Glass - 02 Read Free

long time.
    I have to say, that isn’t a bad
    place to be, where you don’t
    have to lie. Everything is just
    so much easier when you don’t
    have to remember what you
    told who, and when, and why.
    What is simply is. But not
    anymore, I guess. Now I have
    to not only come up with a reason
    to go, but also to remember exactly
    what it was, no matter how tweaked
    I might be when I get home.
    Tweaked! It takes a modicum
    of thinking, but within an hour or so,
    I invent a great (I think) excuse.

I t’s a Doozer
    “Mom, is there any
    way I could borrow
    your car? There’s a
    college fair I want to
    check out tomorrow,
    over in Sacramento.
    It starts around four
    and should go until
    eight” (1 think
    that will give me
    plenty of time to
    hook up with Robyn—
    even if she isn’t
    exactly on time—
    score, toot a little,
    and start back.)
    “I’d ask you to come along, but I
    need you to watch Hunter. I can’t
    really take him with me. If it makes
    you feel better, I’ll invite Trent to
    ride along. He can visit his sister.”
    College
    fair?
    Don’t        you want me
    to go        along with
    you?        You’ve
    never       driven
    that         far by your
                   It’s aself.
            three -
            hour trip, you
            know, not easy.

I Will Invite Him Too
    Of course, I know he
    has to work until five thirty.
    But at least if it comes up
    in conversation, I can
    tell Mom I asked,
    but he had other plans.
    I call about eight.
    “Hey, Trent. It’s Kristina.
    Long time, no talk.
    “I heard you’re working
    for a lawyer. Hope
    he’s really cute!”
    Trent hesitates, not
    at all sure why I’m striking
    up a conversation.
    He’s not bad, actually.
    But that can’t be why
    you called. What’s up?
    To the point, and why
    not? We haven’t spoken
    since before I had Hunter.
    “Actually, I’m driving over
    to Stockton tomorrow
    afternoon and wondered
    if you’d like to ride along.
    I thought you might like
    to drop in on Robyn.”
    Thanks for thinking
    of me, Kristina. But
    I have to work and
    even if I didn’t, I
    wouldn’t go. Robyn
    is on a fast track to death.
    “What do you mean?”
    Like I don’t know
    exactly what he means.
    If you don’t know, you
    haven’t seen her lately.
    And if you haven’t
    seen her lately, I suggest
    you steer clear. She’ll
    take you down with her.
    Kristina, we haven’t
    hung out together
    for a while, but you’ve
    always been a good friend
    to me. Let me offer you
    a good friend’s advice.
    Stay away from Robyn.
    And if you see her coming,
    run the other way.

T onight
    Sleep is impossible,
    anticipation swelling
    and ebbing like some
    sort of crazy tide.
    Strange,
    how when I close my
    eyes, try to concentrate
    on that little door between
    them that opens into
    dreams,
    I fee l high already,
    locked in a battle
    between the need to dive
    into REM slumber and the
    desire
    to start the damn party
    already! I remember
    that awful tug-of-war well.
    So why jump right back in,
    release
    the monster to stalk
    my days, haunt my nights;
    to bite through my skull
    and suck on my brain?
    From
    a purely omniscient
    point of view, it makes
    no sense whatsoever. I
    have freed myself from
    physical
    addiction, no rehab but
    to endure sweating, puking,
    and cardiovascular jumping
    jacks. The mental
    bonds,
    however, seem as strong
    as ever, and the piece
    of me that recognizes
    that knows I might be
    making a very big mistake.

M aybe That’s Why
    When Hunter makes
    his daily plea for
    a three A.M. breast
    milk feast, I call
    to Mom, “I’ll handle it.”
    He’s now four months
    old, and drinking
    formula supplements
    from a bottle—a conscious
    decision on my part.
    I had hoped to have
    him weaned—and my
    breasts completely
    my own again—
    within five months.
    My new game plan
    will expedite that
    schedule, I realize,
    and I have to admit,
    that makes me sad.
    I change his