fount, or over the icing on
my birthday cake!)
But, despite everything that
went down over my summer
in Albuquerque, I want to see
Dad again. He’s a freak, true,
and a piss-poor father.
But he still belongs to me.
Mom Is Still Ranting
And suddenly she seems to intuit
my inner turmoil, which only
serves to make her angrier still.
You can’t want him to come
here, Kristina? Do you really
want him to spoil this special day?
What can I say but the truth?
“Why does he have to spoil
anything, Mom? You’ve been
divorced, like, forever. Can’t
you bury the hatchet—and not
literally? Can’t you just let it go?”
Hunter starts to fuss—he’s still
soggy—and Mom takes him
from my arms. I’ll never forgive
him for the way he treated his
family, Kristina, or for the path
he put you on last year.
Okay, that’s just not fair.
“You can stay mad at him
forever, Mom. I don’t care.
But you can’t blame him for
the choices I made. He didn’t
make those decisions for me.”
She levels me with a single
glare. [Damn, that’s a real talent.]
I suppose that’s true, and I guess
I can’t stop him from coming.
She hands me the phone.
But you have to tell your sister.
Mom Goes to Change Hunter
I dial Leigh’s number,
praying she isn’t home.
No luck there. We exchange
pleasantries, chat
a few minutes. Finally,
I break the news.
Leigh takes it well.
No fucking way! Kristina,
I want to be there,
you know I do, and I really
want you to meet Heather.
It’s taken both of us this long
to make that meeting happen.
But how can we possibly come
now? I wouldn’t know what
to say to Dad, or how to react
when I saw him. Why hasn’t
he ever once called me, Kristina?
How can he care so little?
I don’t want to tell her drugs—
and maybe sex—mean more
to him than anything, though
I know in my heart that’s
the truth. I don’t want to tell
her that’s the way of the monster.
“I don’t know, Leigh. But you
have to come, okay?”
I haven’t seen her in months,
and want her here for my birthday,
not to mention the baptism.
Suddenly I know what to say.
Pastor Keith will simply
have to deal with it, one way
or another. Anyway, I’m not
so sure God will have a hard
time with my choice.
“I want you and Heather
to be Hunter’s godparents.
Please, Leigh. Please come.”
It’s Been Almost a Week
Since Leigh reluctantly agreed
to serve as Hunter’s godmother.
(Godfather? Thank goodness I don’t
know all the little details. They
might make me change my mind.)
But I’m happy (and sort of surprised)
to say I’ve managed to keep my use
pretty much under control.
I’ve only indulged maybe twice
a day, and yesterday I completely
ignored the monster’s whining.
Mostly because my body finally
demanded the sleep of the dead.
I claimed a flu bug was taking me
down, and Mom believed every word.
With my red eyes, sweats, and chills, no
doubt I looked the part. I slept thirteen
hours, got up and ate dinner, then crashed
back out until this morning. Of course,
the first thing I did when I got up was
sneak around back for a quick toke.
I have to admit I totally misjudged a few
things, like the crystal’s effect on my mothering
capabilities. I thought it would make it
easier to segue into my daytime routine
after late-night hours cajoling Hunter
to please, please go back to sleep.
Instead, the glass tends to make me
(with apologies for the coming pun)
a tad cranky. Imagine trying to placate
a fussy baby when his crying sends
major body rushes up and down your spine,
crashing into your skull and vibrating
inside your brain. Imagine trying to hold
him against breasts hard as boulders
from all the milk left to ferment inside
and finally—blessedly—dry up completely,
leaving your boobs a whole cup size
smaller than before you got pregnant.
Imagine, when the idea of food
makes you want to retch, trying
to deal with mostly-digested
baby formula, big green glops,
smeared on a butt (even if it is a pretty
cute baby butt), all yours to clean.
Imagine trying to play This Little Piggy
when what you really want is to hook up
with a guy for a great night of smoking
and “touch me right there, please.”
Yeah, yeah, I know that—and exactly
that—is what got me into this predicament
to begin with. So no lectures. But hey,
if there’s a cute, available guy out there,
please, someone, please point him
in my direction.
The Garage Calls
My car is purring like a kitten
and wants to come home.
“So what’s the total?”
Fifteen hundred eighty
big ones. Will that be
cash, check, or charge?
Like who’s got fifteen
hundred in cash lying
around? “Um, check I guess.”
Mom will not be pleased,
even though she promised
she’d take care of it for me.
She’s not. That’s a lot
of money, Kristina. How
are you going to repay us?
She won’t be pleased
about my answer, either.
God, just please, no
lectures! “I put in an
application at the Sev.
I should hear soon.”
She shakes her head
and I know that means:
What will people think?
“It’s not the worst thing,
Mom. At least it’s close.
I asked for swing shift,
but sometimes they start
you on graveyard.”
Grade E’s loser shift.
She tsks her tongue. Who’d
have thought you’d end
up working there?
My First Inclination
With the monster
whispering in one ear, is to snap
something rude.
But Bree, believe it or not,
reigns me in.
[Won’t serve our purposes.]
Her hiss is inside
my head. [We do want Mom
to agree to pay
for our car, now don’t we?]
Yes, in fact we do.
So I temper my temper and
say
, “It’s only for
a little while, Mom. I have
to pay you back
somehow, don’t I?” I don’t
mention my need
to escape the confines of her
house, but I do
confess, “And a little cash
for gas, diapers, and
incidentals (!) would be nice.”
Mom melts, but
just a little. I guess you’re
right. Thank you
for taking the initiative to
apply for a job.
I don’t mind watching the
baby while you
work, and I know a degree
of independence
is important to every young
woman. It’s just
that you’ve always had such
big dreams. I don’t
want to see you lose them. You
made an immense
mistake, but it shouldn’t mean
the demise of all you
worked so hard to accomplish.
She Opened the Door
To a real conversation and,
fired up on twenty hours’ sleep
and a good strong whiff of quite
excellent glass, I feel like talking.
Does she really want to listen?
“I’ve got lots of time to put
my life back in order, Mom. I
want to, really I do. But I need
your help, and not just financially.
I want to make a good life for
Hunter, a good life for myself.
I want to stay close to my
family, but I also need the chance
to leave the nest. To do that,
I need an income. I need a job.”
Her jawline turns to stone.
What about college, Kristina?
A job is all well and fine. But
to continue the lifestyle you’re
used to, you need a career.
I want to scream. College?
Career? Lifestyle? No! I
need freedom—the freedom
to make my own choices.
The freedom to get high.
But I know screaming
is completely useless.
[Counterproductive.]
“You’re absolutely right,
Mom, and I will go to
college, enter a career I
love. But for now, going
to work at the 7-Eleven
seems like my best option.
Please support my decision.”
We Leave It There for Now
She goes to get her purse [check-
book] and I run to my room for
a quick hit off my well-loved
lightbulb. I stick my head all the way
out the window, thinking about—
you guessed it—Trey, the artisan
hundred-watt soft white refinisher.
I’m still thinking about the tilt
of his shoulders, the sexy lilt in
his voice, while we drive to the
garage and Mom pays the grease
monkey. She hands me my car keys.
Looks like Hunter is in La-La Land.
I’ll take him home. See you in a bit.
She’s cutting me loose? Now I’m
thinking she’s thinking she’d better
give me some room. She’s right.
I’ve been cooped up for far too
long. Time to spread my wings
and let the wind carry me somewhere
new. To someone new?
The LTD chortles and the radio
plays Def Leppard, Pour some
sugar on me…I sing along, feeling
liberated despite everything. Okay,
I’m totally spun. And I plan to get
spunner, having brought along
my Trey souvenir and its glitter.
Glitter. Sugar. Ice. Glass. God!
I’m right where I want to be,
at least for now. I drive down
to the park on the river. Last time
I was here, Chase and I spent some time
getting buzzed and fooling around.
I wonder if he’s all right. I miss him.
He hasn’t sent me a letter in a while.
Of course, I didn’t answer the last
one. It was just too painful to think
about his new life in California.
I bet he’s got someone new.
Not that I want to know.
I’m not quite that masochistic.
There’s a chill in the air when
I open the window. I watch
the cool breeze toy with the willows
along the riverbank. Take several
slow hits. Climb to a fine elevation,
listening to my favorite radio station’s
new mix of classic rock and metal.
Everything changes eventually.
I know that’s true, but it’s hard
you just have to make things
happen. I’m making things happen
now. Whether they prove good or
bad simply remains to be seen.
On the Way Home
I stop by the Sev to actually drop off
my application. (Okay, so I’ve only
really managed to fill it out. I’ve been
kind of busy the last week or so.)
Lucky me. The “big boss man”
is here, checking up on the day
crew. He looks me all up and down.
What can I do for you, young lady?
Okay, so he’s kind of creepy. But I
know how to plaster on a smile.
“Just dropping off this application.
I live right up the hill behind here.”
Always good for our employees to live
close by. No “traffic” excuses that way.
Those really piss me off. Here comes
the drool. But I can play that game too.
“I can imagine. But no worries
here. The only excuses I ever give
have to do with my period.” OMG!
Bree has taken full-blown control.
Kevin is no match for her. He stops.
Stutters. Accepts the application
and suggests, Let’s go into the back
office and discuss possibilities.
Bree and I trail him into
a big storage room, filled
with cartons and stuff. On
one table sits an old computer.
Sit right there, Kristina Snow.
I see you’re going to be eighteen
on Saturday? He studies me like
a tough-to-crack textbook.
“That’s right. So I really need
to make some money to move
out on my own….” I debate telling
him about Hunter. Decide not to.
No employment history, I see. So, no
cash register experience? He doesn’t
flinch at my blank stare. Well, with
scanners it’s easy. You can make change?
Bree comes oozing out my pores.
“I can make just about anything,
Mr. Stewart. Change is a piece of pie.”
Now I remember why I loved her.
He leans toward me, close
enough so I can see the hairs in his
nose. Cream pie’s my favorite.
What shift did you have in mind?
Is he offering me—Bree—days?
One way to find out. “Well, I’d like
days, but I know you have to pay
your dues, so whatever works….”
Now the drool fairly drips. We’ll
see what we can do about those dues,
but you happen to be in luck. One of
our day-shift people quit today.
Unreal. The cretin is offering days.
And something else, too. I’ll have
to consider that carefully. He’s really,
truly nowhere close to my type!
He scoots his chair even closer to
mine, measures my [non] reaction.
When can you start? I’ll be happy
to come in and train you personally.
Oh, yeah. I just bet he will.
But what will he train me in?
I tell him about the upcoming
celebrations. “How’s Monday?”
The shift starts at seven. He stands,
gestures for me to precede him back
to the front of the store. I can only
guess what he’s looking at from behind.
As We Pass the Counter
The smell of fresh tobacco
almost makes me reel.
Damn, would I love a smoke!
No way can I ask for a pack
now. Kevin knows my age.
But in two more days not
only will I be old enough
to buy them, I’ll have them
at my easy disposal.
Kevin pauses, extends a hand,
so sweaty it threatens to slip
from my grasp. Welcome to
the team, Kristina. You’ll be
working with Midge there…. He
points to the middle-aged
redhead behind the blinking
cash register. Say hello to
Kristina, Midge.
She turns in my direction,