.”

  Even though I’m painfully full, I still have room for rage. “Has she taken back what she said to you?”

  Mom snaps, “You weren’t supposed to hear that. I asked you to excuse yourself.” She tosses the take-out bag at me and massages her temples. “I may not like what she said, but there could be a grain of truth to it. Maybe your dad just made a mistake. He is a powerful man, after all, and it’s natural for women to—”

  I blast her, shouting, “Seriously, Mom? You’re blaming yourself for what he did? He lied to you! He lied to everyone! My whole life, I believed it when Dad said that honesty is everything to our family!”

  I don’t know how long Grandma has been listening in the doorway. “That has nothing to do with it, Colby! We don’t air our dirty laundry to the world! Your Aunt Leah could not grasp that concept, and that’s why she’s barely getting by. Do you want your mother to be broke and miserable, too? Do you want your whole world to be turned upside down?”

  I touch her handprint on my cheek and murmur, “I think it already is.”

  Around noon on Friday, Uncle Dale arrives in a pickup truck pulling a horse trailer. We all go out on the porch to look, and Rachel’s eyes are huge. “I’m supposed to put my stuff in that?”

  He claps her on the back as he comes inside. “Well, sure, sweetheart, I hosed it out before I left Shreveport this morning. That trailer’s the Cadillac of equine travel. It’s got AC and everything! And—no worries—I left the windows open all the way here to air out the smell.”

  Rachel slumps, and her voice is flat. “FML.”

  “Ef-em-el? What on earth does that mean?” Mom asks.

  Rachel rolls her eyes. “It’s French.” She gives me a warning look, like I’m going to tell Mom that FML means Fuck My Life. She sighs. “Stephanie’s going to die when I tell her this.” She slips her phone from her pocket and texts as she walks to her room.

  Uncle Dale watches her go and turns to Mom. “I stopped by Leah’s place to see if she’s still mad at us and to ask Ryan if he wanted to go on a road trip to Oregon. I thought he might be inspired to apply to the same school in a couple of years, and I was also hoping that spending some man-to-man time with him on the way back home might help. I thought that I could explain to him about how the world works, so he won’t go through the rest of his life bringing a rain of fire down on himself. It’s not like Leah’s going to teach him about the importance of keeping his mouth shut.”

  Mom arches an eyebrow. “And?”

  Dale shakes his head. “No dice. Leah tried to make excuses for him; said she needs him to help out in her bakery…but Ryan told me that he already has one asshole, and he sure doesn’t need to be stuck in a truck with two other ones. I suppose he means me and Rachel.”

  “Such language!” Grandma spits from the armchair. “Ryan brought all his problems on himself by getting involved where he had no business. It was that girl’s word against the boy’s. Ryan doesn’t get to be the judge of others. The Bible says—”

  I blurt, “Yeah, wouldn’t the Bible call Dad an adulterer and thief?”

  Mom lunges at me. “Colby!”

  “Last time I checked, adultery and stealing were right up there in the Top Ten.” I figure she’s going to latch onto my upper arm again, but she doesn’t.

  Uncle Dale talks to me like I’m a little kid, even calling me the pet name he gave me when I was born and looked to him like a chubby teddy bear. “You don’t understand, Colby-Bear. Ryan admitted that all the guests at the party—the entire football team and the cheerleaders—were drinking. That girl put herself in the position of being taken advantage of, if that’s what really happened. Ryan was wrong to turn his back on his teammate.” He drops into Dad’s recliner and puts his feet up.

  I fold my arms and pace in front of the TV. “I’m just trying to figure out who the rules apply to, because my whole life, Dad’s been lecturing me about doing the right thing, even when it’s hard. So, Ryan tells the truth about what he saw and three guys beat him up for it, but instead of being proud of him, you criticize him. I think you’re nothing but a bunch of hypocrites.”

  “Colby!” Mom steps in front of me.

  I look around, and my entire family is staring at me like I’ve got horns and a pointy tail. I hug myself tight and glare at my feet.

  “There’s just one thing to do with a child like Colby at a time like this,”
Grandma announces. She works her way out of the chair, stands, and holds out her hands for a prayer circle. “Let us ask the Lord to remove the darkness from her soul.”

  I head for my room. “You do what you want. I’m going to pack.” I throw back over my shoulder, “You know, since we have to leave this house, seeing as how Dad forgot how to do the right thing.”

  After Uncle Dale and Grandma leave to meet up with Dad, Mom tries to get Rachel to invite some friends over for a going-away party. Rachel doesn’t want to see anyone, but Mom insists that we do something to try to make our last night together special. We order pizza. Mom asks Rachel to finish packing the stuff she’s not taking to school, since we’ll be moving it wherever we’re going.

  Drew and I are tired of packing and want to watch TV, but Mom still won’t let us hook up the antenna cable, and the DVD player is freezing up. Since I haven’t apologized to Grandma, Mom won’t let me have my iPod.

  Instead, she listens to it and surfs the Internet for our new life.

  I wake around 2:00 A.M. to someone crying. I tiptoe outside Rachel’s room. Mom’s with her.

  Rachel whines, “I don’t want to go to Oregon with Uncle Dale. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. We planned on going together!”

  Mom’s voice is low, soothing. “Aw, honey, I know. It was going to be a family vacation. I wish I could go, too, but I have about a week to find us a place to live. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize, Mom. You’re not the one who’s pretending we don’t exist. I don’t understand what’s happening. Is there something, like, mentally wrong with Dad?”

  Mom doesn’t answer for a long time. Finally, she says, “You’re going to get to school and be so busy getting unpacked and finding your way around Portland, you won’t have time to think about what’s happened here. It’ll be good for you, Rachel.” Mom’s trying to use her sunshiny voice, but it keeps breaking.

  Rachel wails, “How am I going to make it until Thanksgiving without seeing you every day?”