Everything Is Fine.

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Everything Is Fine. Page 11

by Ann Dee Ellis


  “No. I’m just seeing if I left my bag.”

  I look in the bathroom.

  Nothing.

  She is gone.

  SILENCE

  “Maybe she’s already outside,” I say.

  “Whatever,” Colby says. “We have to go. This is taking way too long.”

  We climb back out and look around. No mom.

  “Wait here,” I tell him.

  “I’m going home.”

  “No, no, please,” I say. “Just wait here.”

  I go back inside.

  Everything is still.

  In the front room, the clock is ticking.

  In the kitchen, the fridge is buzzing.

  I look in my room.

  Nothing.

  I look in the hall closet.

  Nothing.

  I look in the bathroom.

  Nothing.

  I even open the door of the study a crack.

  That’s when I hear it.

  TALKING

  At the end of the hall. In the art studio.

  My dad’s voice.

  I tiptoe down the hall and put my ear to the door.

  He is talking.

  But not with his TV voice.

  And not his dad voice.

  It’s different.

  I open the door quietly and there they are.

  In the moonlight streaming through the window.

  Dad on the rocking chair.

  Mom in his lap.

  Dad whispering and talking.

  OPRAH

  If I meet her I’ll say that she was wrong about some things.

  PAINTINGS

  I stand in the doorway and watch them. Dad has all my paintings out on the floor.

  Mom is just curled up — her Tevas dangling.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I miss Olivia so much, but I miss both of you too.”

  I stand there.

  And watch him cry and then I see her put her arms around him and hug him.

  My mom hugs my dad.

  They sit like that a long time.

  Rocking.

  Then I hear Dad say, “I didn’t know Mazzy could paint.”

  I hold my breath.

  She doesn’t respond right away but then she says, “She can.”

  I let the air out and that’s when I close the door.

  WENDY’S

  Instead of kidnapping my mom, Colby and I go to Wendy’s for two free Frosties.

  We walk.

  MORNING

  In the morning, Mom is sitting in the front room.

  She has two suitcases and she is wearing the same outfit I put her in.

  She looks like Mom.

  Dad is making a power shake in the kitchen and he doesn’t say anything about her clothes.

  As we are leaving and getting in Dad’s car, Norma comes over.

  She is in a fluorescent muumuu and she has her hair in curlers.

  “You all need any help?” she asks.

  I look at Dad.

  He looks at me.

  “I think we do, actually,” he says.

  OLIVIA: watercolor on paper

  The END.

 

 

 


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