Page 24 of Glass - 02


  are my

  legs

  sticky?

  Sticky red.

  Did

  I hurt

  myself

  in sleep?

  On purpose?

  What

  is wrong

  with me?

  My brain

  is mud.

  There

  goes the Tilt

  -A-

  Whirl

  again.

  I’m

  spinning

  out of

  control

  again.

  Stepping

  over

  the edge

  again.

  Knocking

  Pounding. Little fists

  falling against the wood

  of my bedroom door.

  Wake up, sleepyhead!

  Daddy has to go to work.

  Devon’s voice is bright

  as the sunshine, painting

  streaks on the walls.

  I throw back the sheets.

  Blood. Lots of it. Great.

  My monthly visitor. At

  least I don’t have to feel

  so bad about not calling

  the doctor. No need for

  the pill today, anyway.

  I clean up, strip the sheets

  from the bed and take

  them down to the washer.

  The girls are in the kitchen,

  munching cereal. No school

  this week, they’re all mine.

  I put in a call to Trey. No

  answer. No surprise. I’m

  getting ready to leave a

  voice mail when the door

  bell rings. He’s here!

  LaTreya beats me to the door

  and flings it open. Mommy!

  she screams, throwing her arms

  around the slender redhead.

  Angela steps through the door,

  levels me with a shot of green

  eyes. Who the hell are you?

  Standing There

  Wearing zip but a long T-shirt

  and underwear, I

  introduce myself,

  “I’m Kristina, the girls’ nanny.”

  Angela is unimpressed. [Angela

  is totally irritated.]

  Well, I happen to

  be the girls’ mother. Where’s Brad?

  She’s pissing me off. “I figured

  that’s who you

  were when LaTreya

  called you ‘Mommy.’ Brad’s at work.”

  Another evil blink of snake green eyes.

  I thought I’d take

  the kids shopping.

  Girls, go put on your shoes, please.

  The kids hustle upstairs, which is good.

  Trying to take them could

  come down to blows.

  “Not without Brad’s permission.”

  The cobra strikes quickly. I don’t

  know who you

  think you are, but

  I’ll do as I please with my daughters.

  “No, I don’t think you will. You lost that

  privilege when you

  walked out the door.

  Now let’s give Brad a call, okay?”

  You are awfully possessive of someone

  else’s children. She

  looks me up and

  down. And you don’t dress like hired help.

  My face heats, but I stand my

  ground. “One call

  will settle this.

  Let’s go into the kitchen and make it.”

  It’s a Short Conversation

  Brad is on his way home.

  Angela sits at the kitchen

  table, waiting. The girls

  bound into the room, all

  giggles. I think I’m jealous.

  I know I’m jealous when

  Brad walks through the

  door. The look on his face

  is unmistakable. He loves

  Angela, through the pain.

  Daddy! cries Devon. Mommy’s

  home. She jumps into Angela’s

  lap and LaTreya moves to her

  side, protective. They love her

  unconditionally, pain all gone.

  I excuse myself so they can talk,

  knowing my life has veered,

  suddenly, surely. But exactly

  which direction it has veered

  in remains to be discovered.

  Four Cigarettes

  And two bowls later,

  Brad calls me downstairs.

  Without his saying a single

  word, I know I’m leaving.

  Angela has already left,

  and she took the kids with

  her. Not a good sign for me.

  But what about for Brad?

  Angela wants to try again.

  He pauses to let it sink in.

  I don’t know if it’s the

  right thing to do, Kristina.

  But the girls miss her so

  much. I have to think about

  what’s best for them, right?

  His eyes hold massive hope.

  I want him to be happy.

  “I don’t guess she wants

  a live-in nanny, huh?” I

  reach for an honest smile.

  He shakes his head. I’ll help

  you find a place, okay? Oh.

  There’s more. I have to give

  up the ice. I don’t know if I can.

  Wow. He really does love her.

  Could I give up the monster

  for Trey? I don’t know either.

  Luckily, it isn’t an issue.

  I’ll make you a deal. Take

  my stash. Pay me when you can.

  And I’ll introduce you to my

  connection. You’ll be okay.

  I feel like I swallowed

  a plate of mercury. Still, I go

  over to Brad, look up into

  his eyes. “Sure. I’ll be fine.”

  Just Like That

  Everything’s different.

  Just like that, everything’s

  changed.

  Just like that, every

  vestige of imagined

  stability,

  like a time-worried

  weave, has come

  unraveled.

  Not long ago, I believed

  I wanted complete

  independence.

  But living here with

  a borrowed family

  demolished

  that idea. I don’t

  want to be without

  companionship.

  And the monster

  doesn’t count.

  All Alone

  In a weekly

  motel, in a

  not-real-nice

  part of Reno,

  I look at my

  possessions,

  every damn

  thing I own,

  contained in

  one medium

  size suitcase

  and one box.

  At least the

  place is clean,

  no noteworthy

  bugs or stains.

  I sit in the red

  vinyl chair, flip

  on the twelve-

  inch TV, stare

  mindlessly at

  whatever’s on.

  And only now

  do I let myself

  cry.

  No Word from Trey

  Despite the desperate voice

  mails I left. I can’t stand

  sitting here, alone. No one

  to talk to. No one to laugh

  with. Only the monster for

  company. What fun is that?

  I’m going crazy. Fucking

  crazy. Even hanging with

  Mom and Scott would be

  better than this. At least

  I’d have Hunter to play

  with. A sudden wave of


  guilt rolls over me. With

  it comes a thought. Would

  they let me move back in?

  I dial the house, but get

  the machine. Aagh! Maybe

  I should just get in my car.

  and drive out there. [No

  one’s home, idiot.] I’ve

  got to talk to someone.

  Who can I call? Robyn?

  [She’s yanking off some

  guy from Toledo.] I know.

  I open the address book

  on my cell, punch some

  numbers, cross my fingers

  that a real, living being will

  actually answer. He does,

  first ring. “Hello, Quade?”

  We Talk for Half an Hour

  He’s kind, but not overly

  sympathetic. You’ve made

  some rotten choices. They

  caught up with you is all.

  The meth makes me want to do

  more than talk. I want to confess.

  “Have you ever slept with

  two women at the same time?”

  You mean “every guy’s

  fantasy”? I had the chance

  several times but no, I never

  took advantage of it.

  He is lead singer in a band.

  He describes a couple of

  times he had the chance

  to play sandwich meat.

  But for me sex is more

  than just about feeling good.

  It’s about feeling something

  special for someone.

  “You mean love.” It’s

  a statement, not a question.

  Loveless sex is meaningless.

  Has Trey concluded that?

  Exactly. The other guys

  in the band don’t feel

  the same way, but singing

  for sex negates the art.

  Okay, he’s a little strange.

  But I really, really like him.

  And I really need a friend.

  “Is it okay if I call again?”

  Anytime, little sister.

  Anytime at all. You know

  I’ve always cared for you.

  That hasn’t changed a bit.

  Intense. He cares for me.

  But does he care for me

  as a friend? Potential lover?

  Or—heaven forbid—little sister?

  Buzzed

  Bleeding. Bored out of my tree, I decide

  to take a walk. This part of town is run

  down, with cracked sidewalks and pot

  holed streets and dirty people, huddled

  against weary buildings. A few yellow

  streetlights buzz with effort, but don’t do

  much against the moonless night. Still, down

  town is only a few blocks away, and there’s

  plenty of light there—neon light, in rainbow

  colors, fountaining up casino towers. It’s spring

  break, so even though it’s very late, a lot of

  people flow along the main avenues. Strangers.

  They’re strangers, but I don’t care. I want to be

  among them. Flow with them. Bodies. Faces.

  Most from any place but here. I like looking

  at the faces. All races. Expressions. Joyful (winners).

  Hateful (losers). Confused (users). Suddenly

  a single face falls into focus. Familiar. Loved.

  “Chase!” I run toward him, parting the crowd.

  He sees me. Smiles. Frowns. Half-waves.

  I see now he’s walking with someone. Holding her

  hand. She’s prettier than me. And she’s pregnant.

  What Do I Do Now?

  I want to turn. Flee.

  Act cowardly. But we’re

  practically touching.

  [Play the game.] “Hey,

  Chase. Long time, no see.”

  He drops the girl’s hand,

  dares to reach out and hug

  me. God, it’s good to see

  you. He backs away. Oh,

  this is my wife, Amanda.

  Wife? Yep. Matching

  gold bands. [Don’t you

  dare cry. Suck it up.]

  “Hi, Amanda. I’m Kristina.

  Chase and I…are friends.”

  Amanda tosses her long

  blond hair. Smiles. Good

  to meet you. I’ve heard

  a lot about you. You were

  a hard act to follow.

  Chase told her about me?

  Yes, I guess that’s like

  him. Honest till it hurts.

  I don’t know what to say

  except, “Home for a visit?”

  Chase nods. We eloped,

  so my mom hadn’t met

  Amanda yet. Thought

  we should fix that

  before the baby’s born.

  We make small talk

  for a few minutes, my

  end of the conversation

  minuscule, compared

  to all of Chase’s news.

  Finally he decides,

  It’s pretty late. We’d

  better go before Mom

  decides we skipped

  town. Take care.

  “You too. And let me

  know when the baby

  comes, okay?” I watch

  them walk hip-to-hip

  down the street. And

  despite all the people—

  bodies, faces—swarming

  around me like pissed

  yellow jackets, I have

  never felt so abandoned.

  I Sit for a While

  On a bench along

  the River Walk,

  listen to

  the opera of

  the Truckee

  River at night.

  The water

  is high, after our

  massive winter.

  It rushes past,

  calling

  over the rocks,

  You’re not alone.

  I’m here, aren’t I?

  Coaxing,

  Oh, the places I

  can take you. Ride

  along with me.

  Cajoling,

  Come on. It’s easy.

  Just walk to the railing.

  One quick step over…

  Chanting,

  Easy. It’s easy. One

  quick step. It’s easy.

  I’ll sing you to sleep.

  One quick step.

  I go to the railing,

  tilt my face over, into

  a cold, black breeze.

  Into death,

  reaching out for me.

  It touches my face,

  tempting me,

  It’s easy.

  No! Not yet. I throw

  myself into reverse,

  head back to the motel.

  Bright and Early

  The next morning, Brad

  calls on his way to work.

  Glad you’re up. Is

  everything okay?

  “I’ve been up since day

  before yesterday. And

  everything’s fucked,

  like anyone gives a shit.”

  Okay, I’m kind of bitchy.

  Several reasons for that.

  Brad ignores the jab. I talked

  to Cesar. He’s good with

  meeting you. After work?

  “Sure. Pick me up? You

  know where to find me.”

  For the second time I’m

  about to become intertwined

  with La Eme. Mexican Mafia.

  Some totally tough Latinos.

  Definitely not the kind of

  guys you want to mess over.

  No problem. I’ll play straight

  with them. Cash and carry.

  That’s the only way to deal

  with Cesar and La Eme.

  Brad Picks Me Up

&nbs
p; Right on time. I figured we’d

  head for the projects. Instead,

  he drives well east of the city,

  to the little bedroom community

  of Fernley. It’s a silent twenty-

  minute drive. What’s left to say?

  Cesar lives in a well-kept

  mobile home on a ten-acre

  piece of high desert ground.

  When we pull through the gate,

  we are greeted by a rottweiler

  the size of a Shetland pony.

  The animal woofs like a bear,

  and drool slides from his jowls.

  The commotion brings Cesar

  (I assume) to the front door.

  León! Abajo! he commands.

  The dog drops to the ground.

  He’ll expect us to stay at

  least a half hour, Brad says.

  But he doesn’t use, so don’t

  even go there. He opens the

  door, slips from beneath the

  wheel, and I follow him inside.

  Furnishings are sparse. We

  sit around a small card table.

  Brad handles the introductions,

  and Cesar regards me carefully.

  After a few tense moments, he

  nods, deciding I’m not the heat.

  I don’t deal less than quarter

  pounds, and won’t front until

  I know you’re a regular. Then

  we can talk. How much today?

  His eyes travel back and forth