The Universe is a Very Big Place (6 page)

Please, God, please. Let them be drawing rainbows and flowers. Puppy dogs and a happy family playing board games. If I haven’t called in a favor lately, I need this now.
 

The twins were deliberate in their work and every color in the box was used at least once. They occasionally glanced at one another’s drawings and nodded, confirming to the other that they were on the right track.

"Done," they said simultaneously, and held up their representations for the women to see.

Ms. Droll, seeing the pictures first, staggered back, leaving a space large enough for Spring to peek. The sight turned her cold. Both pieces of paper were covered in dozens, if not hundreds, of sad faces––big, small, thin, fat, red, orange and blue circles with dots for eyes and a turned down line for a mouth. Ms. Droll raced to retrieve her notebook and frantically scrawled away. "I’ve...never. In all my years.."
 

She could not finish the sentence.

"You don’t think this really represents them, do you? They are never sad. Quick-tempered, but not sad." Spring said. "They are playing you!" Spring gave the boys an angry glare and turned her attention back to Ms. Droll. "I told you this wasn’t a good game."

The counselor regarded Spring. "Miss Ryan. I’m not going to lie. I’m disturbed. I’ve worked with families for a long, long time and this is a first for me…beyond my scope of help. I’m going to have to find you some additional resources." Ms. Droll snatched up the pictures and began digging through a drawer in a file cabinet. The boys sat cross-legged on the carpet; blue-eyed and innocent.

"Well," said Ms. Droll, rifling through a fistful of pamphlets. "I looked over their school files and there seems to be nothing about depression...but...I’m not convinced. I am also not convinced that there isn’t any emotional neglect going on. Normal children do not draw pictures like
this
. I’m recommending that you and the father attend parenting classes and family counseling." She turned and gave them a sympathetic look. "Additionally, based on the recommendations of their teacher..." She tapped the notebook Mrs. Felding had sent over. "...I’ve decided to put the boys on Ritadate for their ADHD. I’m still not convinced they are hyperactive but let’s give it a try. Please take all of this to heart." Ms. Droll handed Spring a prescription and a brochure for a workshop called
Hugs Not Hits.

"
I can’t believe you boys did that to me," Spring hissed at them from the front seat. She turned in time to see them pulling plastic dinosaurs from their pockets. “You stole the dinosaurs, too? No McDonald's for either of you. Ever."

"What?" Shane argued. "She liked us. She gave us gum."

"She thinks I’m a child beater," said Spring, running her hands through her hair. "Do you want them to take you away from me?"

Blaine blew a strand of blond hair from his eyes. Spring could see the wheels turning in his head. "I had a friend who went to live with foster parents and they gave him his own room and a bike and took him to Disneyland. Maybe we could get parents like that."

Shane grinned. "Yeah we could get parents who take us to McDonald's
every
night."

Spring tightened her grip on the steering wheel, honking at the car in front of her who sat idling at a green light. "I sacrificed everything for the two of you ungrateful delinquents. I can’t believe you would sell me out for McDonald's."

"And Disneyland," corrected Shane.

Spring sat at the dining room table picking at her food. She was not a fan of lamb, but Sam insisted she try it after he spent the last few hours preparing it. She watched him take a bite. He let it roll around in his mouth, chewing several times before swallowing. Each taste was followed by a look so blissful his face could hardly contain it––his lips long and upturned, his eyes rolling back into his head. A look most people reserved for sex. There were very few meats he could eat since he converted to Islam and he relished every one.

"Good?" he asked and she nodded.

"I knew you’d love it," he said, dabbing the linen napkin to his chin. It was pastel green and Spring wondered when they had acquired them. Sam must have snuck in a trip to the mall while he was away on business. She would have to search his closet when he napped to ensure that napkins were all that were purchased. He had a tendency to acquire new, expensive items and never use them. If she were quick she could probably send them back to the store before the labels were off...and the bills were due. She clicked her fingernails on the table and waited until he took his plate to the sink and then she dumped her scraps into her napkin and headed for the trash can.

"Sweetie," he said, glancing at her empty plate. "You don’t have to gobble. There’s plen-ty." He dried his hands with a paper towel and went to scoop another serving for her, but she caught him.

"I’m stuffed. So, so good." She quickly shook the napkin into the garbage and turned to him, patting her stomach for effect.

"Not too stuffed for dessert, I hope?" Sam’s eyes sparkled as he hunched over, holding up one finger to show that he was not done with the surprises. Spring thought he looked a little like the Grinch after he had returned the gifts to Who-Ville. She slumped back into her chair as Sam scurried to the refrigerator and produced a monstrous bowl of brown mud.

"Mocha mousse!" He ladled a blob out for himself and an extra-large helping for Spring. It wriggled off of the serving spoon as if it were alive and knew its impending fate.

Spring wrinkled her nose distastefully. She hated the taste of coffee, its bitterness and smell, but Sam was watching her so she bobbed her spoon into the muck and put it to her lips.
 

"Mmmm," she nodded again, feeling guilty. Sam tried so hard to instill a sense of ‘culture’ in her, but her tastes were simpler than his. She couldn’t help it. Years of concession stand food tends to do that to you.

"It’s wonderful, isn’t it Pookie? I learned the recipe while I was away. Mustn’t eat too much, though, or you’ll get fat."

Spring bristled and thought about correcting him. They had been together two years now and in that time she had never once drank a cup of coffee or gained a single pound. She raised an eyebrow but let it fall before he noticed.

"The boys do okay during drop-off?" Sam feigned interest as he licked the last of his pudding from his lips. What he was really asking was what had transpired between herself and Jason.

"Yep, it went fine. I was so angry with Jason after my date with the counselor today I didn’t stick around to talk to him. I dropped them off and ran."

"So,” he said, pushing his empty dessert bowl towards the center of the table. “Tell me about your promotion."

Spring snorted. She had given him the rundown on the phone earlier and he had seemed unusually excited. "It’s hardly a promotion. Actually, one might call it a demotion."

"But you got a raise, right?" Sam leaned across the table, his eyes twinkling.

"Yes, a whopping fifty cents an hour."

"Not bad,” he said. She watched him do the calculations in his head. His face turned a different shade of white when he was working on numbers. "That’s twenty bucks more a week, almost a thousand bucks more a year.” He tapped the tips of his fingers together and smiled.

"A thousand bucks is not worth my soul,” she said, yanking up the bowls and walking towards the sink. She rinsed them out and hoped that it would not clog the drain. She had the memory of a movie Lanie had taken her and Chloe to see as children. Something about a glob of goop that devours everything in its path. She shook the thought from her head.

"But sweetie, it’s not like you have to
be
the condom."

"No, but I have to walk into public places holding hands with a penis. A
penis,
" she repeated for emphasis. "How would you like to walk down the street holding hands with a vagina?"

"Now that’s just silly." Sam shivered. "Vaginas are disgusting. Besides," he continued. "You are doing a good deed for the youth. That‘s something to be proud of." Sam was holding his head in one hand, propped up on the table, tapping his fingers on his knee with the other. The air conditioner caught what few hairs he had left on his head and they danced in a way that Spring found mesmerizing. Like fairies around a druid ring. She resisted the urge to pluck one. He guarded those last few hairs with his life.

"Meg, the PR lady, even wrote me a song to sing. A rap song." Spring rummaged through her purse on the table, dropping a plastic knife and a yellow crayon which Sam deftly caught before they hit the floor. At last she produced a white piece of paper folded into quarters. "Listen to this...

"...
His name is Casey Condom and he’s here to spread

The word about protection, just use your head

Though it feels real good not wearing a coat

Your breasts will leak and your stomach will bloat

So if you’re gonna do it, don’t be a lout

Cover it up, or cut it out...

"
The last line says to lean backwards and cross my arms," Spring added at the end.

"That’s actually not too bad. Short and simple. Gets the message across."

"What? Didn’t you hear me? They want me to rap!"

Sam took the paper from her, folded it up, and handed it back to her. "You’ll do fine, Spring. You always do."

The grandfather clock Sam had purchased at an antique shop struck six. No matter how many times a day that thing went off, Spring still jumped. Before the six dongs had been fully struck, Lanie emerged from the hall, blinking against the light like a groundhog in February.

"What is your mother doing here?" Sam’s nails dug into the back of Spring’s shoulders.

"I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you earlier...Chloe asked me if I could keep her awhile," Spring said. "You won’t even notice her, I promise."

Lanie wandered around the kitchen, arms raised in homage to some god or another. Her black muumuu with its bright purple flowers and her neon red hair gave her a clown-like appearance. "How can anyone not notice her?" Sam said, turning to face the woman. By the way Lanie’s fleshy body undulated beneath her dress, Spring could tell that Chloe had been feeding her well.

"Don’t mind me," said Lanie, picking up the serving bowl filled with Sam’s special mousse. She ran her finger along the inside rim and put it to her mouth. "Yuck. Who the hell eats coffee pudding? I’m a coffee drinker and I don’t even eat this shit." Lanie set the bowl down and retreated towards the living room. Six o’clock meant that it was time for her medication and
The Wheel of Fortune.