Thousands of glistening Mom fragments coat the air, pieces of skin and bone and teeth, mashed to a pulp and thrown by a toddler at a ceiling fan, it seems. Her clothes mixing with the stew, scraps of L.L. Bean khakis and slim cable-knit sweater making the mixture appear fibrous, like a spider web made of meat. I recognize a clump of hair as the one she always complained about not sitting on her head properly, and I stick it in my pocket to remember her by, though I imagine I�ll have to find something else, something less organic, before more than a week passes. She will start to smell soon.
I�ve just wiped off the last gleaming piece of Mom from the shining sink when the bus driver is screaming in my ear. It�s unusual to see such a frail-looking man get up from his post, but it�s more jarring to hear the tone of his voice. It sounds like the worst things about fall�like those marble-eyes crows that like mausoleums and rattling leaves, and that strange hissing noise laundry steam makes when it escapes hatches in the house to the outside. His voice is even worse when I realize what just happened did so only in a dream. I fell asleep�it�s just that simple. And now, I seem to have missed my stop, and he is angry because he has to turn around. There are two other girls on the bus, sophomores I think, and they give me sympathetic. One of them, small and with slightly rabbitty teeth, asks if I�m in a lot of AP classes. I tell her yes, lots of them, and her pretty eyes widen and wander. She asks, a bit later, if I feel bad about missing my stop. She means, she hasn�t done it since, like, the first grade, not that she thinks I�m like a first grader, she means I must be really overworked, so I smile and tell her that yes, I am tired. And now I have to go, and it�s all worked out very nicely, considering. I exact my revenge by telling the bus driver that his loafers are dirty, but he gives me a weird look and closes the door too quickly.
I walk in the house and give my mom a hug. I tell her I�m glad to be home, and that yes, my day was fine, and that sure, I�ll go get her some groceries on my way to Allison�s. It�s all typical guilty-teen behavior, but this time I didn�t do anything. I just dreamed her dead.
I call Allison, and I know before she picks up that she will want me to come over right away, just as surely as I know that I�ll refuse and say that I have a lot of homework.
Well, at least I have a lot of bullshit. I need to sort out how I feel about Allison and this whole crazy mess, and she seems relieved anyway. Probably just going to hang out with some other people, anyway.
I tell my mom that Allison actually has a lot of homework, and I watch some dorky movie on ABC. It�s after Halloween, so they�ve returned to the traditionally dorky high school drama. This time, there are these nasty bad things called drugs, and they�re making lots of the students feel bad�and then their parents feel bad too!
It�s a great movie. I eat half a bowl of popcorn and give the other to the dog. I wonder, briefly, if popcorn is poisonous to dogs, like chocolate is. But my dog has a stomach of steel�I�m not particularly worried.
My dad wanders in about seven, and announces his presence, demanding love. I give him a drowsy wave and a �hello�, which seems to satisfy.
After another hour or so of drab TV, I whoosh into the kitchen and microwave some Thai food. It�s not too terrible, and my mother joins me after a little while. I think she thinks I�m mad at her, though the silence in which we eat feels comfortable to me. So she breaks the ice and asks how the Halloween party was.
�It was great,� I say. My voice sounds fake to me. �There were twelve maids, six Playmates, and two airline attendants.�
She laughs, and asks what I went as again.
�Wow, Mom,� I reprimand. �Can�t even remember your only daughter�s Halloween costume, huh? Nice.�
She laughs again, and I remind her that I was Zombie Marilyn Monroe. I got the idea from Fight Club�that joke in it. I thought that was great.
Allison helped me pick out my outfit�we got this great white halter dress and we curled my hair is big, big curls. The lipstick was a little off, but I caked myself with flour and I looked perfect.
Allison was going as Vanna White in rehab. I don�t know where she gets these ideas�it was really her who convinced me to do the whole zombie Marilyn thing. I mean, it turned out well, didn�t it?
(No, it didn�t.)
Xerxes thought we were hilarious, but put enough beer in Xerxes and he�ll say that the linoleum is hilarious. Xerxes was going as a Parisian hobo, but he didn�t think that anyone would get it. He basically just let his stubble grow in interesting patterns and said �Oui, oui� a lot. I was supposed to teach him some French, but I got out of it, and he forgot. So it doesn�t really matter.
The party was at Dan�s house, and he was Zombie Jesus. I thought it was a little sacrilegious, but kind of funny, too. My mom calls us lapsed Catholics, and I guess that�s accurate. We dress up on Easter and don�t eat much. My dad doesn�t even bother.