Read Online The Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Robin Palmer - Free Book Online
Authors: Robin Palmer
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you still up for Arcade Fire next weekend?” Olivia asked. Because her father was the head of the television department at one of the big talent agencies, he was always able to get us tickets to concerts. Or, rather, his assistant did.
“It’s, uh, Family Weekend at the . . . thing,” I replied. I still couldn’t bring myself to say rehab . In fact, the night before, as I lay in bed unable to sleep, I had made a list of synonyms for it—such as wellness center, health spa, place people go after they fuck up royally .
“Can Jade have her ticket then?” Maya asked. “She loves them.”
Olivia and Sarah exchanged a quick look. Jade was Maya’s new girlfriend. With their matching black bobs, they sometimes looked like twins, which was a little weird.
“Actually,” Olivia said, “so does Parker. I think we should ask her.” Parker was Parker Wren, sister of an actress who, in addition to supposedly going out with Ryan Gosling a few times, had just snagged a role in Wes Anderson’s new film, a combination that gave Parker official Sister Of status. Olivia put her hand on my arm again. “We’ll miss you.”
“Yeah. Totally,” Sarah agreed. “Some other time.”
“Yeah. Of course. Another time,” I said. Although it made me feel like the world’s worst daughter, I hated my mother at that moment.
The only place where my mother had good timing was in front of the camera. Other than that, it sucked (see: getting knocked up by almost total stranger), so it made sense that the two weeks following her arrest were super-slow on the gossip front. Not one celebrity (a) announced he or she was gay; (b) got caught cheating via cellphone pictures; or (c) got into a public brawl with the ex of a current boyfriend or girlfriend. Which meant that for the first time since she announced she was leaving Plus Zero , Mom—and, by default, I—were in the news again.
There were pictures of me on the blogs walking into school with captions like “Devastated by Her Mother’s Breakdown, a Distraught Annabelle Jackson Attempts to Trudge Through the Day!!!” (Actually, on that particular day, I was not distraught. I was exhausted because I had stayed up until two o’clock in the morning watching The Way We Were and crying, not just because it always made me cry but because it was Mom’s and my favorite movie to watch together.) And me outside Whole Foods chugging down a smoothie with the caption “It May Look Healthy, But What’s Really in That Smoothie? Is Annabelle Jackson Going Down the Same Road of Destruction as Her Mother???”
That one bugged me, mostly because it was never going to happen. Maybe it was because Mom was a poster child for how annoying drunk people could be, or because vomiting wasn’t on my list of fun ways to spend my time, but the one and only time I had gotten wasted had been enough for me. Every time I came close to throwing up, I found myself overcome with the fear that I wouldn’t be able to get to the toilet in time, which would then render me immobile, and so I ended up hurling wherever I happened to be. Which, in that case, happened to be on a very expensive sofa at this girl Sparrow’s house. I already felt out of control enough. I didn’t need alcohol to feel even more out of control and then have a headache to boot.
Although as I pulled into my driveway on my bike post–Whole Foods smoothie pap attack, I kind of wished I could just walk into the house and pull out the bottle of whiskey I knew was stashed in the head of the giant Ganesha statue on the patio and drink until I passed out. (Although Ganesha was the Indian god who was the remover of obstacles, obviously, he—like the fountain—wasn’t operating on all cylinders.) To be able to shut off my head for a few hours. Or at least turn the volume down on the running commentary about how Mom’s arrest was just the beginning, things were going to get worse, and somehow (even though I wasn’t quite sure how) this was all
“It’s, uh, Family Weekend at the . . . thing,” I replied. I still couldn’t bring myself to say rehab . In fact, the night before, as I lay in bed unable to sleep, I had made a list of synonyms for it—such as wellness center, health spa, place people go after they fuck up royally .
“Can Jade have her ticket then?” Maya asked. “She loves them.”
Olivia and Sarah exchanged a quick look. Jade was Maya’s new girlfriend. With their matching black bobs, they sometimes looked like twins, which was a little weird.
“Actually,” Olivia said, “so does Parker. I think we should ask her.” Parker was Parker Wren, sister of an actress who, in addition to supposedly going out with Ryan Gosling a few times, had just snagged a role in Wes Anderson’s new film, a combination that gave Parker official Sister Of status. Olivia put her hand on my arm again. “We’ll miss you.”
“Yeah. Totally,” Sarah agreed. “Some other time.”
“Yeah. Of course. Another time,” I said. Although it made me feel like the world’s worst daughter, I hated my mother at that moment.
The only place where my mother had good timing was in front of the camera. Other than that, it sucked (see: getting knocked up by almost total stranger), so it made sense that the two weeks following her arrest were super-slow on the gossip front. Not one celebrity (a) announced he or she was gay; (b) got caught cheating via cellphone pictures; or (c) got into a public brawl with the ex of a current boyfriend or girlfriend. Which meant that for the first time since she announced she was leaving Plus Zero , Mom—and, by default, I—were in the news again.
There were pictures of me on the blogs walking into school with captions like “Devastated by Her Mother’s Breakdown, a Distraught Annabelle Jackson Attempts to Trudge Through the Day!!!” (Actually, on that particular day, I was not distraught. I was exhausted because I had stayed up until two o’clock in the morning watching The Way We Were and crying, not just because it always made me cry but because it was Mom’s and my favorite movie to watch together.) And me outside Whole Foods chugging down a smoothie with the caption “It May Look Healthy, But What’s Really in That Smoothie? Is Annabelle Jackson Going Down the Same Road of Destruction as Her Mother???”
That one bugged me, mostly because it was never going to happen. Maybe it was because Mom was a poster child for how annoying drunk people could be, or because vomiting wasn’t on my list of fun ways to spend my time, but the one and only time I had gotten wasted had been enough for me. Every time I came close to throwing up, I found myself overcome with the fear that I wouldn’t be able to get to the toilet in time, which would then render me immobile, and so I ended up hurling wherever I happened to be. Which, in that case, happened to be on a very expensive sofa at this girl Sparrow’s house. I already felt out of control enough. I didn’t need alcohol to feel even more out of control and then have a headache to boot.
Although as I pulled into my driveway on my bike post–Whole Foods smoothie pap attack, I kind of wished I could just walk into the house and pull out the bottle of whiskey I knew was stashed in the head of the giant Ganesha statue on the patio and drink until I passed out. (Although Ganesha was the Indian god who was the remover of obstacles, obviously, he—like the fountain—wasn’t operating on all cylinders.) To be able to shut off my head for a few hours. Or at least turn the volume down on the running commentary about how Mom’s arrest was just the beginning, things were going to get worse, and somehow (even though I wasn’t quite sure how) this was all
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