“Keno, Alma needs to cook out here. She said she wants you out of her face. You better do what Alma says. She’s about ready to kill you.”
Someone should kill me to put me out of this misery. Alma’s smart, so she would know that. If she comes out here yelling at me, I will deserve it, but I’m sure I’ll puke on her and she’ll divorce me. Then I’ll just be a fucked-up guy covered in puke and plastered to this—where am I? The patio? How did I get down here? I’m sandwiched between a sleeping bag and a sheet. Aww… someone made me a bed.
“Mazie, where did this pillow come from?”
“I put it there. I’ve been watching you. I kinda thought you were dead, and I freaked out.”
“Oh, Mazie,” I whine. I’ve scared her, and she doesn’t need that shit. I try to lift my head again, but the pain. Holy shit! “I’m sorry. That was real bad of me to scare you like that.”
I watch Mazie sit back on her knees. “It was super bad. Me and Alma might not forgive you.”
“You better move away from me, Tater Tot. I’m gonna puke any minute.”
“Gross!” Mazie scoots backward so fast I can’t follow her with my unfocused, half-open eye. “You better puke in the yard. If you puke on the patio, Alma will kill you for sure.”
“Yep, I better. Here goes!”
I jerk myself up and lunge for the patio edge farthest from Mazie and the grill, my stomach heaving, the world swirling, squeezing my lips together to hold this horrible-tasting shit in my mouth a second or two longer.
I don’t think I’m gonna make it to the grass. But the vomit kind of propels me past the patio edge, where I hurl out massive gushes of it. Golden liquid vomit; bean vomit; watery vomit.
I stop for a second and try to catch my breath, but it comes again. And again. This is crazy! It’s got to be impossible to have this much puke come out of me. It’s like I have a fat hose up my ass, pumping puke into me so I can vomit it out. I hurt so much I wouldn’t even know if I had a fat hose up my ass.
Finally, I stop a little longer, holding my stomach and groaning. I sink to my knees, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, surveying the vast spray of puke before me.
“Holy shit, Keno!” Mazie squeaks from behind me, making my head ring. “You puked a ton! This is even more than Milo puked when he had the flu before the sun zapped us.”
Now Mazie talks like me and Milo do? “Holy shit” and “puking a ton,” and “the sun zapping us”? Man, me and Milo have got to be better influences on her. Some good influence I am, because I’m puking again.
Charlotte steps out on her back porch next door and looks down at me, here on my knees across the fence.
“Keno, I’m not surprised by this.”
“Well, I am! ’Scuse me a sec.” I point at my mouth. I’ve got to puke again. “I think I’m gonna pass out.”
“Hang on, honey. Mazie, give this to Keno for me.” Charlotte comes down her steps and hands something to Mazie across the fence.
“What is it?” Mazie asks.
“A bottle of mint tea and some Tylenol. Slug it down, Keno, and get to bed.”
Shit, I’ve been a menace to those nice ladies and my whole family, and now I’m crying.
“June—I mean Charlotte. I’m sorry. Alma’s fixing to kill me.”
“Yes, I believe you have some apologizing to do.”
“If she ever speaks to me again, can I bring her over to visit you guys, for, you know—an exam?”
“Honey, we examined Alma yesterday.”
“You did?” I flop to the ground over that. I don’t even care if I get more vomit on me. “No wonder she’s so mad at me. I didn’t give her a chance to tell me.”
Oh shit! I shoot up to my knees again.
“Is Alma all right?”
“She’s fine, honey. We listened to the baby’s heartbeat. Alma was excited to have you listen, too.”
Tears spurt out of my eyes. “Oh man. I’ve been a world-class shithead.”
“Apologize. A little groveling won’t hurt you. She’ll forgive you. Give her time.”
“I’m going to grovel the rest of my life over missing a chance to listen to the baby. That’s the absolute worst.”
“Not good, but not the absolute worst. Go to bed. Mazie and I will throw some soil over your mess.” She’s so polite, she doesn’t even say the word “vomit.”
“Thank you, Charlotte.” I climb unsteadily to my feet. “Mazie, I hope you don’t stay mad at me too long.”
“I’m not mad anymore. You’re too funny to be mad at.”
“Ha!” I laugh, but I wish I hadn’t. “I’ll try to entertain you more often.”
“Not by getting drunk, though.”
“You got that right.”
I don’t know where Alma is, but I’m sure she doesn’t want to see me. Somehow, I manage to stumble up the stairs, toss my pukey clothes in the empty bathtub, throw a quilt over a futon in the game room, and crash in my boxer shorts.
It’s dark when I wake up. God, I’ve wasted the whole day. I hear Mazie and Milo downstairs, hooting about some game. I need to find Alma, but what will I do if she won’t forgive me?
I go to our room, but she’s not there. I find some clothes and linger in the bathroom, brushing my teeth with only a dab of toothpaste and a worn-out brush, trying to slow my breath. I notice Mom reading in Eddie’s room as I pass. I slink down the stairs and peek into the living room. Just Milo and Mazie. No Alma. There’s no light or noise coming from the kitchen or dining room, either. It’s dark as hell on the patio. Shit, did she leave me?
My heart’s pounding all out of sync. I’m fearful down to the marrow in my bones. When Milo and Mazie see me, they stop yapping and stare at me. I stare back.
“Where’s—?”
“Patio,” Milo says.
“In the dark?”
“Uh… yeah.”
I stop with my hand on the back doorknob, breathing deep. But nothing I do will slow my heart. I need to get this over with.
I yank open the door, and Alma startles. She’s curled up in a ball on a lawn chair with her feet in the seat, surrounded by pots of herbs. I can’t see her face, but I feel her dark mood.
“Oh. It’s you,” she says.
I sit down across from her, but not close. We breathe for a while. There’s no use trying to protect myself from this. It’s gonna hurt, whatever I do.
“Alma, I’m so freaking sorry.”
She huffs at me, and tears shoot out of my eyes.
“Is there…? Do you…? What can I do to make this up to you?”
She doesn’t answer. She buries her head under her arms.
“I love you so much,” I say. “I never should’ve treated you like that.”
“Hush,” she says. “I’m thinking.”
“Sorry.” I lean back in the chair with my hands over my face, trying not to cry out loud. I count to twenty, and still, she’s quiet. I shift in my seat.
Alma uncovers her face and sets her feet on the ground. “I’ve been arguing with you in my head all night and all day. For twenty-five damn hours, I’ve been arguing with you. But you weren’t there. You checked out.”
“I woulda talked to you this afternoon, but I thought you wanted me out of your face.”
“That’s not the point!”
“Okay, then what—?”
“Shut up and listen to me. Do you know how lonely it is to argue for a whole day with someone who’s not there? Don’t answer that. It’s really, really freaking lonely…” She stares at me. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”
“You told me not—”
“I wanted to run away, but there’s nowhere to go. I wanted to hit you and kick you. I wanted to divorce you.”
“God, Alma, please don’t do that. I would deserve it, but please don’t.”
“I’ve already had this argument with you while you were passed out. I pictured this conversation, you know? I knew you wouldn’t want me to leave. And when I thought about you begging me to stay, I knew I’d want to. So, the question is, what am I going to do about you and the way you put so much pressure on yourself until it makes you act crazy? Because you can’t do that shit again. You can’t!”
My crying won’t stay silent anymore. “I don’t want to do that shit again. I don’t know how it ended up happening.”
“I do. You had a ton of trauma and didn’t deal with it. You take everything that goes wrong like it’s a personal insult to you. You think you should be Super Keno and take charge of everything, fix everything, be responsible for everyone. You hold yourself to a standard that even God couldn’t meet. It’s an ego trip is what it is.”
“An ego trip? I never meant—”
“I know you didn’t, but that’s the result. How could you possibly think you could handle all this shit by yourself?”
I sigh and press my hands into my face. “I never thought of it that way. I can’t step outside of myself and look back in.”
“Which is exactly why you can’t do it all by yourself.”
Alma steps over and sits on the footrest in front of me. She puts her hand on my knee, and I grab hold of it like a lifeline.
“Baby, you try so hard to be a hero. And you try so hard to be a man. But you’re also only eighteen. You’re a sweet, vulnerable boy who’s lost his sister and his grandmother. You have to work so hard to keep us alive. Your father’s been absent for years. Your mom’s traumatized. Your aunt and grandpa are nutso. You’re taking care of your cousins and me and all the neighbors, too, in the middle of threat after threat after threat. You can’t fix everything, baby. You need to forgive yourself for that.”
“But if I don’t fix it, who will?”
She shakes her head, sighing. “I’m not saying don’t try to fix things. I’m saying you have to accept that it’s not in your power to fix all of it, and you have to quit getting so pissed off if you fail.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“I’ll help you, because you know what?”
“What?”
“I’m sick of being mad at you.” She grabs hold of my face and kisses me deep, with lots of tongue. Then she scoots into my lap until she’s pressing her round belly and breasts into me, and I’m melting inside.
“Alma, you’re some kind of amazing saint.”
“I won’t be a saint if you ever do that shit again.”
“If I ever do that shit again, I’ll shoot myself.”
“I’ll be super-pissed at you if you shoot yourself.”
“Guess I better not, then.”
“Damn straight.” Alma kisses me again, real slow now, on the lips but not with her tongue. She leans back again, and her face is serious. “Next time you start feeling that way, you’re going to tell me so I can help you.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“It’s a deal. How’s your hangover?”
“Better, mostly.”
“Good. So, here’s what’s going to happen.”
“I’m listening. I still can’t believe you’re talking to me, so I’m really listening.”
“Sweet. So, we’re going to take deep breaths, we’re going to kiss one more time, then we’re going to eat dinner together like civilized people—except the food is cold.”
“That’s okay.”
“Then you’re gonna make love to me.”
“Oh, man. I didn’t know if you’d ever—”
“Don’t call me ‘man.’ I’m your pregnant wife, and you’re my man who put this baby inside me. We’re going to move on as adults who’re about to be parents for the rest of our lives. And we’re going to take care of each other and our baby—our other children, if we have them. And we’re going to be bursting with love. We’ll go through whatever hard shit life throws at us—but together. Okay, Keno? Are you ready for this?”
“Even in this apocalypse, we’re going to do this?”
“I’m not letting an apocalypse or anything else take our choices away from us. Screw the apocalypse!”
“Ha! I’m not gonna let this apocalypse take me away from you anymore, even in my head.”
“Good.” Alma beams at me.
“Please don’t ever leave me.”
“I won’t.”
My mind’s racing and my tears are drying up. Suddenly, I feel more like a man than I’ve ever felt before. I have a woman in my lap who loves me and who I’m so very grateful is here. And we have a baby coming, a son or a daughter we’re going to protect and raise right. Instead of feeling giddy-happy like I usually do about Alma, I feel a spark of contentment in the core of me, like a strong man might feel, a man with love and convictions inside him.
“Alma, you are a beautiful woman inside and out. I’m ready for a life with you forever.”
I take Alma’s face between my hands, and I kiss her like I’m actually a man.
CHAPTER 32
I’m so grateful that Alma’s forgiving me and I’m trying to keep my spirits up, but it’s rough. I’m glad I blew that toxic emotion out of me, too, but I’m still raw inside. And now I’ve got the sun to worry about again, and what it could do to us next. If it sends a geomagnetic storm that’s big enough, it could suck the atmosphere clear off the planet.
And really, those rogue northern lights must be caused by something changing with the sun. What it could be, I don’t know, but the magnetic poles can’t shift so fast and so far. The problem almost has to come from the sun itself.
It’s just one trauma after another, everywhere we turn.
Alma, though—wow. Forgiveness is a wonder drug.
Tonight, we’re going to listen to the baby’s heartbeat. I’m hyped about that. And some evening this week, we’ll visit June and Charlotte together and they’ll tell us about the birth and what my role in helping Alma should be. We think it’s about four months away, but we don’t know the due date because we’re not sure when she got pregnant.
June and Charlotte will be in charge of the birth, medical-wise, but since they’re old and birthing babies takes strength, they want Alma to pick two younger, stronger women to help and get trained. She wants my mom and Doris.
Alma’s so excited about this, which helps melt my fear for her. Not all of it, though. Not sure I want all my fear to go away. I might not be alert enough to protect Alma and the baby as fiercely as I need to.
Last night, Harvey and Mark were on patrol when a bunch of teenagers ran into the neighborhood, racing down the street and grabbing corn off the stalks. Harvey and Mark had to fire a shotgun to get the assholes to leave. So much shit keeps happening that I can’t keep track. It builds more fear inside me every time, fear I’m determined to keep a handle on.
It’s probably like this all over the country—that’s what blows my mind. If the founders of the United States weren’t already dead, they’d be having heart attacks over the way our country turned out.
I could have a heart attack over it, but I’m going to do my damnedest to stop brooding and be strong like Nana—maybe think up some brilliant shit of my own.
Tonight, Alma goes to our room while I talk to Eddie to be sure we’re cool. Eddie says I’m just having growing pains about becoming a man.
At first, I think he’s being dismissive of me, until he says, “Buddy, you put a lot of pressure on yourself to know what you’re doing as an adult, but here’s a little secret about adults.” He leans up close to my face. “None of us know what we’re doing.”
“Ha! You could’ve saved me a ton of heartache by telling me that sooner.”
“It never occurred to me that you didn’t already know it. You never hesitate to tell us when we’re wrong.”
I hug Uncle Eddie
for five minutes straight, or that’s what it seems like.
“Hey baby,” I say quietly to Alma when I rush into our bedroom, trying to slow down. “Or, hi to both my babies. How are the two of you doin’?”
Alma’s sitting in bed with a candle lit and some almost-clean sheets, another miracle I keep marveling over. She’s got Nana’s stethoscope and a big smile waiting for me.
“Me and our baby are good. He or she has been kicking me in the ribs today.”
“Kicking you? Does it hurt?”
“It surprises me, but I pretty much love it. Sit down here on the bed.”
“Sure.” I slide off my shoes and sit, giving Alma a questioning look. She scooches up her T-shirt to just below her breasts. Her round belly sets off sparks inside me.
“Let’s explore,” she says.
Alma places my hand on the top right part of her belly, beneath her pulled-up shirt. I lean forward to see our hands better.
“Feel my ribs right here?” she asks.
“Yeah? You’ve got cute ribs.”
“Silly. Scoot your hand back a couple inches. The baby kicked a second ago. Press down a little and keep your hand there. See if he or she will kick again.”
I wait, watching my hand, wondering if this is going to happen now or—
“There! Do you feel it?”
A tiny force bumps beneath my hand, pushing the skin up on Alma’s belly and sending a thrill clear through me.
“I did. I do. I feel it!” Tears squirt into my eyes and swirl around. I have to blink to see. I keep my hand in place, and the baby kicks Alma under my hand a couple more times.
“Hi, baby.” I am swamped with awe. We keep sitting this way, astonished at what we’ve created. Finally, the baby stops kicking or stretching or whatever babies do up in those wombs. Alma kisses me real soft and gentle. My heart swells.
“Want to listen to the heartbeat now?”
I gulp. “May I?”
Alma giggles. “Yes, you may. Let me find it first.” She plugs the stethoscope into her ears, leaning back on one arm while she probes around her belly with the round end of the instrument. She stops a bit, listens, and then slides the scope over and listens some more. A smile starts in her eyes and fills her face. “Here it is. I’ll hold this end in place, and you put the earpieces in your ears.”
If the Light Escapes: A Braving the Light Novel Page 21