God-Shaped Hole by Tiffanie DeBartolo

Author:Tiffanie DeBartolo [DeBartolo, Tiffanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2013-11-08T07:00:00+00:00

As we drove back over the bridge, Jacob’s gloom permeated the car like thick smoke. Thomas Doorley had broken his heart yet again. I felt like I’d instigated the whole event and, ironically, I of all people should have known better. But nobody ever really learns, do they?

There’s nothing more pathetic than dreaming dreams you know can never come true.

You’ll never find your gold on a sandy beach

You’ll never drill for oil on a city street

I know you’re looking for a ruby in a mountain of rocks

But there ain’t no Coupe de Ville hiding at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box.

“Coupe de Ville?” Jacob said bitterly, speaking directly to the radio. “Hell, a Pinto would’ve been a prize.”

“Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad” was the last song in the world I felt like listening to. It was Jacob’s day of pain. We had no time for any of my traumatic childhood memories. That one took me back to the night a strange woman named Violet Lyngstad called our house. I answered the phone and she said, “Hello, my name is Violet Lyngstad. Tell your mother that Curtis is in love with me. Violet Lyngstad is my name.”

“I got ‘Violet Lyngstad’ the first time,” I said. The whore didn’t need to say it twice.

When I told my mother what Violet the Whore Lyngstad said, my mother threw a platter of pasta at my father, and dragged me and my brothers out the door.

“Curtis, I’m leaving! This is it!” she said.

As soon as we got in the car, Mom turned up the radio. That was so she wouldn’t have to explain anything to us. While we drove down Mulholland, Chip complained about having homework to finish; Cole, who was only about four at the time, curled up next to me and sobbed himself to sleep; and over the airwaves, Meat Loaf tried to convince us that it was okay to settle for less than we deserved by accepting being wanted and needed, by just throwing in the towel on ever being loved. Groovy. Just what I always hoped life would hold for me: nothing special.

My mother checked us all in to the Beverly Hills Hotel for the night, and when we went back home the next day she thought Dad would be waiting for us, a changed man, but he’d just gone off to work like normal. He might have been an asshole, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew we’d be back. Instead of being met with flowers and apologies when she returned, all my mother got was cold spaghetti and broken glass all over the kitchen floor. When I thought about the lack of rewards my mother reaped from her marriage, two out of three wouldn’t have been half bad for her.

I can’t lie

I can’t tell you that I’m something I’m not

No matter how I try

I’ll never be able

to give you something

Something that I just haven’t got

Jacob reached over and slammed the radio off.

“Good move,” I said. “With our luck, Harry Chapin would be next on the play list.

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