Language Arts by Kallos Stephanie

Author:Kallos, Stephanie [Kallos, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

•♦•

There was always something terribly hollow and disturbing about the end of the broadcast day. Seeing the rippling American flag in black-and-white and hearing “The Star-Spangled Banner” made Charles feel as though the world had ended. Still, he felt compelled to remain and watch until the flickering test pattern appeared and the airwaves went silent.

After turning off the TV, he brushed his teeth and turned the back-porch light on and off three times; that was Catherine’s cue, and she emerged from her boyfriend’s car within moments, waving to him as he drove away. Charles never did meet him, but Catherine revealed that he was twenty-seven years old, rolled his own cigarettes, and worked for the railroad, bare-bones facts that only enhanced his mystery.

How was the movie? Scary?

Uh-huh.

What was it tonight?

The Mummy.

Oh, I’ve seen that . . . That is scary. You didn’t mind watching alone?

No.

After firmly tucking the covers around him, Catherine leaned down to pet Charles’s hair. Her small gold crucifix dangled close enough that he could move it with his breath.

Did you say your prayers?

Yes.

Good boy. Good night. Sweet dreams. Sleep tight.

She left the door slightly ajar so that a long thin spindle of gold from the hallway illuminated Charles’s room. It must have been Catherine Ryan’s experience, having mothered many of her siblings, that young children are solaced by light and connection.

When Garrett and Rita Marlow got home, Charles always woke up.

Did you have any problems?

Was he good?

Pleasantries were exchanged.

How much do we owe you?

Thanks so much.

Charles’s door was still open, admitting that yellow ribbon of light.

See you next week.

We’ll watch till you get home.

He pictured Catherine walking home to her large, sleeping family.

Good night! Garrett and Rita Marlow called. Thanks again!

He pictured his parents, side by side, waving woodenly, their faces fixed in atrocious, mummified smiles.

The front door closed. They were entombed.

His mother would tiptoe down the hall and close the door to his room. It was a thoughtful gesture, uncharacteristically tender, but did she seriously believe that a closed door would shield him from what always happened next?

. . . fucking tramp . . .

. . . selfish bastard . . .

. . . you and your big mouth . . .

. . . arrogant son of a bitch . . .

That’s how it was for couples like the Marlows: they attended tailgate parties, dinner dances, hospital-benefit headdress balls. They played pinochle and golf; they went bowling. In summer, they sunned themselves on backyard patios or next to country-club pools; in winter, they hosted fondue parties by the fire.

When they got home—and somehow they did, blood-alcohol levels notwithstanding—they paid the babysitters, looked in on the children. The next morning they woke up with hangovers, told their kids it was the flu.

They steadfastly maintained an active social life even if they hated each other, even if what played out between pre-party preparations and the next morning was a horror show.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.