The Darling by Lorraine M. López

Author:Lorraine M. López [Lorraine M. López]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University of Arizona Press
Published: 2015-07-11T00:00:00+00:00

Minutes later, Caridad pulled into the driveway alongside the van owned by the metal-refinishing company that employed Gray. Dave Wong, his work partner, usually drove this home. The two of them must have taken a break or knocked off early to have a beer at the house. She slid out of the ticking car into sunshine so bright, the sky pulsed with white heat. A fresh crop of dandelions dotted the lawn, now strangled by snaky cords of crabgrass. She and Gray should pull weeds while the soil was still damp and pliant. Though the Loudermilks chopped down fruit trees and tore apart the barn, they did nothing to improve the yard.

“I’m in here,” Gray called through the open door. He stood in the living room, still wearing his navy painter’s pants and light blue T-shirt with its red-and-white company logo.

“Where’s Dave?” Caridad asked

“Sick. I had to take him home.”

“Sick sick or sick?”

“Sick.” Gray mimed tipping a bottle to his lips.

Caridad nodded, catching a whiff of her skin—traces of vitamins, Nash’s hair oil, and, unmistakably, the sweaty musk of sex. “Hmm,” she said. “That’s not good.”

Gray shook his head. Both he and Caridad worried that Dave’s drinking would jeopardize the job for Gray more quickly than he would manage on his own through distractibility and a slapdash approach to physical work. “I called in, though, said he had food poisoning. Supervisor told me to drive him home and keep the truck overnight.”

“Whew! It’s hotter than blazes,” she said. “I need a shower.”

“Wait,” Gray said. “I have a surprise for you.”

Caridad shrank back. Though it had been months since he’d touched her, she feared he’d embrace her. Instead Gray stepped aside to reveal a TV tray laden with crackers, cubes of cheese, and slices of apple. “Voilà!” he said. “I even have two bottles of Cold Duck chilling.”

“Champagne!” Caridad’s mouth flooded. “But what are we celebrating?”

“This.” Gray handed her a thin bound volume that he pulled from the back waistband of his pants. “Check out the table of contents.”

A monochromatic photo of a hand holding a rusted bucket was displayed on the cover, and below that image appeared the words Points and Lines. It was an issue of the university’s literary journal. She opened it and flipped to the table of contents. She was stunned to find her name listed and across from that the title of a poem she’d written, “The Bluest Clown.” It was a series of verses about Mimi drifting off to sleep—her moist brow, the translucency of her fluttering eyelids, the way she puckered and released her coral lips as if suckling while she slept. Then the poem shifted, describing the toddler being drawn, even seduced into the gaudy circus of her unconscious by a sky-colored fool.

“But how . . . ?” Caridad had been distressed by

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