{"id":8419,"date":"2015-02-09T09:00:09","date_gmt":"2015-02-09T14:00:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.gadflyonline.com\/home\/?p=8419"},"modified":"2015-02-16T09:53:53","modified_gmt":"2015-02-16T14:53:53","slug":"modern-modernity-pt-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/modern-modernity-pt-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Modern Modernity Pt. 2"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"modern2\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Suzanne carried Ariel in one arm, the baby resting on her hip. Her eyes were bright and her mouth puckered like she\u2019d just sucked a lemon slice. \u201cIt\u2019s been a goddamn hour and a half, Jill,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Since kissing Grover goodbye and watching his tan Escort rumble down the highway, I\u2019d fought like hell to squelch the sadness surging inside me. I didn\u2019t have the energy to fight with my sister. I simply told the truth: \u201cGrover introduced me to his new boyfriend.\u201d I looked down at my shoes, realized I hadn\u2019t bought new ones in two years.<\/p>\n

\u201cA boyfriend?\u201d she spat, as if were obscene. \u201cGuess he won\u2019t have time for you anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStop it, Suzie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNow you can pick up your damn kid on time.\u201d<\/p>\n

I held out my arms for Suzanne to hand over my daughter. I couldn\u2019t meet her gaze. She shifted Ariel into my arms then stomped toward the kitchen.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe vomited three times last night,\u201d she said, her voice trailing. \u201cGet her to a doctor, pronto.\u201d<\/p>\n

I inspected my daughter. A brief, hacking cough erupted but her smile returned immediately after. I didn\u2019t look forward to hours in the emergency room, waiting for some asshole doctor to shove antibiotics down Ariel\u2019s throat then send us away with the rest of the trash. I\u2019d have to make it through the next day on maybe five hours\u2019 sleep. Ariel just needed a long nap, that\u2019s all.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, Suzie,\u201d I called out. She\u2019d disappeared.<\/p>\n

I waited for her to answer but heard nothing. As I closed the front door and stepped into the blinding autumn sunshine, my cell phone rang. Ariel cooed and clapped her hands. She adored the clickety-click sound of my ring tone. I glanced at the caller ID and smiled with relief.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought you were still drooling over your waiter,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet home and get some sleep,\u201d Grover said. \u201cYou have a dinner date at six.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou and Bart to gossip about me. I\u2019m cooking meatloaf.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t. Suzie\u2019s on the rag. She\u2019d never agree to take Ariel that early.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen bring the kid over here. I haven\u2019t seen her in a while.\u201d<\/p>\n

Grover doted on Ariel, made faces while she lay in her stroller, sprayed a dab of perfume on her jumper as he changed her. He liked to joke that we should claim her as our love child and make everyone at work pass out from shock.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll be very tired and cranky,\u201d I warned him.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what happens when you never have sex.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck you, man-whore.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSwing by and pick up some wine if you can.\u201d<\/p>\n

After saying goodbye, I took a moment to experience the joyous October sunshine, how it basked both my face and Ariel\u2019s. Maybe Bart would be good for Grover, give him things I never could. Determined to stay positive, I loaded Ariel into the car and started home. I hoped she wouldn\u2019t keep me from my precious few hours of sleep.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

When Grover\u2019s last boyfriend left him, Grover kept the apartment. The extra bedroom made a perfect nursery for Ariel. While Grover and Bart fussed over the cooking, pinching one another and giggling, I tucked Ariel into her stroller. She beamed, the very picture of contentment. I kissed her forehead then slipped into the living room. As if on cue, the two men hushed their flirtation and met me with expectant looks.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s going to be fine,\u201d I said, quietly closing the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you need me to wait with you in the ER, just ask,\u201d Grover said.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s no problem,\u201d Bart added.<\/p>\n

These men, the sacrifices they were willing to make for me. A wave of nausea surged through my stomach. The trouble about accepting help is you\u2019re forced to admit you\u2019re helpless. Grover wore a long white apron, its strings tied behind his back. He placed his hand at the small of Bart\u2019s back, guiding him to the meatloaf on the counter.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs it ready to cook?\u201d Bart asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cShould be.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is so exciting,\u201d Bart chirped, flashing me an excited glance. \u201cGrover\u2019s been teaching me to cook all sorts of things.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf he tells you the recipe calls for booze, don\u2019t believe him,\u201d I said then rocked my head back, laughing. Grover made a face then poured another glass of red wine, his fourth since I\u2019d arrived. I figured the drinking had started long before I knocked on the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cThink you can help out?\u201d Grover asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure, whatever you need.\u201d I joined the men at the counter. Bart pried open the oven door and reached for the aluminum pan holding the meatloaf.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll need both hands for that,\u201d Grover said. He slurred his words, the vowel sounds flat and dull.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me handle the rest of this,\u201d Bart countered. \u201cI remember what you told me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHere,\u201d Grover said, ignoring him. \u201cLet me get a hold of that.\u201d The men\u2019s competing grasps caused the pan to tilt dangerously low, some of the sliced vegetables spilling onto the open oven door. Finally, the two men successfully maneuvered the meatloaf into the oven. Bart picked up the spilled vegetables from the open door before shutting it. Grover rocked back against the counter, done with the arduous task. I caught a glimmer of aggravation in Bart\u2019s eyes. The three of us said nothing until we sat down at Grover\u2019s small, uncovered table to eat.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/p>\n

Ariel began hacking not long after we started dessert. Bart looked startled, wondering what to do. I smiled and lifted the fork to my mouth. That\u2019s one thing about babies: panic over every unexpected noise, and you\u2019ll never find a moment\u2019s peace. I had brought the dessert along with the bottle of wine Grover finished an hour ago. He asked if I bought the chocolate cake at Wal-Mart. We all laughed when I said certainly not. Since finishing the wine, Grover had moved on to straight-up scotch.<\/p>\n

Even after we were done, Ariel wouldn\u2019t stop coughing. The eruptions grew more frequent, louder. I\u2019d been looking forward to relaxing on the sofa with Grover and Bart. The waiter from IHOP had proven to be a nice guy: witty, polite, kind. I had no reason to dislike him. My peaceful time with them, however, would have to wait.<\/p>\n

The odor hit me the moment I stepped into the room, a disgusting sourness. Holding my nose, I hurried to Ariel\u2019s carriage and found she had vomited all over herself. Worse yet, the puke had dried on her clothes. She sputtered then spit another mouthful. I threw open the bedroom door and called out to Grover, \u201cCan I use your bathtub?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d Bart asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cAriel got sick all over herself.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with her?\u201d Bart asked, clearing the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t fucking know.\u201d<\/p>\n

Grover took it all in, glass of scotch in his hand. With a swift, deliberate gesture, he set it down and crossed the room. To my shock, he wrapped me in a rough embrace, resting his chin on my shoulder. He whispered, \u201cYou call a doctor, I\u2019ll get Ariel cleaned up.\u201d Booze bloomed on his breath.<\/p>\n

I slid out from his arms, placed my hand on his chest. \u201cNo, sweetie, it\u2019s my kid. I\u2019m responsible for her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou need to call a doctor,\u201d he replied. \u201cI\u2019ll get Ariel ready to leave.\u201d<\/p>\n

I hesitated. All throughout our friendship, Grover prided himself on how well he treated me, his beautiful girl. He wasn\u2019t like a lot of the faggot assholes that ditch their best friends whenever they find a dick to suck. He treated me like I\u2019d always hoped Ariel\u2019s father would, if I ever tracked him down. Sure, I could call the doctor and <\/em>wash my daughter, but why deny my best friend this opportunity to help?<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s a new outfit in the baby bag,\u201d I told him, gesturing toward a canvas sack by the front door.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019ll be fine,\u201d Grover said with authority, his slur less obvious.<\/p>\n

I lifted Ariel from her carriage and gave her to Grover. He carried her into his bedroom. The bathroom led off from there. I heard Grover\u2019s occasional coos and whispers meant to calm my child. I didn\u2019t know if Ariel\u2019s silence was a good or bad sign. Finally, I heard water splash.<\/p>\n

Throughout all this, Bart stood stunned. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Finally, he recovered his voice. \u201cWho can you call?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI saw a billboard once for some dial-a-nurse thing,\u201d I said. \u201cThink it\u2019s in the phone book?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou should try information,\u201d Bart said. \u201cYou know, four-one-one.\u201d<\/p>\n

After a few false starts, the operator connected me with the nurses\u2019 hotline. I spent five minutes on hold while elevator music blared until an elderly-sounding woman came on the line. I described Ariel\u2019s symptoms and listened as she guessed what might be wrong. Ariel hadn\u2019t coughed or cried the whole time I\u2019d been on the phone. That worried me. Tired of the old woman\u2019s bullshit, I flat-out asked if I should take Ariel to the hospital. Never losing her sweet tone, she said it couldn\u2019t hurt. She called me precious<\/em>.<\/p>\n

I called out, \u201cGrover, hurry up and get Ariel dressed. We have to go to the ER.\u201d Only the soft chatter of pouring water came in response. I called out his name again. No answer. Bart shot me a worried glance. I strode across the living room, through Grover\u2019s bedroom and found the bathroom door closed. I knocked, hearing nothing but water. I knocked again. Spooked, I turned the knob and the door swung open.<\/p>\n

Grover lay heaped over the edge of the bathtub. He snored softly. His fingertips grazed the surface of the bathwater. The water poured from the faucet. It had risen almost to the rim. Ariel, my beautiful girl, sat upright in the tub, the water almost to her chin. She gaped about the bathroom, her warm hazel eyes wide and searching. Relieved, I shut off the tap. I crouched upon the tiles, arms wrapped around myself. It was all too much. Grover might have drowned, drunk and passed out over the water. I had to look out for him. I was his beautiful girl and he was the man I loved most.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

Thomas Kearnes holds an MA in Screenwriting from the University of Texas at Austin. His two collections are “Pretend I’m Not Here” (Musa Publishing) and “Promiscuous” (JMS Publishing). His fiction has appeared in Litro, The Adroit Journal, The Ampersand Review, PANK, Word Riot, Eclectica, SmokeLong Quarterly, Johnny America, Five Quarterly, wigleaf, Storyglossia, Sundog Lit, A cappella Zoo, Spork, The Pedestal, Digital Americana Magazine and elsewhere. His work has also appeared in several LGBT venues. He is studying to become a drug dependency counselor. He lives near Houston.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Suzanne carried Ariel in one arm, the baby resting on her hip. Her eyes were bright and her mouth puckered like she\u2019d just sucked a lemon slice. \u201cIt\u2019s been a goddamn hour and a half, Jill,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Since kissing Grover goodbye and watching his tan Escort rumble down the highway, I\u2019d fought like hell to squelch the sadness surging inside me. I didn\u2019t have the energy to fight with my sister. I simply told the truth: \u201cGrover introduced me to his new boyfriend.\u201d I looked down at my shoes, realized I hadn\u2019t bought new ones in two years.<\/p>\n

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