Foul Shots Part II

It is too sunny in Aunt Ally’s house where she lives with my six-year old cousin Thom and her boyfriend, Don.  I remember what Grizzly said on the drive down about Don that he wasn’t a talker on the phone but what he did say made her want to see if he looked as smooth as he sounded, like a cool blond she wanted to ask out for a beer.

When Ally walks back downstairs with Grizzly, I repeat, “Uh-huh,” over and over in response to their chatter not hearing much.  All the prettiness around me makes me twitch in places I have never twitched before.  Even the muscles in my face above my eyebrows feel restless.  I wonder if Ally has anything to drink besides soda.

“I’m going to check out the block,” I say.

My aunt and Grizzly are so busy talking and not talking that the only indication either of them gives of hearing me is a look on Grizzly’s face, a look that says, “Take me with you.”

The crystal seems to be coming at me from every corner, from the curios, the China cabinet, even the water glass in Ally’s outstretched hand.  They are all opportunities for me to slip up.  I take my two clumsy feet and head out of there. 

Outside isn’t much easier.  I look down at the sidewalk to avoid the blaze from the sky.  The radiance follows and ricochets off other things, the sparkling pools in the distance and the glaringly white stucco homes.  I dream of the light like I remember in California, the periwinkle blue, the comfortable cloudless skies, where I imagine Peter Pan and the lost boys still sail their ships into the sunsets.  And I pretend that sky I know is just around the corner and I can slide into it again.