Mazie Baby (5 page)

He was
late for dinner and she’d watched for his arrival. Before he spoke, she snapped
at him. “Damn it, Cullen! That’s the second hole in the wall this month.” Two
weeks before, he’d been upset over a cancelled gig and punched the bedroom
wall. An indent in the shape of his fist remained there for weeks before he
spackled and painted over it.

He glared
at her and tossed his guitar case onto the landing. “It’s just drywall, for
Christ’s sake.” He let out a heavy exhale, ran one hand over his head and along
the length of the ponytail that hung close to his waistline.

“It still
has to be fixed.”

He held
his palm toward her face. “Just don’t. Not today.”

She had
learned when to stop talking. He was upset about something that had nothing to
do with home. Nothing to do with her.

He pried
his shoes off with the toes of the opposite feet and kicked them toward the
rubber mat against the wall. They landed askew on the linoleum. He brushed past
her and grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the top and drank most of it in
three long gulps. He stood with his back to the counter, one hand gripped the
edge.

“Well, are
you going to tell me what’s going on?”

He wiped his
mouth with the sleeve of his denim jacket. “You know that agent,” he made air
quotes, “that was going to shop my demo around?”

Mazie
nodded. “The one you paid the three grand to for studio time and expenses?”

“Yeah,
that guy.” His lips pressed into a thin line. He looked at her, his eyes
heavy-lidded. “He won’t return my calls. There won’t be any studio time.” He
shook his head. “Guy’s a goddamn shyster.”

“How do
you know?”

“Because I
called the studio. It’s a scam. He’s not a real agent.” He rubbed his forehead
with the arm of the hand that held the beer. “Three fucking thousand dollars.
That’s five shows, not counting costs. And to top it all off, another gig got
cancelled. They got a better act.” More air quotes. He pulled out a chair and
slumped into it, leaned his arms on the table and rested his head on his arms.
“I think it’s time to give up. Time to get a straight job.”

Mazie sat
next to him and rubbed his shoulders with one palm. “Don’t say that. Cullen, I
can get a second job. You’re too talented to give up yet.”

He sat up,
his face red, jaw clenched. “Yet? You already planning for me to fuck this up
permanently?”

Her brows
furrowed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You don’t
think I can take care of my own wife? You have to take care of me, support me?
What am I, a child?” He stood and paced the kitchen. “What kind of man do you
think I am? You think I’m a gigolo or something?”

“No,
Cullen.” She jumped up from her seat and tried to put her arms around him. “I
love you. You’ll make it, it’s just a matter of time. I’ll do anything to help
you see it through.”

He pushed
her away and she staggered against the table. She regained her footing just as
the back of his hand slammed into her face.

She
covered her cheek with one palm and stared at him, her mouth agape.

His face
contorted and tears sprung from his eyes. “Oh, God. Oh, God.” He reached out
for her and engulfed her with both arms. “Mazie Baby. I am so sorry. You know I
didn’t mean it, right?”

She pulled
away and nodded. “I know.”

He slumped
to the floor and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. His entire body
trembled. “You’re all I have, Mazie. You’re everything that is right in my
life.” He rested his head against the cupboard door and looked up at her. “I am
so, so, sorry. You believe me, don’t you?”

He was so
vulnerable, so broken. With his parents long dead and no brothers or sisters,
he was completely alone. Except for her.

Her heart
melted at the sight of his red and swollen eyes. She dropped to her knees and
slid up to him, placed her hands on either side of his face. “It’s okay. I
believe you.” She kissed him and brushed aside an errant strand of hair that
had come free from the elastic shackle.

“I’d be
lost without you, Mazie.” He wiped snot from his nose with the back of his
hand. “If you got another job, that would be okay. Just for a few months. I
just know something is going to come along.”

She
smiled. “Me too.”

~~~~~~~~

Mazie stuck Ariel’s report card to
the fridge with the heart-shaped magnet her daughter had made out of clay four
years before. She ran her fingers over the page. Grade seven, and all of Ariel’s
marks were excellent, nothing under eighty percent. Except math. Damn math.

She called up the stairs. “Ariel,
dinner will be ready as soon as your father comes home.”

No answer.

Mazie leaned against the wall, one
hand on the railing, and stared up the stairwell. “Are you doing math
homework?”

Footsteps shuffled overhead. “Yes,”
came the tentative reply.

Mazie smiled. Like mother, like
daughter. Some book had caught Ariel’s imagination and taken over her every
waking moment. For Mazie it was Goosebumps. Her mother had hated that she’d
loved those books.

The truck engine reverberated
against the house and rattled the window of the back door. She never understood
why he had to have it so souped up, like a teenage boy. It wasn’t like he
needed to compensate for anything. Wasn’t that the saying? Big engine, small
penis? Maybe in his case it was big engine, small heart.

“He’s home, Ariel. Come now,
please.”

Mazie pulled the macaroni and
cheese casserole from the oven and placed it on a trivet in the middle of the
table. Ketchup between Cullen and Ariel, hot garlic bread still in the foil,
steaming and savoury, to the left of the casserole, and bowls of salad, already
dressed, beside each place setting.

He walked in the back door, slid
off his shoes and placed them on the mat, the heels lined up against the wall.
He took the short steps two at a time, and met her at the fridge door where
she’d just pulled out a cold beer. He was smiling. A big, genuine-looking
smile, and his eyes glinted with joy.

He kissed her cheek. “Happy Friday,
darling.”

She smiled at him. It was hard not
to when he looked like the old Cullen. Like the man she fell in love with. “You’re
in a good mood.”

He took the beer from her and rummaged
through the drawer for the opener. He popped the top and raised the bottle.
“Last day of layoffs and I’m still standing.” He grinned and took a long pull
on the beer.

“That’s wonderful.”

“Damn straight it is.” He tucked
two fingers in his front pocket, pulled out a fifty dollar bill, and held it up
in front of her. “Maybe take Ariel to a movie or something.” He looked her up
and down. “Or maybe a manicure, just for you.” He took one of her hands and
inspected her fingernails. “You’ve got to take better care of yourself. I might
start wandering or something.”

She swallowed and glanced at her
feet.

He lifted her chin with the fingers
holding the cash and winked. “I’m just shittin’ ya. Go on, take it. Do
something nice for yourself.”

She reached to pluck the bill from
his fingers.

He whipped it away with a flick of
his wrist.

She started at the sudden movement.

He laughed. “Jeez Louise, take a
chill pill.”

She flinched at the sound of her
middle name. Jeez Louise. Mazie Baby. At least he amused himself.

He pulled her toward him and hugged
her hips to his, then tucked the bill into her back pocket. He whispered in her
ear, “You can make it up to me later.”

Ariel ran down the stairs. She
hesitated at the threshold to the kitchen. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hey, pumpkin.” He held out one
arm.

She glanced at Mazie.

“Well, come on. Give your dad a
hug.”

She inched toward him and put her
arms around his waist, a slight grimace on her face.

He squeezed her to him and smiled. “You
hungry?”

“Yes.”

“Well all right then,” he clapped
his hands, “let’s eat.”

They sat at the table in their
normal seats. But unlike any normal day, the tension in Mazie’s shoulders had
infected Ariel. And for once, Cullen was immune.

She sat straight in her chair. Her
gaze shifted from her daughter’s uncertain smile, landed imperceptibly on her
husband’s genuine grin, it’s presence on his face almost as disturbing as the
scowl that normally lived there, then followed a familiar path to her plate,
the tabletop, a scan for dirt on the floor, to the napkin in her lap and back
to Ariel.

Her daughter’s eyes were electric,
her movements animated. She was trying too hard. Or was lulled into believing
that the glimpse of his monster personality was just a blip, and she was
relieved he’d returned to some sense of normal.

When Ariel told of her day at
school, about how the teacher had read her story in front of the whole class as
an example of the right way to write a story, Cullen interjected with a few
‘atta girls’ and something about always being better than everyone else.

When Cullen finished eating, Mazie
cleared the plates and took a tub of ice cream from the freezer.

“Isn’t it report card day?” Cullen
finished off his beer, reached behind, and retrieved another from the fridge.

“It’s on the fridge.” Ariel
pointed.

Mazie took a deep breath. Please
ignore the math mark. Focus on the rest of it, the higher grades, the teacher’s
comments about what a wonderful student Ariel was, the effort she put into
trying to get math right.

“Well, go on pumpkin, bring it here.
What was our deal?”

“Ten dollars if I got all eighties
and better.”

“Right. So how’d you do?”

Ariel glanced at her mother before
sliding the paper out from under the magnet. She hesitated and sighed. Her eyes
shimmered with the threat of tears.

Mazie placed a bowl of ice cream in
front of Cullen, another for Ariel was cool in her hand. She rubbed her
daughter’s shoulder. “It’s all right, bug. It’s a great report card.”

Cullen looked up at Mazie, one
eyebrow arched.

Ariel handed the paper to her
father.

He scanned the page, nodded with
his lips pursed and eyebrows raised in appreciation. Then his face shifted and
clouded. He didn’t move, but his eyes turned on his daughter. “Sixty-two in
math?” He didn’t raise his voice, but there was no atta girl in his tone.

“I tried, Daddy, honest I did. I
just don’t get it.”

Mazie tapped the paper with one
finger and pointed to the teacher’s comment. “Look, he says she puts in the
work, does all the assignments. She tries her best, but she just doesn’t have a
math mind.” She mussed her daughter’s hair. “Must have inherited that from me.”
She smiled at Ariel.

Her daughter’s face calmed and she smiled
back.

“Bullshit.” He threw the report
card on the table. “She’s as lazy as you are, that’s what she inherited. She
has to try harder.”

Mazie stared at the report card and
swallowed. “We could get her a tutor.”

He crossed his arms and stared at
her. “A tutor? You think that’s what I do in the bathroom every morning, shit
out money?”

“Well, then maybe you could help
her. You were good at math.” Mazie placed Ariel’s ice cream on the table.

He backhanded the bowl and sent it
flying off the table. It hit the fridge and bounced onto the tile. Ice cream
flew everywhere, but the bowl didn’t break. Small mercies.

“She needs to get her sorry ass up
to her room and study. And no ice cream.”

Mazie pressed her lips together.
Stand your ground and don’t cry. Not this time. She rubbed her hands down the
front of her pants in a vain effort to make them stop trembling. “Maybe she’ll
be a writer, or a journalist. Not everyone can be good at math.” She stuck her
chin up and looked into the eye of the storm. “And even if she were, she might
not use it later.” She stood straighter. “You never used it, so what does it
matter?”

He raised that one eyebrow, the
omen brow, the precursor to all things painful. His hands flat on the table, he
inched his chair back and stood. He crossed his arms and walked to the sink,
stared out the front window, his shoulders near his ears. He was either trying
to keep his shit together, or about to fling it at the fan. “Ariel,” he said,
his voice low, his back to them. “Go upstairs.”

Ariel slipped her hand into Mazie’s
and tucked her body against her mother. “Mom, come with me. Help me with my
homework. Please?” She never took her eyes off her father’s back.

“Your mother has to clean up that
mess she made. Go, Ariel.” He looked at her over his shoulder. “Now.”

Mazie pulled her hand away from
Ariel’s grip and kissed the side of her head.
“Go, bug. Do as Daddy says, remember?”

“But, Mom…”