“Yes,” she answered. She wouldn’t lie to him. It wasn’t fair. “Yes, he is.”
“Well, that’s okay. Maybe then you can be happy again, Mommy.”
Luna stared at her son, and she was so grateful for him. “Maybe,” she conceded. And in that moment she truly felt that she might be happy again. She grabbed Ben and gave him a squeeze. “Don’t tell your brother yet, okay?”
“Okay, Mom.” Ben’s voice seemed mature all of a sudden—deeper. And she’d somehow gone from ‘Mommy’ to ‘Mom.’ Is that how childhood ended… in one sentence? In one revelation?
Ben went back to the movie. Luna pulled out a kitchen chair, scraping it over the linoleum, and sank into it. Sunny put a giant mug on a green plastic placemat in front of her. “I know you don’t like my brand of coffee, dude, but I figured you needed a caffeine fix after that.”
It was true. Sunny bought whatever canned brand was on sale at the supermarket, while Luna ordered whole bean from Zabar’s—one of the few ways that Luna was a snob. But it was also true that right now, any coffee was fine. “Thanks.” She took a sip. It was weak, but also heartening.
Sunny patted Luna’s hand. “Everything will be alright.”
“When?”
“Hell if I know.”
They both laughed, and Luna felt better—if for no other reason than because she had this one friend in the world.
SIX
One friend? Jiminy protested. What am I, chopped liver?
It was always unnerving when Jiminy piped in following hours of silence—even after all these years. She knew not to bother asking why he hadn’t commented since she’d hauled ass from couples therapy. Questions like that he would never answer. Actually, he never answered any questions. He just raised them.
You’re not my friend, Jiminy. You’re my… Crap. What was he?
It doesn’t matter what I am, Luna. It only matters that you know I’m here for you.
Yeah, when you want to be.
When you need me, he corrected. But go have coffee with your one friend. We’ll talk later.
“Mind if we take this outside, chickie?” Sunny asked, oblivious to Luna’s inner dialogue. “I’m dying for a cigarette.”
“Sure.”
They sat on Sunny’s stoop with their cups of coffee. Luna tucked her coat carefully under her butt before she sat on the cold asphalt.
Sunny wore a sweatshirt, sweatpants and Happy Bunny slippers. She never put her coat on to go smoke. Apparently she had some strange immunity to freezing. Sunny sat downwind from Luna, so the smoke wouldn’t blow in Luna’s face. Luna shared the events of her day while Sunny inhaled and listened. “Christ on a platter with parsley, dude. That’s a lot of shit for one day.”
“Yup.”
“The only good thing I can say about Nick is that at least he’s not a crack-head.”
“Is that better than being some kind of pervert?”
“Hell, yeah! You’ve still got your jewelry and car, right? Sal took everything I had. Only consolation I have is that he’s renting some room in a basement, living like the subterranean creature he is. And that’s an improvement for him. Half the time he’s homeless, or incarcerated.”
“Wow,” Luna said.
“Exactly,” said Sunny. “And what about your dad? When will they know how he’ll be?”
Luna shrugged. “It’s up in the air. Like everything in my life.” She stared at the bleak foliage in Sunny’s yard. Bare trees paling in grey air. God, winter was getting old. She was impatient for spring, even though she had to turn another year older before it came. But, what the hell, spring was worth aging for. At least she had some progress to report at this year’s end—though she had a lot more to do, starting with dealing with Mister Wiener. After that…
Luna’s heart sped with anxiety at the thought of starting over, so she stopped thinking. She clutched her mug like a life preserver.
Sunny said, “Don’t you wish we could be like those women on the coffee commercials who are all about celebrating the moments of their lives?”
“Yeah. Where’s Jean-Luc when you need him?”
The dogs went wild, barking and rattling their chains. Sure enough, a guy had just turned the corner. He saw the dogs and crossed the street.
“There goes Jean Luc now. He got scared off,” Luna said.
“Just as well,” Sunny said. “If he’s a man, he’s a problem. ’Nuff said.” She took a final puff on her cigarette and crushed it out on the asphalt at her feet. Black ash marked the spot. “So, what are you gonna do about your worse half?”
“Oh, the wieners have sealed Nicks’s fate,” Luna said. “I’m going to…” Luna’s phone rang just then, interrupting her sentence. She checked the caller display. It said, “Liar.”
“It’s Nick,” she told Sunny. She hit the answer button. “What?”
“That’s all you have to say? What? After you left me with no money to pay Dr. Stepponi and no way to get home?’
“You’re thirty-six years old, Nick. I figured you’d work things out.” God, she was sick of having to hold the world up. She was dropping it, starting now.
“Well, I finally made it back. But I’m locked out. You have the key on the car ring.”
“Oh, well…”
“Oh, well? You need to come home, Luna! The bank card’s inside! I need to play Lotto.”
In addition to thinking it was his due to win Lotto because he’d played for so many years, Nick was also sure that if he didn’t play, his numbers would hit.
“It’s my bank card, Nick. You don’t have any money saved, remember?”
“Whaddaya mean? It’s our money.”
“No, it’s mine. I write books, and the royalties get direct-deposited. You serve coffee and sandwiches off the books, and the money gets folded into your pocket. You don’t contribute to the household, and when your hand comes out empty you hit ‘our’ bank account for more. But there is no more ‘our.’ ‘We’ are done, Nick. In case you didn’t get that hint from when I walked out of that ridiculous therapy session, I’m divorcing you. You can’t go in the house because it’s not your house anymore.”
Sunny clapped. “Yay! Go you!”
“Who is that? Sunny? Tell her to go fuck herself,” Nick snarled. “And you can’t keep me out of my own house.”
“It’s actually my house,” Luna told him. “I guess you forgot that, too.” Thank God she hadn’t put his name on the deed. Aunt Zelda, who had given Luna the house after moving to Brooklyn, hadn’t let her.
“You can’t throw me out.”
“Looks like you’re already out. Saves me the trouble. I’ll let you know when you can pick your stuff up.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Luna. I’m friends with half of the Nassau County cops, you know.”
The number of cops Nick was “friends” with was always growing. The truth was that he served eggs to a few patrolmen every morning.
“Maybe your friends on the job would like to know about the pornography you’ve exposed our son to on your computer,” Luna told him.
“What?”
“Ben saw a bunch of wieners when he was trying to go to the Disney Channel site. Are you proud of yourself?”
“I don’t see how that’s possible…”
“There’s no need for you to speak anymore, Nick. The wieners have spoken for you. Face it: You have a problem, and I’m not going to let it affect our children. You’re done. If you’re outside the house when I get home, I’ll call your cop buddies and let them see your collection of pics.”
There was a heavy sigh. “Where will I go?”
“I think Sal’s got a cellar room he’s renting at the moment. Go crawl in with your cousin.” Luna hit End. It was hard. She was afraid of what came next. Nick could get so mean! But she was more afraid of what would happen if she didn’t end this charade right now.
Her kids were most important.
She was shaking. The phone rang again—“Liar” wasn’t giving
up. Luna put the phone on the pavement next to Sunny’s cigarette ash.
“Good job!” Sunny said. She patted Luna’s back. “I know that was hard for you. You’re too nice to him to that user… though I could never understand why. It’s about time you showed Fatsy the door.”
“If only fatness was the problem. There’s no dieting off deceit. Oh, by the way, he told you to go fuck yourself.”
“Such wit. I am mortally wounded,” Sunny said.
“I knew you would be.”
The phone kept going to voicemail, then ringing again. Some texts came in as well. Sunny picked up the phone, deleted everything, and turned the power off. From around the corner the Roman Catholic church bells rang, marking either the beginning of an hour or the end of one, depending on how you looked at it. Sunny stood and said, “Let’s order some Chinese food. The kids are gonna realize they’re hungry as soon as the Jedis extract their revenge, which will be any moment.”
Sunny really is a good friend, Jiminy amended. And for the record, I’m proud of you, too.
Thanks Jiminy, Luna answered as she went back inside to take the kids’ orders. I’m proud of me, too.
After everyone had been fed and fortunes read aloud (Luna’s was “You have a long journey ahead”—not the most thrilling news), the kids went back into the living room to catch some Disney Channel show. Sunny turned on Luna’s phone, listening to and erasing all of Nick’s venomous voicemails. “Your mom left a message, too,” Sunny told Luna, handing her back the purple-encased phone. “She said your dad’s not twitching as much.”
“Thanks,” Luna said, stowing her phone back into her purple purse. It had been her New Year’s Resolution last year to surround herself with things that made her happy—and the color purple was one of those things. Nick was not. Why was getting rid of something—or someone—so hard? “You think he’ll be outside when I get home?”
Sunny shook her head no. “His ranting was unintelligible for the most part, but I think he deduced that his cards are all played for the night.”
“God, I hope so. But Nick doesn’t generally know when to fold.” She pulled her cell phone out again to check the time. “Holy crap! It’s nine-thirty. The kids should be in bed!”
“Relax. They’re young. One night past bedtime won’t hurt.”
Sunny was right. For the past few years Luna had been clinging to her schedule like a log on a river, trying to keep herself afloat. One missed bedtime was hardly cause for alarm or Child Protective Services.
Still, going home could no longer be avoided. She called for her kids, everyone said their goodbyes, and they were on their way. But to what?
SEVEN
Luna put on Disney Radio (God, Disney was everywhere!), and the kids happily listened to songs by their favorite child stars. She attempted to let the music distract her thoughts, but she kept imagining Nick waiting for them on the curb. He’d try and make her look like the bad guy. Ben wouldn’t buy it—but Dylan might.
She couldn’t bear for Dylan to think she wouldn’t let Daddy in the house for no good reason. Please don’t be there, please don’t be there…
Her prayers were answered. Nick was nowhere in sight when she parked the van. Only Jingles was there—their errant cat, who came and went as he pleased. She’d originally named him Oliver—after Oliver Twist, because the orange cat was such a ragged stray—but the kids kept calling him Jingles because of the bell around his neck, which Luna bestowed after several bird massacres on her lawn. The new moniker stuck. Jingles followed them in, jingling all the way.
“Pajama time, guys,” she said when they got in the door and she hit the lights. “It’s late.” She glanced at her kitchen table, with the extra leaf still in and so many chairs gathered around to accommodate Nick’s super-sized family. They were all loud and nuts, but in a way she would miss them. Being an only child had given her an aversion to being alone, no matter how bad her company was.
But then Luna’s eyes landed at the center of the table, on the ceramic turkeys Ben and Dylan had made in art school and proudly presented her with. She had her sons. She wasn’t alone.
It was wonderful to have them, but of course not the same as adult companionship. With them her world was Disney, and sometimes she wanted Showtime. And of course her kids could not protect her. It was her job to protect them. How was she supposed to do that in this world where so much was beyond control, and where right was so often intermingled with wrong.
You think too much, Jiminy said.
It was true, but she didn’t know how to stop.
Just be.
“Be” was too solitary for Luna. She always put something beside it: like “careful,” or “worried.” Or “afraid.”
She followed the boys upstairs, where they had adjoining rooms. Dylan scampered into his and Jingles followed him, while Ben paused with his hand on his door knob. “Good night, Mom.”
Luna felt a swell of loss. Yes, it was great that Ben was self-sufficient. But his independence also made her feel like she was shirking her duties—and in a way, his growing older made watching over him more of a challenge. Worst of all was this feeling of time marching, carrying her away from her boys’ childhood. Luna missed the old pajama and story time, with Ben curled up on one side of her and Dylan on the other.
Tonight, she particularly mourned such moments. “Don’t forget…” Luna started.
“To brush my teeth,” Ben finished.
“And also…”
“To wash my face. I know, Mom. Everything’s on my list.”
Ben made a daily sticky-note list of everything he needed to accomplish and stuck it on his mirror. He even included “wake up” on top. When she’d questioned him about this given, he’d answered, “I like to be able to cross something off first thing.”
Luna wavered in the hallway. More changes were happening—she felt movement in the air. “C’mon, Mommy,” Dylan called from his room. Ben let go of his handle and gave her a hug. “It’s okay, Mom,” he assured her. “I’ll be the man of the house now.”
Ooooh, no. She wasn’t going to burden her son like that. Luna took Ben’s hands in hers and looked him in the eyes. “Don’t you worry about taking care of me, sweetheart. Relax. You don’t have to be a grown-up yet.”
He studied her for a few moments. Her hands remained tight over his. “Okay. But let me know if you need me to do anything. I’ll put it on my list.”
Dylan’s room was a jungle. Across one wall was a rainforest mural. His bunk bed posts looked like trees, complete with leafy green tops. The upper bunk was encased in a hut with thatched roof. Dylan alternated between sleeping inside that house and below, where a menagerie of stuffed animals resided. The rest of his furniture matched the hut, in a Gilligan’s Island way. Stepping into this space was like leaving civilization behind. Tonight, that suited Luna just fine.
Unfortunately, some things could not be forgotten. Luna had just buttoned Dylan into his macaw-patterned pajamas when he asked about Nick. “When’s Daddy coming home?”
Luna bit her lip, so hard that she tasted blood. Through seeping saltiness she said, “Daddy’s staying somewhere else, baby.”
“Is he coming home tomorrow?”
Luna pressed her finger on her wound and thought. Should she wait to break the news? No. He’d resent her if she did. She just knew it. “No, baby. Mommy and Daddy aren’t going to be together anymore.”
His eyes widened. “You mean you’re getting divorced?”
Such a big word for a five-year-old! “How do you know about divorce?”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows about it, Mommy. It happens all the time.”
“I see.” She checked her lip. The bleeding had stopped. If only everything could be fixed so simply.
“So, are you and Daddy getting a divorce or not?’
There was no beating around the bush with Dylan—not even here, in the wild. “Yes, we are.” God, Nick was going to be livid that she told Dylan without hi
m. Oh, well.
Dylan was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “Will I see him?”
“Yes.”
“But we won’t do our trips anymore?” Dylan loved family vacations.
“Not with Daddy. But you, me and Ben will go.”
Dylan’s head slumped. Luna sat on the floor and scooped him up in her arms. “We’re still a family, Dylan. And Daddy’s still your father.”
He lay in her lap with his face pressed into her shoulder for several moments. Then he raised his head and asked, “Will you sleep with me tonight?”
“Okay, Baby.”
“In the tree house?”
Luna sighed. It was so cramped in there, and she was claustrophobic. “Okay, Baby.”
“I wanna lay on your arm.”
“Okay, Baby.”
Luna brushed Dylan’s teeth and washed his face. Then, because it was already so late, she followed him up the bamboo ladder into his house without putting on her pajamas.
Jingles was sprawled on the comforter. Luna nudged him over, and then burrowed under the quilted monkey comforter with Dylan. Jingles jangled as he searched for a comfy space to settle in, electing to lie across Luna’s feet. There was no storytime. Dylan was asleep the moment he curled against Luna, her arm cradling his neck. Unfortunately, real life had been tonight’s tale. In silence, she wished for a happy ending for her kids—and herself. She managed to turn and kiss Dylan’s forehead without disturbing him. Then she tried to sleep, despite the rising panic which resulted from lying scrunched inside close walls. Dylan wanted her there. She would endure.
EIGHT
Luna woke up before dawn with a jolt. It wasn’t the cramped quarters, or the lack of circulation in her arm or her feet. It wasn’t even the throbbing pain in her neck from sleeping in a bad position. It was something much worse: the realization that she’d forgotten to cancel Nick’s American Express card. She needed to do it immediately, before he sent her permanently into the red. The combination of AmEx’s lack of a spending limit and Nick’s lack of conscience made that possibility all too real.
Luna Rising Page 5