Rumble (36 page)

government can pay for bombs

and tanks and drones, but can’t find

enough money to fix their triggermen.

The Parental Element

Of my “see you Monday”

equation is Mom, who shows

up at home, announced to me,

but not to Dad and Lorelei.

I actually have a little fun with that.

Hey, not my place to interfere.

She walks through the door

(which, officially, is still half hers)

just about the time her not-quite-ex

and his girlfriend sit down to dinner

at (still officially half hers) kitchen table.

I have to admit I enjoy watching.

Mom, I think, shows great restraint.

Oh. I guess I didn’t realize we were

playing Wife Swap tonight, only

I don’t see my swap partner here.

By the way, not sure you know

this, Wyatt, but our bed? You might

want to get it fumigated. Before I

left, I was noticing these strange

bites. I researched. Might be bedbugs.

You two aren’t itchy, are you?

Score, Mom. Why does that warped

brand of humor seem familiar?

Mom Has Come

To collect the last of her personal

possessions.

Summer clothes—

shorts and tank tops, swimsuits

and lacy cover-ups.

Books, including the Bible

awarded her in second-grade

Sunday school.

Framed photographs,

excepting those where Dad

shared the shots.

Souvenirs and knick-

knacks she collected

over the years.

Anything that bore her stamp.

She has come with containers,

expecting to pack them up.

This surprise is on her.

Lorelei has already boxed

them and put them in the garage,

stacked on top of Luke’s.

As I Help Load

Boxes into the back of Mom’s Xterra,

I can’t help but notice something.

“Hey, Mom. Did you quit smoking?”

Her clothing and hair always reeked

before. But she smells neutral.

You can tell?
She totally beams.

It wasn’t easy. I picked up that habit

in high school. But Sophie insisted

no boutique anyone wants to frequent

can smell like used tobacco.

“Wow. That’s awesome. Guess

you don’t need this, then.” I hold up

one of her old ashtrays, spilling

butts and stink. “I can’t believe

Lorelei hasn’t already sterilized it.”

I dump the whole mess in a trash

can outside the garage door.

“What’s it like, living with hippies?

Are you eating vegan and running

around through the woods naked?”

She laughs.
Vegetarian, not vegan,

and I sneak cheeseburgers whenever

I’m in town. No nakedness. Ew. Ugly

thought. But we’re talking about selling

hemp clothing and such in our boutique.

“All natural. I’m sure your Heavenly

Guru would approve.” Probably a lot

more than Mom approved of my little

joke. Subject change in order. “So,

you’re going through with the boutique?”

Yep. We’re looking at storefronts

right now, in fact, as well as suppliers.

We hope to open by midsummer.

We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us,

but the positive energy is flowing.

“Positive energy? You’re definitely

skewing toward hippie. You didn’t

trade tobacco for weed, by any chance,

did you?” Ridiculous, although it could

explain the upswing in her mood.

She Actually Winks

When was the last time

she winked at me?

I’m taking the fifth. But I will

say sometimes the place smells

pretty darn
green
, if you catch

my drift. Not that I’d indulge.

Wowza! I think she might.

Guess it’s better than naked.

“Sort of weird, the way Sophie

turned out, considering the way

she was raised, don’t you think?”

She always did lean more

toward the spiritual than

the biblical. Used to piss off

Mom and Dad that she thought

animals had souls and deserved

heaven more than some people.

“Explains her going vegetarian,

and if I believed in souls, I’d say

she was absolutely right. You

still going to church regularly?”

I’m down to once in a while,

actually. Don’t give me that

look. I’m still a believer, but

I don’t like the politics. Maybe

my sister is rubbing off on me.

What’s going on in your life?

I tell her about school, the book

challenge, my attempt at swaying

the school board. I mention breaking

up with Hayden, and I tell her why.

You can bust your behind

trying to build a relationship

on attraction, but if you want

it to last, you’d better share

common interests. Believe me,

your dad and I are poster children.

We stuff the back of the Nissan,

but there’s no way we can fit

everything in. Not even close.

Any chance you could deliver

the rest? Luke’s stuff, too. You haven’t

visited your grandparents in a while,

and Sophie would love to see you.

I Promise

I’ll find the time, and I probably

will. Not like I’m overcommitted.

And when I do, I’m happy to stop in

and say hey to Aunt Sophie and Uncle

Shawn, but I’ll probably find an excuse

to skip the Creswell GPs. The old

coots would probably force-feed

the Old Testament to me. I’m tired

of people worried about picking up

the remnants of my unsalvageable

soul. Yes, they’re getting up there,

and if they drop dead tomorrow,

I’m sure I’ll regret not seeing them

more. But maybe not. And anyway,

I figure they’ve got a few years left.

That might change if they decide

their mission on earth has been satisfied.

Hey, I could be the key to their longevity.

Getting Ready for Bed

I think about Mom laughing again

and fall into flashback, where I store

snapshots of our past in obscure

folders. I find images of Luke

and me giggling like idiots over

absurd jokes Mom told. One

or two of those black-and-white

photographs even record Dad

laughing along with the rest of us.

Why does time erode relationships?

Is there a way to avoid its relentless

lapping? Is any love strong enough

to withstand the chipping away?

After witnessing the total corrosion

of my parents’ marriage, watching

my private foundation crumble,

it’s probably not so strange that

I clutched my love for Hayden far

longer than I should have, nor

that it’s such a struggle to chance

falling in love again.

By Thursday

News of the Cottage Grove,

Oregon, book challenge has

spread beyond the city limits,

and over the state lines. The AP

picked up the story from a local

newspaper and ran with it.

Variations have appeared in

the
Huffington Post
,
UK Guardian
,

and
School Library Journal
.

Mr. DeLucca has, in fact, positioned

himself very well, at least if name

recognition can get you elected

to the local school board. Here,

no doubt it can, and will, unless

that name spurs a negative association,

and that has become my own mission

on earth, at least for this week.

Looks like I’ll be attending my first

school board meeting tonight,

and not only that, but address

its members. Alexa has been

rounding up friends, and friends

of friends, to help stack the audience

a little more fairly. DeLucca’s faction

will arrive in full force, and if it

comes down to a handful of First

Amendment proponents versus them,

their voices are going to be louder.

Come to think of it, Alexa has been

amazing—a regular little firebrand,

stirring up the student body. I could

do worse (and have!) than this girl.

That’s what I’m thinking after school

as I put on decentish clothes (khaki

pants, a
clean
button-down shirt, scented

Rainforest Chic or some such garbage).

“Dress to impress,” the saying goes,

and I’m giving that my best shot.

Of course DeLucca et al. will

probably turn up in tuxes and gowns.

Somewhere in the House

A telephone rings.

So strange, hearing

that sound. Before

Lorelei, it hardly

ever rang. But now,

apparently, she needs

it for her business.

I can’t believe how

easily she assimilated,

requisitioned Luke’s

room and the phone

and the kitchen. I’d like

to quit being offended,

stop feeling like I don’t

belong in the home I

grew up in and lived

in my entire life. Yeah,

I know at eighteen I

should be thinking

about moving out,

moving on. Would I

be more willing to do

just that if it didn’t seem

like I’m being pushed out?

Someone Knocks

On my door rather urgently.

“Hold on. Let me zip up.”

When I open it, the Lorelei

on the far side looks one

notch beyond concerned.

That was your aunt on the phone.

“Aunt Sophie?” Why would

she call, unless, “Did something

happen to my mom?”

No, not Sophie. Uh . . . Quin?

She’s at the ER with your uncle

and would like you and your dad

at the hospital as soon as possible.

“Uncle Jessie? What’s wrong?”

Apparently he’s had a heart attack.

He’s undergoing angioplasty now.

“So, everything’s under control,

then?” This can’t be that bad, with

modern medicine and everything, right?

It sounds pretty serious. I’d go now.

Not Serious

As in “could die” serious, surely.

I just saw him a couple of days ago

and he looked . . . not great. He hasn’t

looked great, in fact, for weeks. Shit.

There goes my first school board

meeting. Oh, well. At least I’ll be dressed

handsomely in case I run into any cute

nurses. Oh man. I hate hospitals. I take

the time to call Alexa, let her know

where I’m going. “You speak for me,

okay?” If anyone can hold her own

against Frank DeLucca, it’s Alexa.

Do you want me to meet you

at the hospital?
she asks.

“You don’t have to do that. Hospitals

suck. The meeting will be a whole lot more

interesting than sitting around a waiting

room, tracing cracks in the ceiling

with your eyes. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Give Quin a hug for me, okay?

And, just so you know, I love you.

“I know.”

Lorelei

Catches me at the front door.

Would you mind giving me

a ride? I caught your dad

in a meeting. He’s on his way

to the hospital, and I’d like

to be there to support him.

The last thing I want to do

is give this woman a ride,

but in the seconds I have