Deep Fried and Pickled (Book One - The Rachael O'Brien Chronicles) by Ray Paisley

Author:Ray, Paisley [Ray, Paisley]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-11-19T05:00:00+00:00

Happy New Year!

Hanging out with the old crowd in Queens.

Rang in “87” with a ball drop (the one in Times Square).

Vaguely recall the night. Will share what I remember.

See you in a fucking few.

-M-

OVER BREAK I PRAYED FOR divine intervention. Anything would do, a lightning bolt that erased Trudy’s memory of Dad, a torn gluteus maximus to keep her in her apartment. I was open to options, but nothing extraordinary happened. The novelty of Trudy lasted the entire break. In addition to her, Dad found a new obsession. Locks. He rekeyed the house and the shop. Each night, I heard him turn the deadbolts on the front door and slide the chain. Then he moved to the back door. I wondered if he found it therapeutic. I guessed he worried that Mom would just show up and let herself in. His worst fear was my wish.

Scumbling and glazing the Francois Quesnel portrait kept me busy. I spent more time with my father than I ever remember, and during the day the meticulous detailing kept my mind from overly obsessing about Mom, Bridget, Nash, Patsy, Mitch and Clay. In the evening, when I snuck in my room to sip bourbon and smoke ciggies, I pondered all of them.

The night before I was due to leave, Mom called. She and Dad didn’t say much. I wondered if they’d spoken before about what she was doing, if she needed money and when she was coming back, but dad hadn’t shared anything with me. Mom asked me about my first semester, and I gave standard answers to her standard questions. After I hung up, I found myself staring at the clothes that still hung in her wardrobe. Dad didn’t know what to do with her things and neither did I. As much as she hurt us, it didn’t seem right to throw them away or give her stuff to charity. Not yet. Gripping a handful of fabric, I pulled it to my face, drinking in the only touchable thing left of the mother that raised me. Standing in her closet, I realized even though I considered my dad overly neurotic and annoying, he loved me. I could easily read his emotions, they weren’t hidden or complicated. Sometimes you don’t realize what you have until it’s gone. I wasn’t ever going to let go of him.

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