Therapy Mammals by Jon Methven

Author:Jon Methven
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rare Bird Books
Published: 2018-06-11T21:35:47+00:00

Forces Of Failure

On the bus, Gus is excited, bouncing off his seat, his boyish happiness a relief as he peppers me with questions. Are Toby and Iliza dating? That topic is never discussed with me, a mere father. Will he be coming to dinner regularly? It’s not possible. How come he didn’t know that Iliza wasn’t home? Toby’s knowledge of my daughter’s whereabouts matters little because something very bad is going to happen if he continues on this course. On Lustfizzle this morning, “94 Photos That Will Make You Love Carrots.” Devin Brenner has emailed a summary of last night’s Cooperative Marriage meeting, which I neglected to attend. Expect mostly average feelings during the morning rush hour with anxiety developing midmorning and turning into shades of failure. Wear your sunblock because the murder index is moderate to high. It’s been fifty-seven days since I misinterpreted the atmosphere.

I have begun regularly smoking cigarettes again, a habit I have not practiced in fifteen years. I glance down on the bus to see my left hand innately flipping an unlit smoke, the cadence of the activity relaxing. Gus does not mention it and I am able to conceal the cigarette before my neighbors notice. Inside Gopa, things are eerily similar to every other morning: eye drops, hand sanitizer, water bottles, sunscreen, hair gel, children with backpacks connected to ropes so they do not wander toward their own destruction. I am still quarantined in the stroller waiting area with the part-time nannies and drivers, though I notice that Topher has excused himself from our detention to freely stroll the lobby. I am better off in detention where I can eavesdrop on arriving parents. A bus driver smokes a cigarette, a habit I have taken up now that I’m down to just one pill. I join him for small talk, both of us familiar with the mechanics of multi-passenger transport.

“Ever killed anyone?” I ask.

“Beg your pardon?”

“With the bus, I mean. The saying, ‘If I get hit by a bus.’ It ever happen?”

“Clipped a few cars. Never killed anyone though.” No one chats up bus drivers. He is happy to share. “Bullets don’t always kill, but people panic when they get shot. That’s what causes the fatality. Same with buses. Person gets run over, they think—this is it. Typically, if you get it in your head you can survive, you probably will.”

The stolen bus is old news now that the team has dropped three straight games, whispers about the missing coach, the failed season. Many parents are without their prescription supply, looking haggard and jittery as they arrive, jealous as I puff away in the disinfected safety of our building’s periphery. There is a subtle thread of interwoven madness that jibes with my frequency, those who intuit what I have done, allowing me to pass winks and nods with parents who return the sentiment.

The Callisters’ nanny was anonymously reported to immigration, and rather than hire an attorney to defend their employee of nine years, they are searching for a new one.

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