Read Online Love and Other Natural Disasters by Holly Shumas - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Holly Shumas
Ads: Link
for
example—that was all I could have.
I was antsy for the rest of the
night, waiting for my mother to take her Ambien. I didn't want to risk going
into Jon's e-mail while she was awake. That's because you shouldn't be going
into it at all, I scolded myself. It was supposed to be a onetime thing.
The baby was moving again. She'd
been moving almost constantly—I remembered that from late in my pregnancy with
Jacob—but it was so frenetic right then that I wondered if it was in support or
reproach.
Finally, after an episode of Law
& Order that seemed as long as Gone with the Wind, my mother
gave me a hug and said she was going to bed. I followed her down the hall and
went into my bedroom. From there, I could hear her nightly bathroom ritual. Why
did she have to be such a dedicated flosser ? It was
cruel, what she was doing to me.
Ten minutes later, she was out of
the bathroom and settled on the futon. I waited five minutes, then tiptoed to
her doorway. When her breathing became even and regular, I pounced on the
computer.
Remember, just the Sent folder. That's
all you get.
But I wasn't prepared for what I
found. Which was nothing. It appeared he hadn't responded at all to her
Thanksgiving e-mail. Did that mean he'd called her instead? Or was it possible
that he realized what I was doing and wasn't using this account anymore? Had I
driven him underground? Or had he decided to have absolutely no communication
with her, not even to tell her it was over?
Of all the possibilities, the last
one (my favorite) seemed the least likely. It was just too mean. Not Jon's
style. Besides, if he had done that, there probably would have been e-mails
from Laney asking what had happened to him.
That meant he'd called her, which
was just plain out of my jurisdiction. I couldn't know if he'd told her they
were through, or to lay low for a while, or that they'd have to keep it to the
phone from now on. Well, I couldn't know that night. If I kept checking the
e-mail, I might find out something in a few days or a week. He might write an e-mail
to someone else saying what had happened, for example.
Unless he suspected me.
No, he wouldn't suspect me. I
wouldn't do anything like this.
I wasn't this kind of person. Jon knew that.
I hurriedly shut off the computer.
I'd done all I was permitted to do that night. There was no sense sitting there
and inviting more temptation. Anything else would have to wait for another day.
My mother was leaving tomorrow, and I'd have the room all to myself.
There was a red terror alert at the
airport, which meant We'd slowed to an absolute crawl. My mother was departing
from the farthest terminal.
"I can just get out and
walk," she offered, reading the tension in my face.
"No, don't do that," I
said. "I'm. sure it'll clear up soon." I was not at all sure of that,
but Jacob was with Jon for the day, so I had nowhere to be. "Is Charlie
picking you up at the airport?"
"He's supposed to. But you
know Charlie."
"I know Charlie."
"Are you working
tomorrow?" she asked. She was digging in her purse, finally producing a
pack of Juicy Fruit. She thrust it toward me; I shook my head no.
"I work every weekday. I just
work shorter hours. You know, Jacob's school hours." I'd worked the same
job with the same hours for two years now. She'd always been bad with details.
"That's nice."
We had actually stopped moving
completely. I put the car into park.
"My casserole didn't come out
right this year," my mother said. "People left a lot on their
plates."
"It tasted fine to me."
"If I come up next year, maybe
I should make something else. But that casserole used to be your favorite thing
when you were little. I think Tony was the first one to make it for us."
Ah, yes. Tony, the drunken
philanderer. But he did like to cook for us, which was a greater kindness than
any of her other boyfriends ever paid her. "Why did you and Tony break up
again?"
"He went back to his ex-wife.
I just came home one day and he'd left me a
example—that was all I could have.
I was antsy for the rest of the
night, waiting for my mother to take her Ambien. I didn't want to risk going
into Jon's e-mail while she was awake. That's because you shouldn't be going
into it at all, I scolded myself. It was supposed to be a onetime thing.
The baby was moving again. She'd
been moving almost constantly—I remembered that from late in my pregnancy with
Jacob—but it was so frenetic right then that I wondered if it was in support or
reproach.
Finally, after an episode of Law
& Order that seemed as long as Gone with the Wind, my mother
gave me a hug and said she was going to bed. I followed her down the hall and
went into my bedroom. From there, I could hear her nightly bathroom ritual. Why
did she have to be such a dedicated flosser ? It was
cruel, what she was doing to me.
Ten minutes later, she was out of
the bathroom and settled on the futon. I waited five minutes, then tiptoed to
her doorway. When her breathing became even and regular, I pounced on the
computer.
Remember, just the Sent folder. That's
all you get.
But I wasn't prepared for what I
found. Which was nothing. It appeared he hadn't responded at all to her
Thanksgiving e-mail. Did that mean he'd called her instead? Or was it possible
that he realized what I was doing and wasn't using this account anymore? Had I
driven him underground? Or had he decided to have absolutely no communication
with her, not even to tell her it was over?
Of all the possibilities, the last
one (my favorite) seemed the least likely. It was just too mean. Not Jon's
style. Besides, if he had done that, there probably would have been e-mails
from Laney asking what had happened to him.
That meant he'd called her, which
was just plain out of my jurisdiction. I couldn't know if he'd told her they
were through, or to lay low for a while, or that they'd have to keep it to the
phone from now on. Well, I couldn't know that night. If I kept checking the
e-mail, I might find out something in a few days or a week. He might write an e-mail
to someone else saying what had happened, for example.
Unless he suspected me.
No, he wouldn't suspect me. I
wouldn't do anything like this.
I wasn't this kind of person. Jon knew that.
I hurriedly shut off the computer.
I'd done all I was permitted to do that night. There was no sense sitting there
and inviting more temptation. Anything else would have to wait for another day.
My mother was leaving tomorrow, and I'd have the room all to myself.
There was a red terror alert at the
airport, which meant We'd slowed to an absolute crawl. My mother was departing
from the farthest terminal.
"I can just get out and
walk," she offered, reading the tension in my face.
"No, don't do that," I
said. "I'm. sure it'll clear up soon." I was not at all sure of that,
but Jacob was with Jon for the day, so I had nowhere to be. "Is Charlie
picking you up at the airport?"
"He's supposed to. But you
know Charlie."
"I know Charlie."
"Are you working
tomorrow?" she asked. She was digging in her purse, finally producing a
pack of Juicy Fruit. She thrust it toward me; I shook my head no.
"I work every weekday. I just
work shorter hours. You know, Jacob's school hours." I'd worked the same
job with the same hours for two years now. She'd always been bad with details.
"That's nice."
We had actually stopped moving
completely. I put the car into park.
"My casserole didn't come out
right this year," my mother said. "People left a lot on their
plates."
"It tasted fine to me."
"If I come up next year, maybe
I should make something else. But that casserole used to be your favorite thing
when you were little. I think Tony was the first one to make it for us."
Ah, yes. Tony, the drunken
philanderer. But he did like to cook for us, which was a greater kindness than
any of her other boyfriends ever paid her. "Why did you and Tony break up
again?"
"He went back to his ex-wife.
I just came home one day and he'd left me a
Similar Books
