Page 75 of Mr. Picture Perfect
“Lauren, I even told you, I said to you just the other day, this new job’s gonna have me out working graveyard shifts now and then, but you were nose-deep in yourwineglassand—” He dodges another pillow. “Oh, I hope you’re having fun, Lauren! Real fun!”
“Nothing’s open at five in the morning, Robert, nothing at all for miles! You think I’m an idiot?”
“I think you’re overdue for atripto Dr. Gould out in Fairview.”
“Oh, nice, real nice. Let’s gotherethen, shall we?”
“Lauren, I’m tired.”
“And y’know what I’m tired of?” She comes around the couch and stands in front of him. “I am s-so tired of—of sitting around in thisgoddamnedhouse. What’s the point of my life anymore? What am I even doing, Rob? I just sit around all day, up half the night, while you stay out untilfivedoingGodknows … orwhoknows …”
“Lauren, I said—”
“Even the damned dog’s thinking it! She was whimpering and scratching at walls all night, keeping me up like a horror movie! I thought we had a rat!” Then she spots me. “And where in the hell haveyoubeen all night?”
My dad turns, not having noticed me. He’s a tall man with a handsome shaven face and broad shoulders, but when my parents are in the middle of a fight, he hunches over and looks so small, his eyes heavy and sad.
But now I’m the one in the spotlight. “Was just staying over at a friend’s,” I answer calmly, still holding the pillow inadvertently thrown my way with one hand and my packed-up breakfast in the other. “What’s … What’s going on?”
“Oh, same that’s always going on,” my mom spits back. “You and your father are out playing with whomever you want until all hours of the night, both of you living your lives and not giving a shit about your mother’s.”
“Mom,” I say, shocked by her tone, but she’s already turned and left for her room. The door slams behind her. After a moment, I turn to Dad. “I know you got a new job, but five in the morning?”
His sadness turns into resentment when he looks at me. “Oh, you, too? I’m gonna get it from you, too?” He wipes his forehead of sweat, then swipes his keys out of a dish on the counter.
“Dad, I was just asking.”
“I’m going to the store to get your grandmother some meds.” He stops at the back door. “Guess she picked something up at the festival. If you didn’t have your head so far up your own butt, maybe you’d think about these things before taking your elderly grandmother to a crowded place with so many sick people. It isn’t safe. She’s not the spring chicken she used to be, Cole.” Then he heads out before I can answer, door slapping shut at his back. I see Porridge in the window as she follows him for a few paces, stops, then sits and just watches him go, panting.
Every time after my parents fight, the entire house feels like its soul has been sucked out by an enormous vacuum and ejected into outer space, leaving the house feeling twenty times emptier than it was before. The silence nearly hurts my ears.
I slowly move to the couch to return the pillow to its rightful place, then set my breakfast down on the coffee table. Staring at the sweetly-packed container, I find myself thinking about Noah’s parents eating breakfast together. The bubbly, infectious sound of their laughter. The smell of toast and coffee.
I guess I’ll eat Mrs. Reed’s breakfast as soon as I change.
I hope I can still imagine it smiling back at me.
I peek into Nan’s room down the hall. She’s sitting up in bed with her electronic reader and glasses. The moment she sees me, she gives me the biggest eye roll ever and smirks. “Is World War 6 over with out there?”
Despite the heaviness in my chest, I put on a quirky smile. “Ithasended, though there doesn’t seem to be a clear winner.”
“There never is when war’s concerned.” She brings her voice down. “You doing alright, hon?”
My smile persists. “Of course. But what about you? Dad said you caught something at the festival?”
“He’s overreacting. I swear, I coughedonceand the man loses his marbles. It’s his guilt speakin’,” she explains with a roll of her eyes. “His guilt because he’s gone all the time. Now I won’t dare to presume what he’s doin’ out that late, but it’s clear somethin’ isn’t right with those two, and if neither are gonna be adult enough to figure it out …” She lets out a long sigh—which then turns into a rather nasty coughing fit. “Shoot, maybe Ididpick somethin’ up.”
“Can I get you some water? Cough drops? We have some good ones in the medicine cabinet I can fish out if you—”
“Not a chance in frozen Hell,” she cuts me off. “Those cough drops taste like ass. I’d sooner feed them to my mortal enemy, and she’s no longer with us, God rest her wicked soul. And I’ve already got myself some water here by my side. Now can I get back to my book already? It was gettin’ to a spicy part, and this may come as a surprise, but your grandma doesnothave enough spice in her life, and surely not with your dear parents bickerin’ like they do.”
“Of course.” I start to back out of her room.
Then she adds: “That’s all we can do, hon. Make light of the big dramas in our lives. It helps keep our spirits up. After you live enough life, you realize how so unimportant everything is. We’ve got so little time to do what we want to do as it is, don’t we? The math tells you we don’t have enough time to possibly do it all in, either. So why are we wastin’ so much time yellin’ at each other?” She makes a face. “Seriously, by this point, it’s just annoying.” She adjusts her glasses. “Now get on goin’, sweetie, I have got a steamy scene I’ve slogged through twenty-three chapters to get to. These two sure love to drag it on. Got enough sexual tension between them to power Houston and Dallas and everythin’ between.”
I smile. “Love you, Nan.”
“Go on, go on.” She returns her attention to her book as I back out of the room, gently closing the door.
