I’m staying up there with him.”
“Jenna will be crushed.”
“She’ll get over it. Besides, we’re taping. We’ll have more than a few family laughs over it.”
He heard the laughter and the girls screaming in delight to the pounding music from downstairs, all in a tubular sort of a haunt, all hollow, the way his father heard life nowadays in its order and fanfare, marching away from him over the horizon. Jenna had understood, or maybe she did, it was hard to tell. She was ultimately distracted with Brittany getting to go to cheerleading camp this summer, and Colleen’s current fascination with Christian rock, and Vicky’s younger brothers who were totally rude, and mostly with borrowing Ann Marie’s lady paint and hairspray and rubber bands and clips to make herself look like the bride of Frankenstein.
Dad was all tied up with a roll of aluminum foil Jordan had offered him, pressing square pieces to his face, making masks. He’d constructed twenty of them and arranged them all around him in a rough circle on the guest bed he slept in. Jordan read a few Sports Illustrated magazines he saved for emergencies, and then moved on to a Sal Palentonio book he’d never finished. Ann Marie stopped up once to check on him, and toward the end of the evening Jenna popped in her head to say she should have won, but Brittany cheated. It was all good, all so normal, especially since Dad had fallen asleep more than an hour ago.
When Ann Marie came up the second time to let Jordan know the coast was clear, he convinced her that it was OK to clean up in the morning. She gave a half-hearted plea that she’d just gotten everything professionally scoured, and he insisted that a few popcorn bowls and soda glasses wouldn’t hurt anyone. He stood up and stretched. He had polished off a six of Coors Lite himself and he was in no mood for playing housemaid.
In the bedroom, Ann Marie rubbed her foot on his leg indicating that she wanted it, and he mumbled back that the morning was better. She didn’t press. They fell asleep spooned, and Jordan came awake with a jolt a few hours later.
The air conditioner was on hum mode, and he thought he’d heard something, maybe in a dream or something. It sounded, or rather it felt like it might have come from Jenna’s room, and it was doubtful he could have actually heard anything over this piece-of-crap air conditioner, but it was best to be sure. He threw off the covers and looked around the floor for his shorts. Ann Marie said something unintelligible in her sleep, and he made sure to close the door behind him once he was dressed.
Jenna was moaning; he could hear her from all the way down the hall. Her door was open, and there was someone standing over her, a shadow, a hulking figure.
Jordan limped into a run, passed through the archway, and flipped on the overhead.
It was Aldo, standing over Jenna, watching her with wide rolling eyes, rocking back and forth, drool coming off his bottom lip in a spindler. And he was a nightmare of makeup, lipstick drawn severe and clown-like over his lips, hot pink and purple blush smeared on his cheeks. There was eye shadow in blue sparkle, and deep lavender and rust painted up over the eyebrows. There were Scrunchies and hair clips hanging off the hair at the edge of his crown.
“Pop, what the fuck are you doing?” Jordan said, a bit too loud, but he was a bit freaked to say the least. Aldo looked at his own son with wide, unseeing eyes and stammered,
“Ape . . . ape . . . ape!”
Jordan reached out and grabbed his father by the shirt. He shook him, shouted in his face,
“What the fuck are you doing in my daughter’s room?” He shook him harder, the clownish face bobbing on its neck like some lunatic ballpark figurine, and suddenly arms were around him gently pulling him off, and it was Ann Marie, and she was tight-lipped and wide-eyed with concern, but now that it was out in the open, she was on auto-pilot, and Jenna was up rubbing her
“Jenna will be crushed.”
“She’ll get over it. Besides, we’re taping. We’ll have more than a few family laughs over it.”
He heard the laughter and the girls screaming in delight to the pounding music from downstairs, all in a tubular sort of a haunt, all hollow, the way his father heard life nowadays in its order and fanfare, marching away from him over the horizon. Jenna had understood, or maybe she did, it was hard to tell. She was ultimately distracted with Brittany getting to go to cheerleading camp this summer, and Colleen’s current fascination with Christian rock, and Vicky’s younger brothers who were totally rude, and mostly with borrowing Ann Marie’s lady paint and hairspray and rubber bands and clips to make herself look like the bride of Frankenstein.
Dad was all tied up with a roll of aluminum foil Jordan had offered him, pressing square pieces to his face, making masks. He’d constructed twenty of them and arranged them all around him in a rough circle on the guest bed he slept in. Jordan read a few Sports Illustrated magazines he saved for emergencies, and then moved on to a Sal Palentonio book he’d never finished. Ann Marie stopped up once to check on him, and toward the end of the evening Jenna popped in her head to say she should have won, but Brittany cheated. It was all good, all so normal, especially since Dad had fallen asleep more than an hour ago.
When Ann Marie came up the second time to let Jordan know the coast was clear, he convinced her that it was OK to clean up in the morning. She gave a half-hearted plea that she’d just gotten everything professionally scoured, and he insisted that a few popcorn bowls and soda glasses wouldn’t hurt anyone. He stood up and stretched. He had polished off a six of Coors Lite himself and he was in no mood for playing housemaid.
In the bedroom, Ann Marie rubbed her foot on his leg indicating that she wanted it, and he mumbled back that the morning was better. She didn’t press. They fell asleep spooned, and Jordan came awake with a jolt a few hours later.
The air conditioner was on hum mode, and he thought he’d heard something, maybe in a dream or something. It sounded, or rather it felt like it might have come from Jenna’s room, and it was doubtful he could have actually heard anything over this piece-of-crap air conditioner, but it was best to be sure. He threw off the covers and looked around the floor for his shorts. Ann Marie said something unintelligible in her sleep, and he made sure to close the door behind him once he was dressed.
Jenna was moaning; he could hear her from all the way down the hall. Her door was open, and there was someone standing over her, a shadow, a hulking figure.
Jordan limped into a run, passed through the archway, and flipped on the overhead.
It was Aldo, standing over Jenna, watching her with wide rolling eyes, rocking back and forth, drool coming off his bottom lip in a spindler. And he was a nightmare of makeup, lipstick drawn severe and clown-like over his lips, hot pink and purple blush smeared on his cheeks. There was eye shadow in blue sparkle, and deep lavender and rust painted up over the eyebrows. There were Scrunchies and hair clips hanging off the hair at the edge of his crown.
“Pop, what the fuck are you doing?” Jordan said, a bit too loud, but he was a bit freaked to say the least. Aldo looked at his own son with wide, unseeing eyes and stammered,
“Ape . . . ape . . . ape!”
Jordan reached out and grabbed his father by the shirt. He shook him, shouted in his face,
“What the fuck are you doing in my daughter’s room?” He shook him harder, the clownish face bobbing on its neck like some lunatic ballpark figurine, and suddenly arms were around him gently pulling him off, and it was Ann Marie, and she was tight-lipped and wide-eyed with concern, but now that it was out in the open, she was on auto-pilot, and Jenna was up rubbing her
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