Perfectly Broken by Robert Burke Warren

Author:Robert Burke Warren
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fiction Studio Books
Published: 2015-11-12T14:10:49+00:00

Chapter 15

first aid

“Hey hon,” Beth is saying into the answering machine. “Hello, hello, hello, hello, pick up the phone, pick up the phone . . . Damn. I was hoping to catch you. Where are you? Hm. Well, we missed the noon movie so we’re gonna get some stuff at Target, like batteries and supplies, in case we lose power, and some fresh sheets for the futon, and then we’ll catch the two p.m. of Piglet’s Big Fucking Movie. Guess that puts us home around five-ish. Hope your clean-up’s going OK. Thanks again for doing that. Wish you were here with us. The kids are in good form, they’re adorable . . . Katie just keeps screaming Ebba in every store. It’s hilarious. Call me when you get this, let me know if you need anything from Target, like razors or socks or anything. I know you need underwear. Love you, bye.”

I’m screening Beth’s call, my brain numb from beer and Clorox, my body hollowed out from crying, bleeding, and shouting. I’m on the futon couch, where Paul and Melora will sleep later, my hand throbbing in a tatty beach throw pressed into service as a guest towel. It still smells of Coppertone, the towel, from a trip to Christa’s family’s place in Ocean City, pre-kids, about six years ago. Christa and Beth in one-pieces, walking ahead of Trip and me on the beach, Beth jumping up and down as a pod of dolphins swam beyond the breakers. She was like a little kid, perhaps the happiest I’d ever seen her.

The blood is clotting at last. I’m polishing off my third Rolling Rock when Christa pulls into the driveway. The radio weatherman drones on.

“A flood warning is in effect for all of Ulster, Columbia, Litchfield, and Dutchess counties,” the weatherman says. “This system is moving fast from the west, bringing up to five inches of rain an hour. The combination of this and the northerly moving storm, plus the prospect of heavy snowmelt, will make for extremely hazardous conditions. We recommend stocking up on batteries, bottled water, and canned goods. Power outages and flooding are expected, especially in areas along waterways. Do not drive across flooded roads. Those living near streams and rivers are advised to seek higher ground . . .”

Christa stomps in from the kitchen with a brand-new, cellophane-wrapped Red Cross first-aid kit in a white plastic box.

“Jesus, Grant, what the fuck happened?” She’s standing over me in gray paint-spattered sweatpants and a holey, black Run DMC T-shirt, green eyes bulging, hair tamed into a tight ponytail. She smells of sawdust.

“I’m OK, I’m OK,” I say, holding up my left hand as if she’s going to strike me.

“Brianna said you fucked up your hand. What the fuck? It smells like a public pool in here.”

“It does, it does. But the mold, he hath been vanquished.”

For the second time today, a woman looks at me like I am crazy. Because I am, a little.

“I cut myself on a nail,” I say.

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