Wish by Joseph Monninger Page A

early morning. Tommy lay in bed, the remote in his hand. A single stream of weak light pushed through the crack in the curtains. I didn’t say anything. Instead I rolled over and pretended to sleep. I listened to him flicking around the TV stations. He wasn’t allowed to watch so much television at home and we didn’t have cable anyway. He was being a little TV piglet.
    He went to the cartoon station and stayed there awhile. The next time I looked up he had found some ridiculousshow about guys going out in boats to catch Alaskan king crabs. The show consisted of big waves crashing over a small boat and the guys yelling back and forth to see if they were okay. Then Tommy went back to the cartoons.
    “Why does she do that, Bee?” Tommy asked a little later.
    “Ask her,” I said, my face turned down into the pillow. “That’s her stuff.”
    “Is she a sex fiend?” he asked.
    I had to laugh.
    “No, you little twerp,” I said, lifting my head from the pillow, “your mother is not a sex fiend.”
    “Then why would she stay over there?” he asked, his eyes on the television. “She usually comes home no matter what.”
    “Not always.” I sighed. “You should ask her.”
    “I’m asking you, Bee.”
    I sat up and pushed the hair off my face. My mouth tasted gross from the french fries. My lips still had salt on them.
    “I think she’s afraid of getting old,” I said. “Afraid of ending up alone. It’s complicated.”
    “But we’re here,” he said. “We’re her family.”
    I nodded. I saw myself in the mirror behind the television and pushed my hair off my face more.
    “She doesn’t do it to be mean to us,” I said. “She does it to make herself feel better. It’s weird, I know. When she has a guy tell her she’s cool and sexy and all that, then she feels better about herself. She isn’t really thinking, she reacts to the moment.”
    “It’s bogus,” he said. “Really bogus.”
    “I agree.”
    “Is it a girl thing?”
    “A little bit. But boys do it, too. Some boys go from woman to woman thinking anything that goes wrong is the woman’s fault. They keep picking up the same rock and getting mad at it when it isn’t gold.”
    “Did you just make that up?”
    “Which part?”
    “The gold thing. That’s ridiculous.”
    “Is that so?” I said, then chucked my pillow at him. “Well, maybe it is.”
    I went into the bathroom and washed my face and brushed my teeth. When I returned, Tommy had the paper cup of soda on his belly from the night before. His straw poked around in the melted ice. He made a long sucking sound. I passed by his bed and looked out the window. Another good day weatherwise.
    “Let’s go get breakfast,” I said. “Let’s get out of this room. It’s too nice out to stay cooped up.”
    “Let’s go see Ty Barry,” Tommy said, the straw making a little trombone sound on the plastic lid cover. “He doesn’t live far from here.”
    “You can’t just barge in on him.”
    “He knows we’re around. He told me to call back today and let him know what our plans are. Not everyone is as uptight as you, Bee’s Knees.”
    “You little punk,” I said. “I should rough you up.”
    Another kid would have jumped to his feet and wanted to rumble, but it took Tommy three separate movements. Cup down. Slowly climb onto the bed. Assume a karate position.
    “I could crush you,” I said, taking a karate stance back at him.
    “Hands of death,” he said, waving his hands around.
    “Beware the great white shark,” I said, snapping my teeth and moving my hands to my forehead to form a fin. Then I moved slowly toward him like a shark cleaving water.
    “Some puny shark, Bee’s Knees,” Tommy said, slapping my fin.
    “You’re too bony to eat, little boy. I want a big fat seal.”
    “Then you have to eat yourself, because you’re the biggest, fattest seal around.”
    I pretended to bite his leg. He jumped from his bed to theother bed and almost fell. When he regained his