I suppose you're right, Child. Not empty. Not really. From where I am now, everyone looks like a hologram--a construct of light, air, and intention--even Karen. Especially Karen. I wish you would stop coming here. All these years, you keep coming here as if he'll change his mind and be someone to you, to us. Go, Dolo. I'll stay. This business has never been finished.
Karen pulled a loose wave of brown hair off her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. The dog wagged its tail and followed her up the steps and into the house.
You look like shit, Karen. You do. Close the front door behind you. She did. Like that. It won't keep me out. I interrupted your family every time the television flickered. And here I am again. Not so easy to get rid of, am I? My girl and Garrison's is at the end of your block, and I am tapping away at you like an annoying habit.
Karen opened a drawer in the entryway console, upended bills and wrinkled post-it notes, dug past pens and pencils. Spare keys jingled. "Lillith," she said as she replaced the drawer and its junk and continued to the kitchen where the sink was full of bubbles losing their foam.
Where is he while you stand here at the sink washing dishes with your quivering hands? And why do they quiver? On any given night so many years ago, it could have been she who found you lingering in front of our house. Oh, I knew. Jesus God, woman, you were obsessed.
Brown crust clung to the sides of the pot, and Karen scrubbed. The kitchen smelled of cajun spices.
Fine, I understand. You had your family. I get it. A mother must protect. I may not have been much of one, but I understand this well. Still, it appears you were not successful. Nothing makes you feel more of a failure than a pig-headed child. This Lillith of yours, good luck. What did she take?
"Cigarettes."
"Excuse me?" Garrison wore gym shorts and a Cubs t-shirt with half-moon stains under each armpit. His bare feet made naked thuds on the hardwood as he cleared the doorway.
"She took your cigarettes."
"Who took cigarettes?" Jars on the refrigerator door rattled as he opened it. He bent in half and stared into the light.
Karen scrubbed at the pot until her forearm pulsed. "Lillith took your cigarettes--the ones you think no one knows you hide in the back of the hall console."
Garrison pulled a bottle of Snapple from the back of the refrigerator and closed the door. The cap popped when he twisted it open. He drank loudly.
I hate the way your Adam's apple slides up and down when you drink, asshole.
Garrison breathed heavily with one hand on his hip then tipped the bottle back, and guzzled again, each swallow exploding noise bubbles in the kitchen's atmosphere.
"The girl is back," said Karen. She turned on the water and watched it push soap off the pot and into the sink drain.
Garrison replaced the cap on his Snapple.
"Have you sent a check this month?"
Garrison opened the refrigerator.
Karen turned off the water, resting her lower back against the sink. "Have you?" The water seeped through her pants and cooled her skin.
"She doesn't cash them," he answered.
"It doesn't matter." Karen left the pot on the counter and dried her hands on a towel. She found the checkbook in a drawer full of miscellany, filled the spaces, and left it open on the kitchen island. "Sign it. I'll mail it tomorrow."
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