A Blue So Dark by Holly Schindler

Author:Holly Schindler
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-03-26T21:47:51+00:00

It is important to remember that too much emotion on your part can upset your schizo relative even firrther. Don't shout, or wail, or cry, or nail the door shut.

call the attendance secretaries the next few days, pretending to be Mom. Aura has the stomach flu. No, believe me, you don't want her in class.

But by Wednesday afternoon, voices from Crestview start attacking Mom through our answering machine: "Yes, Ms. Ambrose, ah-this is, ah, Pat Harrison," a songbird voice chirps, "and I am no longer allowed to, ah, simply take a call regarding any more of Aura's absences. I must have a doctor's excuse note on file by tomorrow. If, ah, you don't mind."

Yeah, well, maybe I mind.

"Ms. Ambrose, this is Janet Fritz at Crestview High with a matter that needs your immediate attention." She pauses to slurp her soda. "It's in regard to Aura's academic career.

What academic career?

I spend the day playing Mom games, trying to manipulate her into doing everyday things like eating. I make a toasted bacon and peanut butter sandwich (Mom's favorite) and take it to her bedroom, where I tell her I'll mix up some paint for her, only, gee whiz, it sure is taking me a long time to stir it up, and Mom, could you taste that sandwich I made for myself and tell me if I've done it right? And golly, look here, I put in too much white again. Gosh, gosh, Mom, don't worry. I'll get it. Just a minute. And here, could you check this shade, and how's that sandwich, did you try it? Take another bite. What do you think about that maple bacon, and just a little blue, and oh, my! How did this happen? Mom's eaten the whole sandwich. That's okay, though, Mom-don't sweat it. I can make myself another.

Jeez. It's like I'm the girl with the six-month-old, not Janny.

"Here, that shade's still not right," Mom says, shooing me away from her paint cans as she chews the last bite of her sandwich. "Come on, move-I've almost got it. I'm so close now. Don't you get it? I can fix it, Aura, if you'll just get the hell out of my way."

I spring for a pizza that night. I know I shouldn't blow so much on one meal, especially now that Mom's apparently not going to be teaching anymore and we'll be existing solely on Dad's child support. But Mom hasn't eaten anything but a crummy peanut butter sandwich all day. And seriouslywho can resist the smell of a piping hot pepperoni with extra cheese?

Not Grace Ambrose, that's who.

I'm grateful that she eats; it makes me feel a little less like a full-body fist, but I only pick at mine. At this rate, I could probably be the cover model for Anorexics Digest in about two more weeks.

I shove the pizza leftovers in the fridge, and as I slump against the sink, I pretend I get a note from one of the pepperonis:

Dear Aura,

Thank you for being kind enough to put us in your Frigidaire.

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