Being Audrey Hepburn (32 page)

“She just can’t take care of us anymore, Lizzy,” she said, tearing up as the chair legs came down again. “We’re on our own.” She was going to cry. Me too. We hugged.

“I’ve checked the bank accounts,” Courtney said through the tears. “There’s hardly any money for these bills. And if I start working at the bar again, what’s going to happen to Ryan?”

We looked across to the living room, both of us thinking about Ryan, even though he didn’t seem to notice or care.

“He’s already a head case,” she said. “There’s this letter from the school district. He’s supposed to go to summer school if he wants to move up to the next grade. He could get sent to juvie if he doesn’t.”

After we exhausted our tears, we sat for a little while in silence.

“Well, I’ve got a plan,” I said. She looked at me like I was crazy.

“Yeah sure,” she said and reverted to her standard “you don’t know shit” expression she has given me since the day I was born.

“You’ll see,” I said. “This is going to work out. It’s bad now, but a lot of times good comes out…”

“… When bad things happen,” she said before I could. “I know that BS from Nan, and it’s for suckers…” She stopped herself because that was what Mom would have said. “I’m sorry, Lizzy, you’re the only one who thinks things can change. You’re the only one in the family who still believes in hope. I just don’t think it’s going to happen.” Courtney took another drag on her cigarette and let out the smoke in one long weary breath.

“What did they say about Mom?” I asked.

“They don’t know. She was going through really bad withdrawal symptoms. I don’t think they’re DTs, but they have her sedated. She was shaking and all that shit. I think there are some hopeful signs on the liver tests, but the cold-turkey is killing her.”

“The drinking is killing her,” I said.

“When do you start college?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in on me.

“I’m not going,” I said and waited for the look of alarm on her face. When it registered, I though she might throw something at me.

“Don’t even say that,” she said, astonished. “Mom will freak.”

“I have another plan,” I said.

“The Hole?” she asked with astonishment. “Word is you’re toast there. Have you even been to work for the last week? I have no idea how you pay for all the stuff you do.”

“I’m getting a job in fashion.”

“How are you qualified for that? Something with your dyke friend?”

“That’s not your problem. I’m going to figure it out.” I’d wilt if she lit into me, so I slipped ten crisp one hundred dollar bills from my purse and placed them on the table. I thought she was going to fall out of her chair.

“Did you rob an ATM?”

“Hopefully this is enough to cover the bills for now. Let’s figure out how we’re going to get Ryan to summer school, but first things first,” I said and headed for the kitchen cupboards.

In the cupboard above the stove, I found four half-gallon bottles of Gordon’s. Checking the cabinet below the silverware, I found three more. Then I went to the freezer and found three bottles of some other generic vodka I’d never heard of and put those on the table.

“What are you doing?” Courtney asked.

“Help me,” I said. Courtney thought a second, put out her cigarette, and got up and went right for Mom’s stash in the laundry room—four bottles of Captain Morgan’s rum and a bottle of Southern Comfort.

“What are you guys doing?” Ryan asked. He must have heard the bottles clanking, and it was the one thing that made him stop playing his game.

“Come on, Ryan, help us,” I said.

In a few moments, we were all combing the house for Mom’s booze like some perverse treasure hunt. The bottles were everywhere—in the garage behind the paint cans, forgotten bottles under Mom’s bed, an unopened case in her closet, half empties under the La-Z-Boy, and another shoved way back behind the towels in the bathroom cabinet. I think it was kind of blowing Ryan’s mind, because he knew Mom drank a lot, but this was totally off the charts.

We gathered them from the kitchen table, all thirty-one of them, and started taking them outside, lining them up in the driveway.

“Now what?” Ryan asked as he placed the last three bottles in a row.

I walked over to the first half gallon of Gordon’s, picked it up, and threw it down as hard as I could against the cement by the garage door, smashing the bottle to pieces, the vodka pouring out, running down the driveway. I picked up another bottle and smashed that one, too.

Ryan and Courtney looked at me as if I had lost my mind. Then Courtney picked up a couple of bottles and slammed them against the sidewalk so hard we all had to jump out of the way to avoid the glass.

The three of us took turns screaming as we decimated the bottles that had wrecked our mom and our lives. The running rum, vodka, and Southern Comfort mixed together made a sickly alcohol smell like sugar and wood stain as it rose up from the pavement. As grim as it was, we all started to laugh.

I’ve never loved my sister and brother as much as I did that very moment—the three of us standing in a pile of glass, the stench of alcohol running down the driveway and into the gutter. If the neighbors were watching, they would have thought we were insane.

Courtney got a couple of brooms, and we swept the glass into a garbage can while Ry sprayed down the driveway with the garden hose. Hundreds of dollars of alcohol down the gutter.

We all sat on the curb and watched as the sun began to set.

“That was fun and everything,” Courtney said, calming down, “but what the fuck are we going to do about all the other shit?”

“Like I said, I have a plan.” I got up and walked back inside. “Let’s take a look at those bills for a starter.”

Courtney and I began tallying up everything, and it was clear that, as she became sick, Mom had stopped keeping it together. All that ammonia in her blood, I guessed. Some bills hadn’t been paid in three months. Ryan ran into the room, interrupting us.

“Hey, there’s a taxi outside,” Ryan said, running into the room. “And some old lady is getting out.” Just then, the screen door opened.

“Sorry I’m late, Lisbeth. I hadn’t realized it would be such an ordeal to check myself out of the old-biddy home,” Nan said as she entered, dropping her overnight bag on a chair.

She was as bright and vibrant as I’d ever seen her. “Betty nearly had a heart attack. I thought they’d have to finally institutionalize her.”

Courtney regarded Nan with bewilderment.

“Hello Courtney,” Nan said and threw open her arms.

“Hi Nan,” Courtney said sheepishly. She seemed like she might cry, but instead went running to get one of those special heart-melding Nan hugs.

“Ry, say hi to Nan,” I said. He had already retreated to the living room, where he was thumbing the controller of his game.

“Just a minute, I’m in the middle of a raid,” he said.

“Excuse me, young man?” Nan walked over to the television set.

“Oh hi,” Ryan finally said and went back to his game. Nan walked around to the other side of the television set.

“Hmm. Let’s see how this works.” She ducked down and ripped the television cord out of the wall.

“Hey that’s my game!” Ry was in shock.

“Well perhaps you can play some more after we get this house in shape. Let’s start with your mother’s room so I have a place to sleep tonight.” Nan grabbed Ryan by the wrist with her iron grip and led him to the stairway. Courtney’s eyes widened and turned to me, stunned. I shrugged.

“Hey Nan,” she said, “can I give you a hand?”

“Why certainly, dear.” Nan gave me a wink as they all started up the stairs. I began to follow, but she stopped me.

“You go along to the hospital, dear,” she said. “I know you have some important things to attend to.”

48

The hospital was quiet that evening when I arrived. They had moved Mom to a different unit, so it took a little while to find her. But even the volunteer at the information desk seemed to know that I was Ella Wachowicz’s daughter, so they took me back as soon as they could.

As I passed the nurse’s station, all the nurses and the orderlies and doctors were watching me. A few nodded hello.

When I reached Mom’s room, Nurse Brynner was coming out the door.

“Your mom is going to be so happy to see you,” she said in her gravelly voice.

“How is she?” I asked.

“I have to let Doctor Newton give you the update,” she said. “But he’s off duty at the moment.”

“I meant, how is she doing? You know…”

“I know. I’ve quit now, too,” she said. She held her hand up to show me. It was trembling. “Maybe it’s just all the coffee I’m drinking so I don’t feel it. But I promised her she wouldn’t have to do this alone. It’s not as bad for me; I’ve still got a husband at home.”

God, I was determined not to cry.

“That’s okay, dear. You go and make your mother happy,” she said, managing a grin. “I’ll be back in a little while to give her a sedative.” As she left, I took a deep breath and walked in. Mom was sitting up; all the catheters and monitors had been removed and she was reading the newspaper.

“Hi Mom,” I said. She gave me a glare as if she had never seen me before. I knew that look. It wasn’t good. I sat down quietly and waited. She didn’t say anything for the first few moments. Already her face seemed less bloated and the splotchy redness was gone, but she appeared gray and weary.

“So what’s the story with college?”

I closed my eyes, summoning my courage. “I’m not going,” I said.

She put down her paper and glared at me like she wanted to leap out of bed and strangle me. I could tell she was trying to keep from getting angry. Her whole body was tense.

“It’s the
plan,
” she said.

“I know, Mom, I…”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen to me,” she said, not letting me get a word in. “They’re keeping me here, and I don’t even know if anyone will let me work again.” Her eyes glistened, like there might be tears. But she was too tough to let it show. I could see that she couldn’t stand being weepy. She turned away to quietly wipe her eyes. For the first time, she seemed vulnerable.

“Have they said that to you?”

“Are you kidding? Now that they know, they’ll never hire me back. Why? Are you suddenly an expert?” she demanded.

“Mom, they have to let you work. As long as you go into a program like AA and you get better, they can’t fire you now.” I wanted to hold her hand or hug her. I started to move closer but wasn’t sure she’d let me.

“Where did you get that?” Her belligerence resurfaced.

I sat back.

“I was talking to Nan. She’s at the house,” I said, knowing the impact.

“What?”

“Yep, a regular staff sergeant, she’s whipping the house in shape for when you get home and getting Ryan to finish summer school. Courtney’s helping.”

That made Mom go silent. We sat there for what seemed like ages.

Mom kept shaking her head in small little nods, staring off into space. She was so tired that her eyes closed a couple of times. Everything seemed to weigh on her, and I realized I had no idea what was going through her mind.

“Yeah, Nan tried to call a couple of times,” she added finally.

“Did you talk to her?”

“No,” she answered, as if my question was absurd.

“Well, it’s time you guys start talking again because I can’t be there.” I waited for that to sink in. “You need her help.”

“And where are you going to be?” Mom asked, but I didn’t have a chance to answer because Nurse Brynner came in.

“Ella, isn’t it great to have your lovely daughter visit?” she said as she adjusted her pillows and settled her bed. Mom sat silent as a stone. “Don’t mind your mother’s grumpy face,” Nurse Brynner added. “It’s just stuck that way. She’s really happy you’re here.”

I could imagine these two tough old battle-axes sitting around shooting the shit about everyone.

Mom was silent as her friend handed her a cup of water and some pills, which I assumed were sedatives. I slid over to the side table, where Mom couldn’t see me, and slipped out my envelope of poker winnings. I peeled off twenty one-hundred-dollar bills and put them in her pocketbook, hoping that in some small way it would make up for whatever money she had wasted on my college tuition.

As I got ready to leave, Mom was falling asleep.

“We’re not done talking about this, Lisbeth,” she said, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“I know, Mom. You rest. I’ll be back soon.”

49

Fried pickles, bacon grease, and cheese. Those were the first smells that hit me as I walked in the door at the Hole. Everyone was so busy that no one noticed me. It was like one of those scenes from the movies where you attend your own funeral. It was easy to see that the Finer Diner was moving along perfectly well without me, almost as if I had been erased and was never there.

“Two cows with bacon and cheddar, table eleven,” I heard Buela say from the kitchen and ring that annoying little bell. Cheddar? That was new to the menu. I saw Jake pick up the order, and I felt my heart sink, wondering if he’d even talk to me this time.

He was wearing one of his skinny Ts and those loose-fitting jeans with no belt and the little white apron the guys got to wear instead of the pink one. I hated to admit it, because it’s just so weird, but something about a guy in an apron turned me on.

Crystal was all hot in her tied-up work shirt, shredded Daisy Dukes, pink apron, and heels. Who could possibly wear heels while working in a diner? Me, I’d face plant into a plate of corned-beef hash in no time. But Crystal handled it with ease. It hurt to watch as she came by and leaned on Jake’s shoulder in that familiar way I used to.

“What are you doing here?” Buela asked. I hadn’t seen her come up behind me.

“Oh hi, Buela,” I said. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in. I came in to tell you that I have to quit, because my mom…”

“You can’t quit,” she said. “I fired you two weeks ago.”

“Really? I didn’t know I…”

“Save your breath. I don’t want to hear about it,” she said, heading back to the kitchen. “Your last check is in your locker. Take your things and leave. And don’t think you’re taking your pink apron. That stays here.” As if anyone would want to have one of those greasy pink aprons. Maybe somewhere they were much-sought-after authentic diners-of-America souvenirs. I passed Buela’s office and the freezer room, and then I ran into Jake. I wasn’t sure he’d say anything to me, so I tried not to make eye contact.