The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written

by H. M. Mann

  “Sixty-eight, is it?”

  Marion smiled.

  “So you like him?”

  “Child, if he keeps coming around, I may turn thirty again. He certainly has personality and a quick mind. I never would have guessed that a pizza delivery driver could be so funny and charming.”

  And hot for me. For me. “Just think, if I didn’t take that job across town, I might never have met him.”

  “Oh, please don’t start that ‘it must be God’s will’ crap again. You two were going to meet eventually. You’re made for each other. Just be glad you met him now while your plumbing still works. How many kids you two gonna have?”

  Gloria smiled. “Fifteen.”

  Marion gasped.

  “We’ll need lots of bathrooms.”

  21

  After school, Gloria and Angel rode the city bus to Valley View Mall so Gloria could do a little experiment.

  “We’re going to the mall to do some window-shopping before Christmas,” she told Angel. To see if you’re still a little girl.

  “They don’t sell windows at the mall,” Angel said.

  Johnny would say this is yet another example of Angel thinking too literally. I’ll bet she just doesn’t know what the phrase means. “We’re going to look for presents for Johnny, Grandma, and each other, and we’re going to look at what’s behind the windows.”

  “Why?”

  Because that’s the definition of window-shopping! “You can see most of what the stores are selling in the windows without going inside.” Where they will “May I help you?” to death and try to convince you to buy things you don’t need.

  “We could just go on the Internet, Mama.”

  But then I couldn’t do my little experiment, and our dialup connection at home is so slow I can click on Google, take a shower, cook a meal, eat it, and finally type in a search word after the dishes are dried and put away. “What do you think we should get Grandma for Christmas?” Besides manners and the ability to mind her own business.

  “A new griddle,” Angel said.

  How … domestic. My child wants to shop at Sears. “What else?”

  Angel shrugged. “Grandma doesn’t need anything else.”

  Gloria pulled Angel to her. “Baby girl, Christmas is about wishes and dreams. What do you think Grandma wishes for?”

  “I can’t read Grandma’s mind.”

  No one can, and who would want to? It must be a dark, confusing place. “Well, what have you always wanted to get her?” And please say something childlike like a puppy, or a kitten, or a bicycle, or even a Cadillac.

  “I don’t have any money.”

  Okay. That was literal. “If you had enough money to buy her anything, what would you buy her?”

  “A new stove.”

  Not Sears again! “Why? Her old stove is perfectly fine.”

  “She says it doesn’t cook right anymore. That’s why she has to spin the pans around in the oven.”

  True, but … “To tell you the truth, Angel, I don’t know if Grandma can cook on any stove but that one.”

  They browsed windows at the crowded mall, Gloria watching for the lights in Angel’s eyes.

  They paused in front of the Disney store. Nothing. Not even a spark.

  GameStop didn’t stop Angel from yawning.

  Angel rolled her eyes at Build-A-Bear Workshop.

  Gloria rolled her eyes at Build-A-Bear Workshop, too.

  Angel didn’t love Puppy Love.

  “Mama, you’re staring at me.”

  To see if there’s still a kid in there somewhere! “Sometimes I watch your eyes to see what you want.”

  “I don’t want anything here,” Angel said.

  “Not even a puppy?”

  “Where will we put it? Who will raise it? Who will clean up after it?”

  Angel is now officially not a child. What have I been raising? “Well, is there any store you want to go in?”

  Angel grabbed Gloria’s hand. “Can we go to the bookstore?”

  Angel never made it to the back of Barnes & Noble and the children’s section, rushing directly to find a hardcover book called The Complete Pyramids: Solving the Ancient Mysteries. Angel handed the hefty book to Gloria. “It’s on sale, Mama.”

  For $34.95! Wow! All of ten measly percent off. What a bargain. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  Angel nodded, her eyes little lights.

  Gloria felt her firm belief in nurture over nature slipping away. She had always thought that Paul had little effect on Angel aside from half her appearance and her poor eyesight and numerous teeth, but somehow Paul and his college majors and degrees were always seeping through in frustrating ways.

  “It can be an early Christmas present, right, Mama?”

  A thick book with pictures and diagrams of dead stone thrills her. Puppies? No. Toys? No. Stuffed animals? No—and I have to agree with her there. Dressing your bear? Who thought up that nonsense?

  “And you know I will read it, Mama.”

  And re-read it until your eyes wear out and we have to get you another lens prescription. “Okay, okay, we’ll get the book.”

  Her experiment gone awry, Gloria led Angel out of the mall and across the parking lot to Chick-fil-A so they could split a Kid’s Meal. “Um, no, um toys necessary,” Gloria told the cashier. Do they even give toys? “Just the food.”

  “Are you sure?” the cashier asked. “We put a little educational fun in every bag.”

  Gloria stepped aside to allow the cashier to see Angel poring over her new book. “Just the food,” Gloria said.

  After eating most of the nuggets and waffle fries since Angel couldn’t tear her eyes away from the table of contents for even a second, Gloria hustled Angel back to the mall to f.y.e. to buy a video.

  “Pick any video you like, and we’ll watch it tonight together.”

  Angel frowned. “Why don’t we just rent one?”

  Because I do not want to take a smelly city bus to Hollywood Video, get out of the smelly city bus, pick out a movie, and wait for another smelly city bus to take us home. “I just thought you’d like to have a video you can watch again and again and again.”

  “Oh.”

  Once again, Angel avoided any kids’ movies and zeroed in on a boxed set of DVDs.

  Gloria’s heart sank.

  “Can we get all these?” Angel asked.

  Gloria paid $50 for Indiana Jones—The Complete Adventure Collection, which included Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Temple of Doom, The Last Crusade, and The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.

  Maybe she likes Harrison Ford, Gloria hoped. Maybe she’s just an action-adventure kind of girl. Nothing wrong with that, nothing at all.

  “Mama?” Angel asked, looking up briefly from her book as the bus rolled home.

  “Yes, baby?”

  “You know what I want to be when I grow up?”

  “What, baby?”

  “An archaeologist.”

  I have failed so miserably as a mother, Gloria thought. Johnny’s right. Angel is too grown. She’d rather have a set of encyclopedias than a coloring book. Cartoons “are for children,” she says. “Toys are stupid because they always break,” she says. Her jump rope doesn’t have a single frayed fiber on it. The wheels on her roller skates have dust on them instead of gouges. Her computerized virtual pet died in only one night!

  “The child is jaded at five,” Marion said after Gloria explained her failed experiment when they got home. “She’s already bored with childhood.”

  Gloria slumped on the loveseat. “You see how she held that book? Like it was the Holy Bible.”

  Marion tapped the box of DVDs. “We’re going to watch one of these tonight?”

  “Right. We are going to watch one or two while she solves the ancient mysteries of the pyramids.” Gloria kicked off her shoes. “She’ll probably have it read by the time she goes to bed.”

  Marion appraised Gloria’s hair and frowned. “You gonna do something about
your hair and”—she waved her hands in front of Gloria’s face and body—“before Johnny gets here?”

  “I look fine, Mama.”

  “Well, you gonna do anything … different?”

  Gloria sighed. “Mama, Johnny likes what I normally look like, right? If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?”

  “Well at least fix your hair.” She grimaced. “I didn’t know hair could break. Do something with it.”

  “My hair is fine. Johnny seems to like it the way it is.”

  “Well …” Marion squinted. “I mean, have you even asked him if he likes it like that?”

  “No, but aren’t you the one who said never to put on airs for anybody?”

  Marion scowled. “Cuz we couldn’t afford to put on airs for anybody, that’s why. At least … push it away from your neck. Y’all gonna be doing some necking, right?”

  Gloria looked outside as the sun slipped over the horizon. “Johnny likes me exactly the way I am.”

  “He’s such a simple man.”

  Footsteps crept down the stairs. “Mama?”

  “Yes, Angel?” All right! Let’s watch a movie!

  “Do I have to watch a movie tonight?” Angel asked.

  Okay, let’s not. That stupid book. I never should have bought it. “We could just watch some TV, baby. The Discovery Channel or the National Geographic Channel maybe.”

  “I want to read my book until bedtime,” Angel said.

  Gloria heard a page turning. Geez. No wonder she crept down the stairs. She didn’t want to lose her place. “You know you can stay up late tonight. You can read that book anytime.”

  Silence. Another page turned. “I’m going to go to bed early tonight.”

  “With her flashlight,” Marion whispered.

  “But we’re having pizza later,” Gloria said. “Don’t you want some pizza?”

  “I’m not hungry, Mama.”

  Foul-smelling tombs of ancient dead people are more interesting than eating pizza and watching an adventure movie with her mama and grandma. “But you picked out the movies, Angel.”

  “I can watch them anytime,” Angel said.

  I can’t win, Gloria thought.

  “We’ll save you some pizza, baby,” Marion said. “You go up and enjoy that new book.”

  “Thanks, Grandma!”

  Footsteps zipped up the stairs.

  I hate it when she does that! “Mama, I was handling it.”

  Marion smiled. “I just wanted her to know who loves her most in this house.” She stared at the DVD box. “Which one do you want to watch first?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Marion read the backs of all four DVDs, eventually comparing the first movie to the last. “Harrison Ford has aged pretty well. He’s kind of sexy for an old fart, ain’t he?”

  “I don’t care what we watch, Mama.”

  Marion tore open Raiders of the Lost Ark. “Let’s watch him when he was young first. It’ll warm you up for later.”

  “Whatever.”

  Just what I wanted to do to “warm up” for Johnny, Gloria thought. Watching some overeducated people searching for ancient stuff—

  “Ooh,” Marion said. “I bet they filmed part of this in Egypt. Look at the sand on the cover. Is that one of the pyramids?”

  I hope, Gloria thought glumly, that they all run headfirst into a pyramid and die.

  22

  Johnny stared down at a boy about the same age as Angel in a kitchen smaller than Johnny’s while the boy’s mother searched somewhere else in the small apartment for money to pay him.

  I hope it’s not another sock. The last one the rich snob gave me didn’t fit me at all and made a lousy sock puppet. Even the mice wouldn’t play with it.

  “What’s your name?” Johnny asked.

  “Kevin.”

  “I’m Johnny.”

  Kevin’s bony mama, all of five feet tall and no more than ninety pounds, returned to the kitchen holding out a baggie full of change. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  Mousy. She is a mousy woman who pays me … not nearly enough. Those are mostly pennies. Johnny noticed nothing really about the kitchen. Nothing on the counters, nothing in the sink, two unfinished, mismatched chairs on either side of a table made level by … a sock. No wonder I got the baggie tonight.

  Johnny took the baggie, weighing it against this woman’s obvious poverty. “Feels right. Thank you, ma’am. Enjoy your pizza, Kevin.”

  Kevin wasted no time ripping open the box and inhaling half a slice.

  Kevin’s mama followed Johnny to the door. “I know I’m a little short, but I promise—”

  “It’s all right,” Johnny said. He pulled out several old $2-off and two-for-one coupons, handing all but a $2-off coupon to her. “This will cover the difference.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Not a problem.”

  “It’s just that it’s been so hard since …” She looked around the little room as if trying to get Kevin’s father to materialize on a green sofa that first breathed in the 1960s.

  “You don’t have to explain,” Johnny said. “Really. Just ask for Johnny whenever you call, okay? You call, and I’ll take your order when I’m in the store. If I’m not there, call back later.” And Hector will never know how much money he’s losing.

  “Okay.”

  As he looked in the back of the Vega for his next delivery—a supreme, extra meat for Randy—Johnny decided that mousy lady and son should get a spot in his book, too. While Kevin gorged on the pizza his mother paid for with pennies, his mother evaporated into a couch that had once held memories of a home.

  Where is this coming from? I wish I had my laptop with me.

  He stared only a moment at Randy’s pizza, picked it up, and returned to mousy lady’s door.

  She opened the door.

  “I had an extra pizza in my car,” Johnny said. “It might be a little cold, but I think Kevin will like it.”

  Mousy lady started crying.

  Johnny handed her the pizza. “I’m, um, I’m going to need to use your phone. Is that okay?”

  “Yes. It’s by the couch.”

  Johnny stood away from the couch as he called Hector, not wanting to give mousy lady any ideas. “It’s Johnny.”

  “What happened now?” Hector demanded.

  “I, uh, flipped my next order,” he whispered. “Could you remake a large supreme extra meat for me?”

  “You did what?”

  “Look, I flipped Randy’s pizza, and unless you want Randy calling you …”

  “I remake it. Bye.”

  Click.

  Johnny hung up and was glad to see mousy lady eating, too. He waved, and she mouthed, “Thank you.”

  Back at Señor Pizza, Hector was simultaneously answering phones, making pizzas, and folding boxes. “There is Randy’s pizza—Señor Pizza, can you hold, please?—and you owe me thirteen-fifty.”

  Johnny put the baggie on the counter.

  “She paid you like that? You must demand all customers pay you like normal people—Señor Pizza, please hold.”

  “Money is money, Hector,” Johnny said.

  “You have no backbone, Johnny. Hold please.”

  “Yeah, I’m a real softie.” He handed Hector two crumples ones.

  “What is this for?”

  “The pizza I flipped. It cost you two dollars to make.”

  “Was a large supreme extra meat! Oh, I am sorry I yell. We are very busy. Can you hold, please?”

  All the lights on the phone glowed, and Johnny smiled. He tossed two quarters onto the counter. “This is for the electricity.”

  “You owe me—”

  “No,” Johnny said. Just flexing a little backbone, chief.

  “No?”

  Dude, you don’t want to tick off your only driver now, do you? “The phone’s lit up, you have a full oven, I see ten pies that need to travel, the night is young, and there’s Randy out there waiting …”

&nbs
p; Hector’s body shook. “You just … be more careful.” He slid the quarters into the register.

  Johnny made two stacks, putting Randy’s pizza on the bottom where it was sure to get flattened. “Hey, Hector?” he yelled from the door.

  “You still here? Hold please. What, Johnny?”

  Nice attitude. “Tell everybody ninety-plus.”

  “I lose business if I say that!”

  “Add more time if the folks you have on hold want a delivery. And Marion needs two large extra sauce, extra cheese to be delivered to her house by nine. Make them for me, and if she calls, tell her I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Hector forced a smile. “Is Marion one of the two women you were with the other day?”

  “One of three young women, actually. Later.”

  Always leave ‘em guessing.

  Bitter winds shook the Vega and ripped through Johnny when he finally got to Randy’s house at least ninety minutes late. Good thing I remembered my gloves this time, Johnny thought, and thank God it’s cold. Randy has to be wearing clothes tonight.

  Johnny was, as usual, wrong.

  Randy was already in the holiday spirit. He sported red and green shorts that could have fit a four-year-old. Randy also held out a green margarita as he opened the door.

  “Ho, ho, ho, Hector,” Randy said. “Or should I say, ‘Feliz Navidad’?”

  He still thinks I’m Guatemalan. “Thirteen-fifty.” It’s mid-November, you—no, don’t twist! I have enough bad dreams as it is!

  Randy pulled a roll of quarters from inside his shorts.

  Another reason to hate the holidays. Johnny exchanged the pizza for the roll of quarters. “Should I keep the change?”

  Randy giggled. “Only if you turn around very slowly.”

  I’m wearing a coat. What could he see? Johnny turned around slowly. “Have a good evening, Randy.” And I hope he returns those shorts to their rightful owner.

  “Jingle those bells, Hector!” Randy called.

  Johnny decided that Randy couldn’t possibly go into his book as is. Unless he wears a scarf, Johnny thought. And those shaggy snow boots.