Dad is in a great mood. He is bragging to our neighbors about Tommy’s lacrosse career. I lean over to Tommy. He lets me rest my head on his shoulder. I whisper, “I thought you quit lacrosse two years ago?” Tommy says he quit three years ago. “It’s whatever,” he says. Dad shakes the maître d’s hand and tells him about how this is his favorite restaurant in the world and how he came here twenty years ago and now he has brought his family. It’s nice to see Dad happy.
Dad drinks and drinks and drinks. Mom only shakes her head. We eat about a pound of fondue each. It is warm in my stomach.
Dad’s drunk. Tommy’s drunk. I don’t think that I am drunk, but then I try to stand up and cannot. Because Mom and I are on the other side of the table, we have to climb over the spilled cheese and the empty baby bottles. Mom and I are directed by the maître d’ to stand on our bench. Dad says to lean back and he will catch me, but I am afraid. Tommy says, “Dad has lost his mind.” One of the wait staff comes over and guides me back over the table. It is easier than I think it will be. Mom is the only one left on the far side of the table. Her eyes are wide; she looks like she might cry. Dad teases Mom. Mom attempts to stand up, but she sits back down again.
The maître d’ offers his hand to Mom. Mom won’t take it. The maître d’ tells Mom that he will walk her through the process of getting back over the table. She doesn’t speak, she only nods. He tells Mom to stand on the bench, he waves his arms aggressively upwards. Mom complies. All of the other people from the restaurant are yelling encouraging things to Mom. Mom looks tall. “Now stand on the table,” the maître d’ says. Mom stands on the table. “Good, turn around.” Mom turns around. The maître d’ enlists the help of the remaining wait staff. They grasp one another’s arms. They make a sort of stretcher. “Now fall back!” the maître d’ says. Mom turns to face the maître d’. She looks around wildly. Dad sings, “She’ll never do it. Never do it. Never do it. Never do it.” Mom falls back. She doesn’t even bend her knees. A wonderful sort of squeal escapes from Mom’s mouth. The wait staff catch her. Tommy and I cheer wildly. Everyone is clapping and hugging. Tommy’s got his arm around me. Dad is still singing, “Never do it. Never do it. Never do it.” Dad kisses the maître d’ on the lips. I see him. Tommy sees him. We look at each other. Tommy looks horrified.
Outside, the stars are blinking in the sky. Dad is skipping down the street. “Did you see that he kissed that man, maaaaan?” I ask Tommy. My tongue is clumsy. Tommy still has his arm around me, he tightens his grip on my shoulder. I am warm. Mom is trying to reign Dad in. Dad tries to kiss her on the lips. I have never seen my parents kiss on the lips. Mom pushes Dad’s chest. She is gentle. Dad gets mad. The change is abrupt, violent. Dad yells in the middle of the street. He says, “You would rather have a colonoscopy than let me touch you!” People everywhere are staring. Tommy says, “Oh God.” The stars blink more rapidly. I tell this to
Tommy and he says that I am drunk.
Mom tries to get hold of Dad’s arm. Dad pushes her and she falls to the ground. It is horrible to see. Months later, when Tommy and I talk about this trip, I will still remember exactly how Mom looked on the Paris ground. Mom’s hands are bleeding; they are dripping red onto her skirt. Dad looks angry. “Oh come on Mary,” he says. Dad is standing over Mom. “I didn’t even push you hard!” Dad tries to lift Mom off the ground. Mom is staring at her hands; she begins to cry. Dad crouches on the ground next to Mom. Mom tells Dad to get away from her. Suddenly, Tommy is there, standing between Mom and Dad. I know what Tommy is about to do before he does it. Tommy punches Dad in the face. Dad falls to the ground. Mom pulls her feet into her body. Dad looks angry and hurt and surprised and betrayed. I think he will get back up and punch Tommy. He doesn’t. Tommy is crying now. He is crying so hard he has to crouch onto the ground. He cries into his knees. I am alone, standing, looking at them all on the ground. I don’t cry.
In that moment, I hate them all.
From the ground, Dad tells Tommy and me that he and Mom are getting a divorce. He says he is sorry, and that he won’t be around much longer. Tommy screams and pulls his own hair. He says, “You ruin fucking everything!” I grab Tommy’s hands from his head. I am afraid. Tommy is breathing heavily. He is crushing my hand, but I don’t let go. Tommy looks me in the eye, he says, “I am gay. Tonight was supposed to be about me.” Tommy looks at Dad, who is still on the ground. Tommy says, “I hope this destroys our family.” Tommy pushes my hand away from him. “Tommy,” I say. I reach for him again, but he is already far away from me, running, screaming into the night.
Mom gets up off the ground. Dad remains on the ground. He doesn’t look at me. Mom places her hand on my arm. Her touch is light, but I shake her off. “I hate you,” I tell her. I can see her folding into herself. She doesn’t say anything. She walks away, in the opposite direction as Tommy.
Dad and I are alone. The street is quiet now. I want to crumple buildings into each other. Dad gets up. He says that I shouldn’t have said that to Mom, that she loves me, that she hasn’t done anything wrong. He looks at me, shakes his head, grabs the back of his neck, takes a deep breath. “Look,” he says, “you and I can fix this.” He says he needs my help. I back away from him, I need to find Tommy. I tell Dad, “I never want to see you again.” At the time, it is true. At the time, it is the only thing I know.
Chapter 2
When Maisie won tickets to the Suffolk Zoo’s Annual Stay a Night! Maisie said she was going to invite Heidi G and Stacy B, but Mom said that Maisie could take Bane and me or she could take nobody. “Fine, I’ll take nobody,” Maisie said, but she is afraid of everything, especially anything exciting like gorillas or tigers, so here we are, gathered around a kiosk that smells like lion piss, waiting for Call-Me-Thomas to open the gates and let us go wild.
Along with Maisie, Bane and me, three other kids pace outside the gates, saying things like, “I think I heard the howler monkey,” and “Mom, can you leave now? You’re embarrassing me.”
Just as Thomas finishes collecting child-release forms from parents, three teenagers lumber out of a beat-up van. The two boys are smoking cigarettes and the girl is rolling up her skirt. When she bends down to adjust the strap on her sandal, I can see that her underwear is grey, substantial, like the kind they sell at Costco, four-for-five-dollars. “Check out her granny- panties,” Bane whispers, and I laugh because at least he’s talking to me and not Maisie.
I hate Maisie because she is the most condescending person in the world and because whenever you make a deal with her, she goes back on her word. If you ever lend her anything, she’ll never give it back. She’ll convince Mom and Dad that it was she who lent it in the first place. Sometimes she’ll even convince you. Maisie never gets in trouble. Bane doesn’t get into trouble either, but at least he has the decency of taking my side from time to time.
The three teenagers have the word “counselor” printed on matching neon shirts, but the girl has cut a large V-shape out of the front of her shirt so that the text reads: coun– or. “Ah,” says Thomas, “this is Kyran, Michael and Julia,” Kyran and Michael ignore Thomas, but Julia blows a bubble of gum and says Hey-ya, “They’ll be your chaperones for the evening.”
“Check out her tits!” whispers Bane. “Oh, wow,” I say.
Maisie hears and says, “I’m going to pretend not to know either or you!” Then she struts over to a girl who’s got purple hair and patches safety-pinned onto her overnight bag.
The girl says, “Hey,” and Maisie says, “Wish my mom would let me dye my hair like yours!” Besides Bane, Maisie and I, there’s the purple hair girl, and two brothers from Sweden. The counselors are all on their cell phones, not looking at us, not even talking to each other.
Maisie and the purple hair girl are still whispering and laughing. I guess I’m standing too close to Bane, ‘cause he grabs my shoulders and says, “Stay here!” Then he takes several steps to the right and I’m left, standing alone.
A wo
man wearing safari shorts and a giant stuffed animal python around her neck beckons Thomas towards the gift shop. He holds up a finger to indicate: I’ll be right there. Then he turns to us and says, “Well, that’s about it kids!” even though he hasn’t really said anything at all. “Listen to your chaperones. They’ll tell you what you need to know.”
When Thomas is gone, Julia asks, “So what are your names?”
We’re all looking at one another, wondering who is going to be the first to speak when Kyran throws a hairy arm over Julia, then squeezes one of her boobs. She giggles. He pops the bubble she’s blown between his fingers and says, “Alright squirts! Here’s the deal. Don’t talk to us. Don’t bother us. Don’t get your gross little germs on us. Dinner is in an hour near those picnic benches. If you’re late, we’ll eat your food.”
Julia whispers something to Kyran who pulls her towards the gift shop, his hand cupped around her butt. We all see, but nobody says anything about it.
Michael says, “The gorillas are down that way, they’re called Kamba and– Be good, stay together!” Then he scampers after Kyran and Julia.
As an afterthought, Julia sticks her neck back out of the shop to call: “Have fun, go wild!”
The girl with the purple hair is the first to speak. She says her name is Indie, but I don’t think that’s her real name. I think she is trying to look cool by calling herself Indie, but if I don’t befriend her, Maisie will, and then I’ll have nobody to talk to.
Both Indie and Maisie ask, “So, how old is everyone?” at the exact same time, and then they look at each other, neither smiling.
Maisie says, “Well, my sister is nine, and Bane’s nine too. But they aren’t twins. Don’t ask them if they’re twins.”
Indie says, “I’m eleven,” and then Maisie says, “Oh, I’m eleven too. What month were you born in?”
The siblings are jabbering in Swedish, and I’ve just got up my nerve to ask them if they know English when one of the boys asks, “This is very boring, yes? Who wants to see the gorillas?”
Maisie says, “I was about to suggest we look at the gorillas,” and Indie says, “Well, follow me then,” and they take off down the hill.
I trail a little behind the group so I don’t have to listen to Maisie explain about how she’s on this wonderful mock trial team, how the team is third in the nation, and how she has to wear these fancy black shoes when she goes to her competitions. I am no longer allowed to be on the mock trial team because one time, in response to the defense, I asked, “Well, how the fuck should I know?”
At the bottom of the hill, Bane asks, “Do you guys hear that?” and Indie asks, “Hear what?” Bane lowers his voice so it’s all creepy, and says, “Sounds like the flapping of giant bird wings.” Then he starts moving his arms like they are snakes. The two other boys look at Bane, then they look at each other, shrug, and start flapping their arms too. Maisie takes a couple of steps closer to me. I tell her she is a big baby.
“Listen,” says Maisie, just before we get to the Gorilla pavilion, “I think we should elect a leader, since we all have to stick together, I think there needs to be one person deciding where we go and when.”
“Why do we all have to stay together?” I ask. “I’ll be leader,” says Indie.
“Actually, I was thinking I’d be leader,” says Maisie. Indie says, “Well, let’s vote,” and Maisie agrees.
Before we vote, Maisie catches my eye and, pointing at herself, she mouths, “Vote for me,” before gesturing to a cartoon lion above text that says, Caution, lions spray 5-7 feet. To make sure her point has been made, she mouths, “Vote for me or I’ll throw you to the lions!”
Only Maisie, Indie and I end up voting because Bane is preoccupied by learning the names of the two Swedish kids. “Vilgot,” says the taller of the Swedish boys, “Igar,” says the other. “Vilgot, Igar, Vilgot, Igar,” says Bane.
Maisie is elected leader and Indie gets real pouty before Maisie tells her she can be second in command. I ask, “Can I be a lieutenant or something?” Maisie says, “Not a chance,” and Indie says, “That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.” I don’t know why, but all of a sudden there are tears in my eyes, and I have to look upwards to stop the tears from spilling down my cheeks. Bane sees. Maisie sees, but she doesn’t care one bit.
Bane says he is going to see the gorillas and Vilgot and Igar follow him, talking about motorcycles and the beers they’ve tried. I slow down, waiting to join Maisie and Indie, but when they catch me up, I hear Indie whisper, “She is pathetic,” so I bend and act like I am tying my shoe. Maisie doesn’t do anything but laugh and laugh. By the time they are down the hill, Indie’s got her arm around Maisie’s shoulder, drawling, “You’ve got the prettiest curls. I’d die for those curls.”
I stand in the middle of the hill, not wanting to be a follower, not wanting to be left behind. Kyran and the rest of the counselors come up behind me. Kyran asks, “Aren’t you one of ours?” and when I say yes, he says, “Well, come on, apparently we have to watch you.”
Maisie and Indie are up close against the railing that wraps around the gorilla’s enclosure. Indie asks, “Oh, oh aren’t they gross?” about the two gorillas who are sitting up, almost on top of the glass. One of the gorillas is much smaller than the other. When I point to her and say, “She must be the female,” Indie asks, “So?”
Bane says, “I bet you’re right,” and Indie and Maisie roll their eyes. Then Bane reads from the little sign next to the railing, “The big one is called Richard, and the female is Kamba. And look,” he says, pointing to a pink piece of paper, “it says Richard is forty-five today.”
Julia says, “They’re cute!”
Michael mimics Julia, then he calls her a big dork.
Kyran says, “Look babe, he’s–yep, he’s jerking off!” Then he grabs Julia and makes room for her to stand in front of him. The female gorilla starts walking away from the male gorilla, but she doesn’t even get three feet away before Richard pulls her into him, holding her by the neck.
Michael says, “Oh shit man, oh shit!”
“They’re fucking,” says Michael, “they’re actually fucking!” Then he takes out his phone and starts filming them. “Ah, man!” he says, “I’m, like, fulfilling my dream of being a porn director!”
Kyran laughs, but Julia says, “There are children here.” Then Kyran starts thrusting into Julia, which makes Michael laugh even harder.
Julia cries, “Oh stop! Oh stop it!” but that only makes Kyran thrust harder.
“Oh my god! Dude!” says Michael, turning to film Kyran. He laughs, then he says, “Dude, you’re crazy!”
Julia turns around and pushes Kyran’s chest, “Fuck off,” she says.
Kyran stumbles backwards, dramatically. Then he looks around at all of us kids, and asks, “What the fuck?”
“I’m going to get a pretzel,” says Julia. She takes a flask out from her pocket and swigs from it. “Don’t follow me.”
Michael says, “Girls, man,” then he claps Kyran on the shoulder.
“What a drama queen,” Kyran says, “I mean, what did I even do?” He spits on the ground. He sees me watching him. He asks, “What do you want squirt? You want a pretzel?”
Bane, the Swedish siblings, and I are all sitting on a bench near the Dip and Dots cart. We’ve all got these huge, soft pretzels, and I even got the pretzel guy to give me a side of hot, melty cheese for dipping. Maisie and Indie don’t have pretzels because Indie said, “Actually, I don’t eat gluten,” and Maisie said, “Oh, me either.”
When I come back with my pretzel, Maisie asks, “Is that cheese?”
Indie says, “Oh my god, that is so disgusting!” She calls to Vilgot and Igar, “Look at her cheese! It’s bright orange!” Then she turns to me and asks, “You’re not actually going to eat that, are you?” I’m about to say no, I’m not really going to eat the melty cheese, I would never eat the melty cheese, when Maisie says she’s goi
ng to find out if the café is open, and if they serve salads. Indie declares her a genius and the two of them skip off, their arms linked, Maisie asking Indie about the meaning behind each of her patches.
“Where are they going?” asks Kyran, saddling up to me. “Did they say where they were going?”
“To get a salad at the café,” I say. Kyran punches me on the shoulder, but not too hard.
He tells me I should be a giraffe since my face is so long.
“It’s their necks that are long!” I tell him, but he’s already started after Maisie and Indie.
Thomas has come around so we all have to sit on one of the grassy hills near the little zoo train and eat sandwiches and/or put on sweatshirts and/or use the bathroom in groups of two or three. Thomas asks, “How’s it going?” and I say, “We saw gorillas having sex,” which makes Kyran howl with laughter.
“Ok!” says Thomas, “Glad everything is going well!” He gives us each our own sleeping bag and pillow. Then he backs away from us while waving and saying, “Have fun kids!
Welcome to the zoo!”
Kyran is sitting close to me, huffing and puffing while he tears up the grass. When Mom huffs and puffs like that, she is usually looking for someone to ask, “What’s wrong?” so she can give a monologue about everything that’s wrong in her life: how it’s so unfair that she always has to drop us kids off at school even though both she and Dad are busy with their jobs, how she can’t be expected to pay the bills and make dinner every night, she isn’t Superwoman for the love of fuck– Of frick. I ask Kyran, “What’s wrong?”
Family Rules Page 2