The Interruption of Everything

by Terry McMillan

  “Gotta get to work,” he says. “Have you been out jogging?”

  Now she’s blushing! Even behind those giant spectacles I can see her eyelids fluttering. “I guess you could say that,” she says proudly. She ought to stop. Poor Prezelle. Lord help him. I wish I had a scripture for this occasion, but I don’t.

  “Well,” she continues, “I really walk the mall, but I’m getting to be so fast it feels like I’m jogging.”

  “Well you certainly look healthy and in top form and that’s a pretty snazzy outfit you’re wearing.”

  “Why, thank you, Gordon.”

  “You’re quite welcome,” he says.

  As Gordon gets up and heads out of the kitchen, Arthurine barely gives him enough room to pass. I give her a slight push when I brush up against her.

  That’s when the phone rings. Hallelujah!

  “Good seeing you again, Marilyn,” Gordon says, once we get to the front door. “And please give some thought to those craft fairs or eBay. I’d look into some if not all of these avenues if I were you.”

  The phone rings again.

  “Well, it certainly can’t hurt,” I say.

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  “Arthurine! Would you please answer the phone?”

  “I was just about to!”

  “I’d buy something from you in a heartbeat even though you did promise to give me something and I was hoping it was going to be today, but I’m a patient man. I can wait. And I’ll be back.”

  “Hello. Hold on a minute, please,” she says, covering the mouthpiece with one hand. Now Arthurine is standing in the entry. “Gordon!”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “I just have to tell you that we think a lot alike because I’ve been telling her she should sell some of this stuff, too, but she won’t listen to me. Maybe you have more influence. How well do you know this chile?”

  “Arthurine, just answer the phone, would you?”

  “Okay! Hope to see you again soon!” she says and disappears into the kitchen.

  I wave good-bye to him like he’s going off to war or something. But before I can get back inside, I hear Arthurine asking, “What happened?”

  I run into the kitchen. “Who is it, Arthurine? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Spencer,” she says.

  My heart stops.

  “Well, it’s not Spencer on the phone but the girl telling me he broke his wrist or something or another on that board. Here,” she says, handing me the phone. “You talk to her.”

  “Brianna?”

  “Hello, Mrs. Grimes. First off, Spencer’s gonna be all right. He’s just getting out of surgery.”

  “Surgery? Surgery for what?”

  “Well, apparently he broke his wrist in quite a few places and they couldn’t just put a cast on it so they had to go in and make some adjustments.”

  “What kind of adjustments?”

  “I’m not completely sure, but the doctor said something about he might need to put some kind of pins in there to hold his bones together.”

  “So where are you guys?”

  “We’re in the emergency room.”

  “I know that, Brianna, but what hospital?”

  “I’m not real sure but I’ll get the name in a second. It all just happened so fast, I can’t even believe we’re up here in these mountains in an emergency room.”

  “Where is Spencer right this minute, Brianna?”

  “He should be going into the recovery room in a few minutes.”

  “Okay. Where are all the boys?”

  “They’re sitting out here in the waiting room with me.”

  “Which wrist is it?”

  “I don’t know. I have to think a second. It’s his right one.”

  “It would be. Is there any way I can talk to him?”

  “Not yet. He asked me not to call you or his dad until after the surgery. And that’s what I’m doing. Hold on a minute, Mrs. Grimes. They just called my name. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

  She hangs up.

  Arthurine’s eyes are closed, which means she’s praying. “He’ll be just fine,” she says opening them. “You want me to try to reach Leon at work on the other line?”

  “No!”

  “Okay. I suppose there’s no need to get him all upset until we know what’s going on.”

  When the phone rings again, I answer before the ring finishes. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Mom! It’s Sim. Guess what.”

  “Hi, Sim. I really want to know but your brother just broke his wrist snowboarding and has had surgery and he’s up in Tahoe in the emergency room and I’m waiting by the phone to hear what his prognosis is, so can I call you right back, baby?”

  “Sure, Mom. What an idiot. I bet he was showing off for what’s-her-name. Call me back later. Love you.”

  I hang up and it rings again. “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Grimes?”

  I want to say, don’t you recognize my voice. “Yes, Brianna. Is Spencer’s wrist all right?”

  “Well, sort of. He wants to talk to you even though he might not make a whole lot of sense because they gave him quite a bit of pain medication. Here you go.”

  “Mom, don’t freak out. It was just an accident. But I’m alive. It’s just a stupid wrist. But check it out, I look like I might be an alien or something.”

  “What are you talking about, Spencer?”

  “You’ve gotta see this shit. It’s so fucking cool. I’ve got like metal screws going right into my fucking wrist, man, and I can’t even feel it, man. This is so fucking deep.”

  “Spencer! Please put Brianna back on the phone.”

  Apparently he heard me and understood.

  “Hello again, Mrs. Grimes. I apologize for Spencer, but he’s really out of it. Anyway, what he was trying to tell you is that they’ve had to put this apparatus called an external fixator on his wrist and he’s got these metal-like rods holding his bones together.”

  “You mean inside or out?”

  “Well, both. You can see where they go right through his skin.”

  “Oh, my God. And how long will he have to wear this?”

  “Eight weeks.”

  “When can he leave?”

  “We’re not sure yet if he’s going to have to stay here all night, but he’s probably not going to be able to do much traveling tomorrow, I wouldn’t think. But why don’t we do this. As soon as the doctor gets back, which they just told me won’t be for another four or five hours because he’s got another surgery scheduled, I can have him call you and explain everything and see what he thinks is best for Spence to do. How’s that sound?”

  “It sounds okay. It sounds okay. How are you holding up?”

  “I just want to go home. I don’t like snow. It’s too cold up here and I hardly saw any black people. I don’t like it up here, I don’t care how pretty it is.”

  “I don’t much blame you. But thank you for being there for my son, Brianna.”

  “You’re quite welcome, ma’am. Bye-bye.”

  I hang up.

  “Don’t worry, Marilyn. A wrist can heal,” Arthurine says, which is about the smartest thing I’ve heard her say in a long time.

  “That’s true.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at work right now?”

  “I wasn’t feeling very good this morning.”

  “Well, that’s understandable,” she says, heading back toward Snuffy’s bed. “Considering what all you’ve been through.”

  Chapter 14

  That’s not a motorcycle I hear on the other side of the wall, is it? I’m in my workshop where I’ve been killing time for the last three and a half hours waiting to hear from the doctor. Where I mindlessly threw together two ridiculous pillows that weren’t worth stuffing. I wouldn’t even give them away, which is precisely why I tossed them in the trash. I have no idea what I’m sewing now.

  When the door from the garage opens, my foot freezes on the machine pedal. That better not be him.
My hands drop into my lap and I just sit here. Maybe Leon’s going crazy or something. Or he’s having a nervous breakdown and needs help. I certainly can’t help him.

  Knock. Knock.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s me,” Arthurine says, standing in the doorway. “Leon came home from work a little early today. He said he wasn’t feeling good either. Maybe you both are coming down with the same thing. I’m staying away from the two of you, that’s for sure. There’s a trip to Reno next week that Prezelle has invited me to, so I can’t afford to get sick.

  “I wouldn’t miss this for anything. I’ve never been inside a casino, but I don’t think the Lord will mind if I play the slot machines. Anyway, Leon was looking for you, and I figured you might be in here. You look upset, Marilyn. Don’t worry, Spencer’s going to be all right, baby.”

  “I’m not really worrying, Arthurine. What are Leon’s symptoms?”

  “He said he’s having pains in his chest and shortness of breath.”

  “Maybe he’s having a heart attack.”

  “Don’t even think that, Marilyn.”

  “Anything’s possible.”

  “I checked his forehead. He don’t have a fever. Why don’t you go on up and check on him? See for yourself.”

  “I will in a minute. I have to make a phone call first,” I say, and pick up the portable and press line two.

  “Well, it didn’t help with me telling him about Spencer.”

  “I’m sure that would send him over the edge.”

  “Marilyn?”

  “What?”

  “He loves all three of his children. You know that.”

  “Of course he does. He loves them so much he wants to be morphed.”

  “Wants to be what?”

  “Never mind. Did he tell you he’d been at work?”

  “Well, no. But why wouldn’t he be?”

  “Why don’t you go back upstairs and ask him where he really came from, Arthurine?”

  “What’s going on, Marilyn?”

  “Go ask your loving, caring, thoughtful, Mac Daddy son.”

  She looks terribly confused, and I didn’t mean to do or say anything to her about any of this before Leon did or at least until the air cleared and I got my bearings. But shit happens. She turns and walks away. I call Paulette on the boys’ line. “How you doing?” I ask.

  “Marilyn?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “What’s wrong? I can hear it in your voice and you know damn well you never call here asking how I’m doing. What’s wrong? You haven’t gotten an infection or anything, have you?”

  “No. It would be nice if it was that simple.”

  “Is it Leon?”

  “You always were clairvoyant, Paulette.”

  “What’s he gone and done? Wait. Let me guess: told you he’s leaving because he’s bored and now that the kids are all grown-up he realizes he’s missed out on the most exciting time of his life because he got married so young and has been overburdened with the demands of it all and now here’s his one chance to get it back and have some damn fun before he dies an old man and of course he has met some sweet young thang completely by accident because of course he had no intention of cheating on you but she was the one who put the radar out and came after him and he couldn’t believe it when he didn’t resist her advances but he was even more surprised when he had to repeat the shit over and over because boy oh boy, she put no demands on him whatsoever, none, and she just appreciates him for who he is and what he does and she makes him feel interesting and smart and desirable and he’d forgotten what this felt like with you and hell, she makes him feel twenty-five again and even though he doesn’t think this little interlude is anything serious or if it’s going anywhere but all he knows is that he has to leave to see for himself, to fill in the blanks, and he’s sorry for hurting you because of course he still loves you. Is that about right?”

  I want to cry but I’m laughing too hard. “You’ve got it just about right. Anyway, first this asshole tells me over coffee this morning that he might need a change of scenery from his job, and I basically tell him that I understand how things can get a little stale, but then when he tells me he thinks he may have to leave, of course I’m thinking he’s talking about his job, which he is, but then as a little fucking addendum, he tacks me on, too.”

  “I’ve been through this one once and that was all it took. You don’t know how many women have come into my store spending money like crazy because they’re depressed and feeling hopeless and ugly, like they’ve outlived their usefulness because their husbands have surprised them this very same way. Like Puff the Magic Fucking Dragon—poof!—they just up and leave: kids and all. I listen to their stories, which are almost all identical, and I take their sad credit cards, and try to make them feel pretty and necessary. Men are just so predictable. This shit must be their rite of passage to middle age or something because they all seem to go a little nuts after they hit their forties. Are you okay over there?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. But this is the kicker, Paulette. At first I get in my car and leave and then I turn that sucker around and drive back up that hill and march in here and tell him since he’s the one who wants to leave then he’s the one who should go. So he does. This is after I threaten him of course, but guess what?”

  “What, girl?”

  “The motherfucker came back!”

  “Home?”

  “Yes! He’s upstairs right now!”

  “Doing what?”

  “I don’t know. Arthurine just told me he’s coming down with something and I hope it’s terminal cancer and he just came back so he could spend his last waking hours with his family. I can get the shovel out of the garage and start digging his grave in the backyard.”

  “Shut up, Marilyn! I know you’re just upset. But why did he come back I wonder?”

  “Because he’s stupid, that’s why. He probably doesn’t even remember saying it. That’s a line he’s been using a lot around here lately after he does or says something off the wall. Anyway, I hate his guts and I want a divorce.”

  “Slow down, Marilyn. Leon’s not quite up there with some of these other sleazebags. Maybe he is going through a tough patch.”

  “Well, somebody else is helping him get through it.”

  “It happens. But sometimes it’s just a silly fling.”

  “What if I were to have a silly little fling? Do you think he’d be as understanding? Huh?”

  “You’ve got a point. They can usually dish it out but they never seem to be able to take it. And just for the record. Almost all of these deserted wives take the suckers back after they get tired of playing with Barbies and come to their senses.”

  “Not me. If you leave, you’re gone. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about Mr. Corndog anymore. Spencer broke his wrist snowboarding today and I’ve been waiting by this phone to see when he can come home and oh shit!”

  “What?”

  “I forgot to call Simeon back.”

  “He’s in one piece I hope?”

  “Yeah. I swear, Paulette, when it rains it pours, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s God’s way of making us pay attention, so deal with it, Marilyn.”

  “I’m just not sure how, right this minute.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s always the hardest road. Not the easy one. Look. I’ve got three customers standing here. Call me back if you need me or if anything changes, okay?”

  “Okay. And please don’t tell Miss Bunny any of this. Not yet. I don’t feel like hearing her psychobabble.”

  “I won’t. Just remember, sometimes what looks like the end is really the beginning.”

  The beginning of what?

  I don’t want to go upstairs but I go anyway. Might as well see what he has to say. And who knows, maybe he is sick. But even if he is, why didn’t he let his girlfriend play Nurse Betty since she apparently has restorative powers. The door to our bedroom is open. He’s sitting up on top of the burgundy comf
orter, on the phone, obviously talking to Simeon. I just stand here and listen.

  “Yes, Son, I think that’s great! An agent? You guys must be really good. At first I was upset when I heard you were changing majors, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that you’re only young once and you should take all the risks you can right now while you have time on your side. I mean it. What have you got to lose? There are so many roads out here you can take and you can keep changing them until you find the one you want to travel down. I know. Me? Truthfully? I think I may be burned out. Yes, the job and just my life. Well, I’ve been doing things I can’t explain before thinking about who it might hurt. I don’t do it on purpose and it’s scary because I feel like I’m out of control. Sure, she sees it. No, she can’t. I don’t think I need a shrink, Simeon. Sometimes you have to step outside of yourself in order to see inside. I agree. Music is a great tool. I just have to do whatever it takes to get hold of myself before I destroy everything I’ve worked for and the people I love. Yes, I still do. Very much so. Look, Son, your mother’s just come in and I’m sure she wants to say hello to you. I’d like to hear your music so don’t be surprised when I fly down to check you out. Good. Spencer’s going to be fine. He’s always been the daredevil.”

  “I’ll call him back,” I say, because I don’t want to follow up half of what he just said.

  “Sim, Mom’s a little shook up and out of sorts, so she said she’ll call you back later. Okay. I love you, Son.”

  He puts the phone back into the cradle and looks at me.

  I look at him.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  “I’m glad to hear it, Leon. That should pretty much fix everything, then, huh?”

  “No. But I really didn’t mean some of the things I said.”

  “Yes, you did. You meant every word of it. And it’s okay. I meant what I said.”

  “I didn’t intend for this to happen like this, Marilyn. I swear it.”

  “I already know the whole spiel so don’t even bother repeating it for me, Leon.”