Two Kinds of Trouble
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City University of New York (CUNY) CUNY Academic Works Dissertations and Theses City College of New York 2011 Two Kinds Of Trouble Rebecca Minnich CUNY City College of New York How does access to this work benefit ou?y Let us know! More information about this work at: https://academicworks.cuny.edu/cc_etds_theses/507 Discover additional works at: https://academicworks.cuny.edu This work is made publicly available by the City University of New York (CUNY). Contact: [email protected] Two Kinds Of Trouble A Novel by Rebecca Minnich March 16th, 2011 Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirement of the requirements for a degree of Master of Fine Arts of the City College of New York 1 Table of Contents Two Kinds Of Trouble……………………………………………………….1-419 2 August, 10, 1977 – Madison, Wisconsin Chapter One “Does he have to move out? Can’t you make up? Are you sure? Did you try?” These are the questions Patty asked her mother. “Sweetie, yes. And I don’t expect you to understand. It’s just the way it has to be,” said Gloria. Her voice was cracking, her glasses fogging behind the wet dish towel in her hand, wrapped around red knuckles, rubbing a plate dry. “It’s all our fault,” said Patty’s brother, David, who was leaning over the back of a chair with his head in his hands like he was on a soap opera. “If we hadn’t been such rotten kids, this wouldn’t have happened.” Patty looked at David to see if he was serious. God, he was. She had heard about this. Children blaming themselves for their parents’ divorce. She had seen it on an ABC After-School Special. She had heard it was “normal” and a “common reaction.” “No, it isn’t our fault, David,” she said. “They weren’t fighting about us.” The eyes of their dog, Jinx looked up at Patty from under the dinner table. Could he tell what was going on? Was that why his eyes looked so sad? Or did he just want the last scraps of meat loaf on her plate? Without even knowing she was doing it, Patty found herself dipping her napkin in her water glass and wiping the smears off the vinyl placemat in front of her. 3 “Clean something. That’s what I do, too.” She looked up at Dad, who had said it. His eyes were blinking hard. She knew what he meant. He meant That’s what I do, too, when something is just so totally awful that there’s nothing to do. She wanted to disappear, to sink into a hole, to become a cat or a dog – too stupid to understand what was going on. And now, just to make everything extra horrible, her brother had become an After School Special kid. And he was the older one -- he was about to turn fourteen next month. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Shouldn’t he be the one telling her about life? **** Two weeks later, their dad moved into a “fully furnished” apartment near James Madison park. The carpeting in the hallway had mysterious spill stains the size of trash can lids. The apartment doors were painted pumpkin orange and had smeared peepholes that you couldn’t see through. The living room set was two dingy yellow-and-green chairs with foam rubber poking out of the cushions and a couch where you could feel the plywood through the arm when you sat on it. David and Patty had to bring their sleeping bags when they spent the night there. Dad said it was just for a little while. “Why don’t you make yourself at home, kids? I’ll order a pizza.” Dad tripped over the phone cord that was stretched across the living room floor. Back at their house they had four phones. He only had one. Dad punched in the number, reading it off a menu stuck to the fridge with a magnet. David watched him sideways. The kitchen was practically empty; just a couple of plates and glasses, and hardly any food. Dad’s whiskers were sticking out all over like he’d forgotten to shave and he kept wrapping the phone cord around his thumb, something he never normally did. When he got off the 4 phone his eyes kept darting back and forth to Patty, to the walls, the floor, to David once, but David wasn’t looking at him anymore. He was pulling little chips of foam rubber out of the hole in the couch arm. “Well, there’s the TV,” Dad said, and kind of waved at it behind him. Patty figured this was her cue to go turn it on, so she did. **** He used to slip little comic strips under her door late at night. Bunny’s Revenge! one comic was called. A cute little bunny with a fluffy cotton tail in the first panel; in the next, it grew giant fangs and claws. The bunny was coming for their cat, Mimi, who loved to devour the tiny baby rabbits that appeared in the back yard every spring. It ended with Mimi treed on the roof of the house crying for mercy while the bunnies bore fierce teeth and threw bunny poop at her from below. The comics were goofy and fabulous, full of cartoon animals and half-dirty words. David never got comics under his door. Dad only made them for Patty. Patty never showed them to anybody. She never saw him making them. She always found them in the morning, so she figured he must have drawn them in his study at night, when he was supposed to be writing, when nobody was allowed to knock or interrupt him for any reason. She wanted to ask him what would happen to the comics now. Who would slide pictures under her door at night, now? Nobody, probably. Mom didn’t understand comics. She didn’t even read them in the Sunday paper. Not even Peanuts. She wanted to ask Dad what she should do with the comics he’d made for her. Save them forever, 5 because she’d probably never get another one? But that seemed the wrong thing to ask, and she didn’t know how to ask it anyway. More and more things were becoming things not to talk about. Dad’s visits were every Saturday at 1:00. He usually took David and Patty out to Pizza Hut or to the Plaza Bar and Grill where they would eat cheeseburgers and fries, and Dad would teach them how to play pool. Patty got pretty good at the bank shot after a while. It was weird, in a way, spending all that time with him. He hung a few pictures on the walls of the apartment and that made it better. But it still had a kind of sad smell – like somebody else’s stale cooking. “So, when do you guys start school?” Dad asked one Saturday night, not to either one of them in particular. He was unwrapping some Jell-o cups for dessert. Patty was peeling off the bits of hardened cheese from the inside lid of the pizza box on the counter. “Right after my birthday. Last week of August. Don’t you even know?” asked David. He was trying to get the loose knob back on the stove, the one that kept falling off. Dad looked at him, but David didn’t look back. The knob needed all of his attention. “Mine is a day later. ‘cause it’s a different school,” said Patty. “I know it’s a different school, honey,” said Dad. He handed her a green Jell-o and his eyes looked sad and a little red around the edges. “Seventh grade already, wow.” “Yeah, wow,” said David, who’d already done seventh grade so obviously it was no big deal to him. “Well,” said Dad, handing David an orange Jell-o and wiping his wet hands on the tail of his shirt, “New schools for both of you. Should be an adventure!” 6 “Yep. I guess,” said Patty. They both dug into their Jell-o. David didn’t say anything. From the other room, Walter Cronkite’s voice was going on about people dying in Bangladesh. David walked out, eating his Jell-o. “Where are you going?” asked Dad. “Watch the news. I gotta be informed, you know.” When Patty looked up, Dad was rubbing his eyes in circles with his fingers. “Dad? Is it okay if I--” “Sure, go ahead,” he sighed. **** Mom said there was another woman. She said the other woman was someone who’d been over to their house a few times. A friend, even, who Mom was now calling “that backstabbing bitch.” Dad didn’t mention anything about her, and Patty figured that that was one of the things on the big, growing list of things not to talk about. It wasn’t a real list, of course. Just a big empty space growing between all of them, a blank, like an erased blackboard. “They were messing around for months, you know? Did you know that?” Gloria was taking the spices out of the spice rack, opening their greasy caps and sniffing them one by one, tossing out ones the didn’t measure up for some reason. She had sent David upstairs to take a shower. That meant she could tell Patty everything she was really thinking. Patty concentrated on being a good listener. That was one of her goals. She wanted her friends to say about her that she was a Good Listener.