David Gates - Preston Falls

One thing she observed, the act meant to degrade her — ^which of course he secretly liked best — actually gave her power: he would lose command after three strokes, at most, and it was over. His half-babies mixed with her wastes, and away it all went, leaving her free and clean and empty. She was supposed to trust him enough for it to be safe to act out her fantasies of being degraded. Or something. The old porno propaganda, which they've now got women believing. All it did, really, was allow her to see him.

Though not really. As it turns out. And in fairness, she didn't always think sex with him was stupid.

The phone rings, and she leaps for it.

Jerry Starger says, "Meeting."

When she gets home, only Rathbone greets her. Mel's upstairs, and Roger and Carol are in the living room, watching Rocky and BuUwinkle. The kitchen smells of microwave popcorn. Jean guesses it's good they show the old Rocky and Bullwinkles on cable; at least they're not violent, and the values probably aren't the worst, though the Dudley Doright stuff does make fun of heroes and chastity She calls Hi, then sticks her head in: they're both staring at the screen, and Roger's hand is feeling for the popcorn. It's like a diorama.

She goes back into the kitchen. Somebody's left a knife smeared with peanut butter just sitting on the counter; they're going to be the first family in Chesterton to have cockroaches. God, she's starting to sound like Willis, the difference being that she doesn't actually say anything. She wills herself to go wash the stupid knife, as well as the JOE mug, which has been in her purse all this time. But her legs suddenly feel like they're going to give out, so she sits down at the table. She's still sitting there when a commercial comes on, and at least Carol deigns to get off her duff and come in.

"Tough day for you?" she says, putting a hand on Jean's shoulder. "What would you like — tea?" She begins running water into the kettle. "How about a little something in it?"

"Regular tea is fine. Thanks."

"You haven't eaten, right? We were just having some popcorn."

"I gathered."

"What happened," Carol says, "poor Roger was starved when he got home, because today was Sloppy Joes. Why, after all these years, they insist on giving kids Sloppy Joes. . Anyhow. Mel said she was hungry too, so I fixed them alphabet soup and got some bagels out of the freezer, and then Roger discovered peanut butter on onion bagels. So none of us

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are hungry. But there's more bagels, and you're welcome to the rest of that soup."

Jean thinks, I'm welcome? "I don't know," she says. "I guess I should eat." She wills herself to stand and goes into the living room. In the commercial, some obnoxious teenager's saying, "I gotta have my Pops." She gets no acknowledgment of her presence from Roger except a slight intensification of his frown at the screen. She kneels and kisses his knee through a rip in his jeans: that startles him. He jerks his leg away and says, "We're watching Bullwinkle."

"Okay, enjoy it." She gets to her feet and goes upstairs, passing Mel on the way down. Who gives her a Hi and keeps going. She sits on the edge of the bed and surprises herself by beginning to weep, listening between sobs for footsteps. When she reaches the gasping stage, where you either keep on or decide to get yourself under control, she takes a couple of deep breaths, goes into the bathroom, washes her face without looking in the mirror and dries off with a smelly towel. She can hear the tv going and can't for the life of her make up her mind whether to ask Carol if their homework's done or to ask the kids themselves.

She opens the hamper to put the towel in, and it's right up to the top with dirty clothes, mostly Mel's. And God knows what's on the floor in Roger's room. Well, so much for getting to bed early. Does Carol do anything around here besides feed them any crappo food they want anytime they want and then park herself with them in front of the tv? (Jean knows she's so out of line here it's not even funny, like a husband who comes home and runs a gloved finger over the mantelpiece.)

She goes back downstairs and finds Mel, who's lately been on this tv-is-for-losers thing, is watching too; Bullwinkle's into the Boris and Natasha part. These are kids, bear in mind, who don't know why it's funny that he's called Boris Badenov, though as a matter of fact if you put a gun to Jean's head all she'd be able to come up with is that there's something called Boris Godunov, so she's a great example. She opens the refrigerator and finds the saucepan of alphabet soup; Carol has added chopped green pepper, which Jean could do without. Their mother used to say Carol was "fixy," meaning she liked rearranging the furniture or trimming old dresses with lace and binding tape or fiddling around with the proportions of recipes. Alphabet soup and Bullwinkle and Sloppy Joes: you could really believe for seconds at a time that everything's the

PRESTON FALLS

way it used to be. She dumps the leftover soup in a bowl and sticks it in the microwave. She punches numbers, it goes beep beep beep beep and Mel calls, "Mom? What are you making?"

"I'm warming up some soup," Jean hollers back. "You want some?"

"I don't think so. I don't know, maybe."

"Yes or no?"

"I'm thinking, Mother."

"Shut up, I can't hear," says Roger. "You made me miss that part."

"Chill out, Roger," says Mel. "Mom? I don't want soup, but is there anj^ihing else?"

"I don't know," says Jean. "Why don't you get up and look?"

She immediately wants to apologize, but maybe all that's called for is to make the next thing you say kinder.

She opens the refrigerator again to see what there is to drink — then remembers the tea. Steam's billowing out of the kettle. She turns off the gas and hefts it: well, still enough left. She squirts green dish soap into the JOE mug and scrubs around with the sponge, rinses and dries, puts in an Irish Breakfast tea bag and pours the hot water over it.

The microwave beeps; she carries the bowl of alphabet soup over to the table, sits down and almost starts weeping again when she sees she left the mug of tea on the counter. Just get up and get it, she tells herself.

Soup's good. She must've been hungry.

She hears more commercials start up (they're always louder) and feels like she's making some mean-spirited statement by sitting out here when they're all in there watching tv together. She scrapes the spoon around inside the bowl for the last little smidgen, a leprous white d. Unless it's a b. Or a p. The soup's making her sleepy, warming her from inside; she could just get under the covers right now and bag everything. She puts the bowl and the mug in the dishwasher and goes into the living room. Yet another commercial.

"Is that it for Bullwinkle?" she says.

Roger recognizes this question as not so innocent. He says, "It comes back on for a second."

"Is your homework all done?"

''PAmost,'' says Mel.

"Yeah, almost," says Roger.

"Liar," says Mel. "You didn't even start."

"I was going to, but you were making noise," says Roger. To Jean: "She was talking on the phone."

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"Okay, both of you," Jean says. "Scoot."

They don't move.

Jean picks up the zapper and zaps the tv off.

"Hey, wait," says Roger.

"M^^-om," says Mel.

Even Rathbone gives her a dirty look.

"You know the rule," Jean says. "Aunt Carol was nice to let you watch Bullwinkle. Now it's time to do your work."

"I'm hungry" says Mel.

"Take an apple up with you. I want you both up there spit-spot." This is a family joke, from when they'd read the Mary Poppins books, though the kids have probably forgotten by now where it ever came from.

They trudge, but they go.

"I feel like such a witch," Jean says to Carol.