March 14th, 2009
JerryAnn
I fall asleep on my desk at work a few days before St. Patrick’s Day. I dream I’m grocery shopping, but when I get to the ice cream section, instead of ice cream I find a freezer full of half-sized Toby’s from the waist up, neatly shelved. Each Toby wears a different shirt, but I grab the one of him in a red turtleneck dickey, and when I place him in my cart, he comes to life. A big smile spreads across his face, he grabs my wrist and says, “Jerry, Jerry.”
I jerk awake. Gavin stands in front of my desk with his hand on my wrist. “Jerry, uh, hi, I left something on the desk.” Gavin lets go and steps back. He’s been promoted to evening shift manager. Our shifts overlap by thirty minutes, and the clock says my shift ended five minutes ago. I shuffle Gavin’s papers around to cover up my sleeping drool. How long have I been sleeping? Handing him the study guide from the desk, he hesitates, making longer eye contact than he ever did when we were dating. “Are you all right?”
It’s a loaded question. I don’t sleep much, but when I do sleep, dreaming about Toby hasn’t helped me get him off my mind. My Dad’s engaged, and while I’m happy for him and Natalie, their happiness adds to my misery. It also doesn’t help that Gavin and Beth are back together.
“Yeah, I’m fine, just having trouble sleeping.” I haven’t slept well since my kiss—the Toby kiss.
Gavin nods. “I’m sorry.” He shuffles his feet awkwardly, avoiding my eyes. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry I used you to get Beth back. I was a jerk.” He turns to leave but stops in the door frame and faces me. “Try warm milk.” He leaves and heads directly over to Beth’s register, and they share a smile, warm and gooey.
My drive home is lonely, and I ponder Toby’s smile and question what possessed him to shave his mustache. My cell phone rings.
“Hi,” I answer without looking at the number.
“JerryAnn.” It’s Mom, her voice chipper. “You answered!” She’s genuinely excited.
“Hi, Mom.” Talking with Mom is better than loneliness. I think.
“Your Dad told me he’s engaged. Is it true?” Her voice is high pitched.
“Yep, it’s true.” A month ago.
“What’s she like, his fiancé…Natalie?”
This has to be the most awkward conversation of my life. My estranged mom wants details about my dad’s fiancé. I know more about Natalie than I do my actual mother.
“She’s a nice lady.” She’s more than that. She’s made Dad into something I never thought he could be. She’s made him sensitive.
“And your dad…is he happy?” She sniffles.
“Yeah, he’s happy. Annoyingly happy.”
The line goes quiet, and I think I’ve lost the connection and almost hang up, but then I hear more sniffling. “Are you crying?”
“Yes,” she sobs.
I was ten when Mom left, so my perspective might be skewed, but I was pretty sure she hated Dad. I’m not sure what to do or say at this point, but hanging up probably isn’t the right choice.
Mom gushes, “I’m just so happy for him.”
Whoa…Mom, the woman who left us, is crying tears of joy at the prospect of Dad marrying again? “You hate Dad!” The line is silent, and this time I probably have lost the connection.
She clears her throat. “What makes you think I hate your dad?”
The question is stupid. “Oh, I don’t know, the fact that you left us when I was a little girl and never looked back.”
She’s crying again, but this crying is weepy, loud, and annoying. I want to hang up. She is ridiculous. “You are so emotional.” The second the words come out, Mom’s crying gets louder on the line, and then the call drops.
I park in front of my apartment, and sit in the car for a minute, flooded by the memory of the day I decided to be a basketball player.
Mom carried a suitcase to the door of our apartment and Dad sat on the couch with me.
“I’m leaving this time, James,” Mom said from the door.
Dad didn’t look at her. “Sure you are.” He put his arm over my shoulders. “Can you at least wait until half-time?” It wasn’t the first time she’d threatened to leave. It had become a weekly thing.
Mom set her suitcase down, stormed into the living room, and stood in front of the television. “James, this is it. This time I’m not coming back.” Mom cried big tears and then knelt on the floor in front of me. “JerryAnn, do you want to come with me?” She whispered the words and put my hand in hers, but there was no confidence behind the question because Dad was the constant in my life. I nestled closer to him, and Mom stood up and kissed my cheek. Her lips were wet, and the sweet smell of smeared makeup hit my nostrils as she whispered, “I love you,” then kissed Dad on the cheek and said, “Goodbye.”
That time was different…final. Dad felt it too, but he kept his face glued to the screen as if this was like all the other times and if we acted like it wasn’t different, it wouldn’t be. When a commercial came on, he looked over at Mom as she headed toward the door. “You are so emotional.”
Those were his last words to her before she left. That night, Dad and I went to the UNM women’s basketball game, where I spilled my popcorn and I cried, but I wasn’t crying about the stupid popcorn. I cried because Mom left. She said she loved me, but you don’t leave people you love.
My cell phone rings. It’s Mom, but I don’t answer. She calls a few more times and then sends a text: “We need to talk.”
I call into work and leave a message with the store manager that I’ll be taking the week off. I’ve saved up plenty of personal days and will only miss one physical therapy appointment, and thanks to Toby and my new battery, my car is ready for a long drive. Dad bought me a GPS for my car, so I punch in Mom’s address, grab a few things from my apartment, and hit the road.