by APRIL ASHEIM
She tucked the envelope into her waistband and shredded the rest. It hurt like childbirth, but then she remembered the way Bob touched her, talked to her, made love to her, and the pain became butter over toasted bread. That hole in her chest seemed to fill up too, and she clutched her chest, to hold onto it.
"Goodbye, Ernie," she said, kissing the last letter and releasing it into the shredder. And she was surprised to find that no tears fell.
Twenty-Three
Sam held the phone to his ear, a constipated look on his face as Spring walked, messy-haired and blurry-eyed, into the kitchen. The patio door opened and Lanie entered the living room, followed closely by Bob.
"Look, Bob’s a dad!" Lanie pointed to a fat, pink creature cradled lovingly in Bob’s arms.
"Mom. Is that a pig?" Spring shook her head in disbelief.
"Of course, it’s a pig," Lanie said. "I knew I should have taken you to the zoo as a child."
Lanie led Bob and his pig back into her bedroom and Spring heard the click of the lock behind them.
"Your mother isn’t allowed to have pigs in the house," Sam said, placing his hand over the mouthpiece. "Go tell her."
Spring smoothed her hair into place. "You tell her. I’m late for work."
Sam scratched his head. "I’ve got other things going on right now. I guess we can deal with this later."
Spring paused. Sam wasn’t normally so complacent, especially about things he found repulsive. "Is everything okay?"
Sam listened to someone speaking on the phone for several moments before hanging up. He placed his hand on his forehead and made his way to a dining room chair and plopped himself down, staring absently at the wall in front of him.
"It’s Grandma Rosary. Her condition is worsening. They give her a few days. Week tops." He scratched his chin thoughtfully, running his fingers across his new stubble.
"Oh, Sam! I’m so sorry." Spring wasn’t sure what to say to make it better. She knew how much he loved the woman who had basically raised him since his mother’s divorce.
"That’s why we have to get married right away, Pookie. It’s her dying wish." Sam shifted his gaze from the spot on the wall to Spring. "You are all I have left."
When Spring entered the lobby of Teens in Trouble, Debbie was crying at her desk.
"Debbie, what’s wrong?" Spring asked. "Kimberly try and scalp you?"
Debbie shook her head and dried her face on her shirt. "No. Not Kimberly. It’s Roger. He’s...he’s called off the wedding."
"What?" Spring crouched low so that she was eye-level with her friend, who sat hunched over in an oversized, black, office chair. "What do you mean, called it off?"
"He says it’s too much. He thinks I’m more invested in planning our wedding than in being his wife." Debbie stopped crying long enough to sigh dramatically and a pile of invitations fluttered from the desk onto the floor. "Maybe it’s true," Debbie sniffed. "But is that so wrong? I’ve always had this fantasy of my wedding day. I just want everything to be perfect."
Spring allowed Debbie a few heavy sobs before speaking. "Debbie, if you love him, fight for him. But remember, marriage is for life. It lasts long after the wedding day is over."
Debbie nodded. "I know." The phone beeped and Spring could see that it was Kimberly’s line. "It’s probably for you," Debbie said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "She wanted to see you the moment you got in. I’m sorry."
Spring stood up. "I’ll be back in a bit, hopefully in one piece. If I disappear, call the police. I didn’t run away."
"It’s Friday," Kimberly said. "I want my answer."
Spring stared at her boss but said nothing.
Kimberly picked up a tube of red lipstick from her desk and applied it perfectly without looking in a mirror. Spring felt envy at the feat. "I’m not giving you my hair," Spring said. "This is extortion."
"Wow. You got balls. Maybe hanging out with the penis has done you some good," Kimberly said, tossing the lipstick into an open desk drawer. "It still doesn't change anything."
"I could go to Jane," Spring countered.
"You could," Kimberly agreed. "But let’s just say I have Jane wrapped around my finger." Kimberly winked and Spring felt a wave of disgust wash over her.
"Fire me, then. Let me get unemployment and move on with my life." Spring crossed her arms.
"Deliberate misconduct will not get you unemployment benefits, young lady."
"Let’s see what the unemployment agency says about this," Spring shot back defiantly, surprising herself at the force of her words.
Kimberly said nothing but stared at her in shock, obviously taken aback by Spring’s newfound courage.
"You know what, Kimberly?" Spring continued, unable to stop herself. "I got an even better idea. I quit."
Kimberly regained her voice. "You’re not serious."
"Aren’t I?" Spring turned towards the door and Kimberly caught her arm.
"Spring, you can’t go." Kimberly’s voice was shaky. "If you go, who is going to wear the condom outfit?"
Spring gave Kimberly a smug smile. "Well, think of it this way. If you are in costume no one’s gonna see that bald head of yours." Spring broke away and marched out the door to deliver the news to Debbie.
"It’s not going to be the same without you." Debbie said.
"You will be fine, Debs. Besides, it’s a temp job, remember? This was never supposed to be your career."
"I thought about what you said and you were right. I will fight for him."
Spring gave Debbie a warm smile. "I will miss this place. At least what it used to be like before we went Hollywood. Too bad you weren’t here then. It was a good place to work." She hugged her friend. "Let’s keep in touch."
"I never thought you’d be the one to blow up," said Debbie. "Somehow, I thought it would be me."
Spring laughed. "So did I."
Spring drove straight to Chloe’s. She knocked at the door three times and was about to give up when her sister answered, wearing nothing but a towel.
"Oh, thought you were the mailman," her sister said, sounding disappointed.
"Since when do you greet the mailman wearing a towel?" Spring asked, stepping into the house.
"Since when don’t I?"
Spring sat on the couch and Chloe lazed across from her on a well-used chair. Scented candles placed ceremoniously around the living room were the only source of light and some New Agey music, probably left over from Lanie’s days, played romantically in the background. "What’s up, sis? You don’t grace me with your company often. Something’s wrong."
Spring looked up at the ceiling and noticed for the first time that it was popcorned, an odd contrast to Chloe’s sleek and stylish lifestyle.
"I don’t know who I am anymore. This isn’t the life I planned. I quit my job. Mom’s got a pig. I kissed a man I hardly know. Trevor doesn’t remember me and Sam wants us to get married..."
"Wait a sec," Chloe interrupted. "Did you say Mom got a pig?" Spring‘s lip began to tremble and Chloe caught herself. "I’m sorry. I wasn’t being very sensitive."
"All I ever wanted was a normal life. Is that too much to ask?"
Chloe sighed and offered her sister a half smile. "We had a unique childhood. The only glimpses you ever got of normal were from the windows of the houses we passed on our way from one town to another. Or from TV shows." Chloe came to her sister and draped her arm lovingly around her. "But you know that isn’t real. None of its real. It’s all an illusion. Perfect marriages, perfect homes, perfect children, perfect hair. Perfection is a game we play because we can’t bear to let others see us as we truly are. You, my sister, are normal. It’s the rest of the world that’s crazy."
Spring looked up at her sister and felt a wave of love rush over her. "You mean it?"
"Yes. People envy that about you. You wear torn dresses and cry in public. You don’t talk in that annoying nicey-nice voice to your children. You admit you’re in debt. Your hair is always a mess and sometimes yo
ur shoes don’t even match. You show your humanity and it is a sweet, endearing thing. Don’t knock it."
Chloe smiled at her until a ding-dong at the door caught her attention. She ran to answer it, one hand still fastening the towel in place. She returned with a package. "Toys for the bedroom," she smiled, holding up the plain brown box. "What’s really normal, Spring, is what we hide from the world."
Spring spent the rest of the afternoon with Chloe. She was reluctant to see Sam and to tell him that she was now without a job. As she pulled into her driveway she saw him, watering the lawn in white sneakers, black socks, a striped button-down shirt, and a pair of long denim shorts that flared at the hips, giving him an oddly pregnant profile. His thumb covered the mouth of the hose so that he could control the flow of the spray. When he saw Spring, he waved with his free hand and turned the water off at the spigot.
"Hi, Pookie. Just tending to things that need tending to." Sam kissed her on the cheek as she got out of the vehicle. Behind her, she heard a familiar rattle she recognized as Jason’s van. She skirted out of the way as he pulled in.
"Mommy!" Shane and Blaine shouted, tumbling out of the double-doors in the back of the van. There were two sleeping bags lying on the floor of the vehicle and Spring decided not to ask if they had been sleeping in them while Jason drove.
"Hello, beautiful," Jason said, as the boys ran in dizzying circles around them. Jason put the crook of his arm around Spring’s lower back and guided her to a private spot on the opposite side of the yard. She could feel Sam’s eyes burn into her back. "...We need to talk."
"One moment, please, Jason. Take the boys to Lanie. I need to speak to Sam real fast."
Jason nodded and rounded up the twins, herding them indoors.
"I don’t like him," Sam said. "The sooner we can get rid of him the better. Ever think of giving him full custody?"
"Sam!"
"I was joking, Pookie. Relax." But Sam’s eyes were still on Jason, watching him intently as he made his way into their home.
"Sam. I did something today. Something I’m afraid you aren’t going to like."
Sam turned his full attention to Spring. "You went and saw John."
"No!"
Sam fanned himself, relieved. "Then whatever you did couldn’t be that bad. Try me."
Spring fidgeted a moment. "I quit my job."
"What?" Sam threw open his arms in a gesture of incredulousness. The sun hit his bald spot, funneling a deep beam of light into his head and Spring worried he would fry.
"I couldn’t take it anymore, Sam. They are crazy. And now that Sarah’s gone and Kimberly wants me to be Casey, well, I just couldn’t go back." Spring leaned against her car defiantly and looked out over the endless horizon of tract homes. With the exception of Zara’s home, each was an exact replica of the last.
"Well, that’s just dandy. And how do you suppose we eat?" Sam’s hands reached down to comfort his belly as if it was already sensing the impending hunger pangs.
"We aren’t destitute. You still have a job. We have enough to pay the bills. We may have to cut down on the luxuries for a while."
Sam’s body began to quake. His whole body convulsed and Spring wondered if he were having a seizure.
"Sam? You okay?"
Finally, he composed himself and carefully formed the words. "What kind of luxuries were you thinking of cutting out exactly?"
Spring thought for a moment. There was no easy way to say it. "Coffees. Trips to the movies. Books."
The last word registered across Sam’s face, turning it the color of toothpaste. He turned and paced the length of their newly-watered lawn, hands clasped over his head like he were about to surrender to the cops. "It’s so nice of you to put things into perspective for us. So very fucking nice of you." Sam stopped in front of his car and fished around in his front pocket until he produced his keys. "I’m going for one last coffee before the apocalypse."
"Sam. Why are you so upset? You are going to get an inheritance soon?"
"That doesn’t help me today, does it?" Sam slammed the car door closed and started up the engine while Spring watched him drive away. She thought she saw him flip her off but she couldn’t be sure.
"What’s got his panties in a wad?” Jason asked, emerging from the house, his tan hands tucked lazily in his front pockets.
"Oh, that’s Sam. He gets flustered sometimes."
"What you need, my dear, is a laid-back man." Jason smiled playfully at her. "One who doesn’t freak out on you at every little thing."
"A laid-back, employed man would be nice," she teased.
"No such thing. Guess you are out of luck."
"Maybe I’ll be a nun, then. I’m already getting nun in the morning and nun at night." Spring snorted, remembering her father telling that same joke to his carnie friends. The thought made her smile now that she understood the meaning. He must have been teasing though, because she was sure that Lanie had quite the appetite even in those days.
"You’re in a good mood. Guess it’s the perfect time for us to have a little chat." Jason stepped in closer and Spring tried to ignore how he made her feel. Her hormones seemed to be going crazy lately. Maybe she should go to a doctor.
"What do you want, Jason? It’s been a long day and if you have more bad news I’d rather you commit me now, please."
"You’re growing testicles, Spring. That’s good. One person in a relationship should have a pair." He laughed and Spring elbowed him in the ribs. "I miss you, you know?" He didn’t speak again and she didn’t respond. It was a statement, not a question.
She missed him too, at times. You didn’t have children with someone and go through the trials of pregnancy and the pangs of childbirth and the joys of diaper-changing without missing that person who had been there with you. And in truth, he hadn’t been a bad boyfriend. He was simply someone she couldn’t count on to start a life with. A cloud above them shifted into a dozen tiny shapes before stretching itself into a thin line and disappearing.
"I’ve known you a long time, girl. I can tell when something’s bothering you."
Spring turned towards him, observing the way his long brown hair hung perfectly around his face. The ends were dipped in honey. Women spent hundreds of dollars to have hair like that. It didn’t seem fair.
"Jason, do you ever wonder how we got here?" Spring focused on a tall blade of grass, bending to the weight of three beads of water. She watches as one bead melted into the next, and all three pooled at the base.
"Well, I drove the van."
Spring smiled and rolled her eyes. She missed him more at times like this. "We used to have dreams. I was going to save the world and you were going to be a famous musician."
Jason nodded thoughtfully. "I haven’t given up on my dream." Jason pointed through the van window to a guitar that sat fastened securely in the backseat. "Have you? Jason’s lips formed into a thin smile, revealing dimples she forgot he had. She wanted to kiss him in that moment, but not because he was sexy. She wanted to kiss him because he was Jason.
"I hate to change the subject," he said, breaking the spell. "But I want to talk to you about the boy’s education. I’m tired of the teachers telling us how bad they are. I think we should give home-schooling a shot."
"Jason. You live in a van!"
"Yeah, well, no one’s perfect. But I heard about this thing called un-schooling. It’s like home-schooling but you don’t do anything. So the boys could travel around with me, seeing different things and experiencing the world, but I wouldn’t be teaching them, so it would be legal." Jason tapped his right index finger to his temple to indicate the brilliance in this plan.
Spring shook her head. "Jason. I don’t know what the hell you are talking about. I gotta go." She had almost felt a kinship with Jason again. Almost.
"We wouldn’t have to worry about schools and social workers and what-nots. At least think about it, okay? And you may want to find out what kind of drugs Lanie’s taking. It’s nothing I’ve
given her. It might be menopause, but I doubt it. I’ve known some crazy menopausal ladies in my time, but she’s just...nuts."
Jason got into his van and cranked the engine three times before it decided to turn over.
I sure can pick them, Spring thought, and wondered if being a nun was an option for a woman who had given birth to twins, slept with men who didn’t love her, and consulted spiritual advice from a woman who lived in her spare bedroom.
Lanie had been cleaning for hours, but no matter how much she swept, dusted, mopped or shined, it wasn’t clean enough. She had, in fact, scrubbed one spot on the carpet for so long that she had worn through the fibers and could see the padding beneath.
"Why won’t this spot go away?" She cursed the spot and the two boys, which she guessed were earthbound spirits, blinked at her and dashed away.
"Grandma’s crazy," said one of them.
"Yep," replied the other.
Her daughter entered the room. Lanie knew it was her daughter intuitively, but somehow the person walking through the door didn’t match up to her memories. When had her daughter grown boobies?
"Mom? You okay?"
The words sounded distant and muffled, like someone talking to her through a glass door. Lanie had to pay close attention to make sure they were coming from the daughter‘s lips and not from inside her head.
"This place is filthy. We live in filth!" Lanie scrubbed the spot again, tearing through the padding. The daughter came over and placed a hand on her shoulder. Lanie slapped it away. "Go get your father and tell him we’re out of elephant ears."
Her daughter’s eyes opened wide and she scurried away. Hopefully to get some goddamned elephant ears. How could they run a show without elephant ears?
"Did you hear that?" Lanie turned her head. Sirens. She was sure it was sirens. Where were they coming from? Lanie ran to the window and peeked outside, down the row of homes that looked so much alike she was sure she was hallucinating. "The fuzz is coming. Everyone hide your stash."