'Adios, bullshit.' Hand me that clock radio, will you Chug? Your sister is fucking out of here.'
It turned out that Vicki did not leave for Reno or California but, instead, for Ginger Treadwell's. Ginger was the boyfriend who had set the sofa on fire, an older redheaded guy who lived three blocks away in a basement apartment he rented from his mother. Every now and then I would go by to visit her but she never came over to the house or phoned as she didn't want to see our father. 'Tell him I'm a model and a stewardess and never know where I'll be from one day to the next. And tell him they're making a movie of my life story and they want Boris Fucking Karloff to play his part.'
When she broke up with Ginger she moved in with Shane Lambson and then with Drew Hodges, who had a job driving a special bus for crippled people in a hurry. She was living with Drew when she met and fell in love with Marty Manning, a mechanic for the special buses. They dated in secret until she discovered she was pregnant. When he heard the news, Marty lifted his tool box over his head, threw it across the room, and asked for my sister's hand in marriage. Vicki accepted. She said that, with Marty, she felt as though she had woken from a long coma of waste and unhappiness. She wrote a song about it and delivered it at the wedding while Marty accompanied her on drums. He wore a brown tuxedo at the ceremony but removed his jacket for the demanding solo. I couldn't hear a word of Vicki's song. Later on, at the reception, Marty made a speech, telling everyone just how much this new baby meant to him. He knelt down and toasted my sister's stomach, saying, 'This lady has given me the greatest gift a man could ever want a new beginning.' He choked up for a moment and then tapped his glass against Vicki's stomach, sloshing punch on her corduroy wedding dress.
It was puzzling that Marty Manning would make such a big production out of this when he already had one New Beginning in his past, a five-year-old daughter he never saw or spoke to. He claims he would love to spend time with Amber but can't because the child's mother is a manipulating ball-buster and a four-star bitch. He said he wanted this baby to be the real thing so he set to work, getting everything ready. He put a bigger sink in the kitchen and made a carseat by sawing the legs off a padded chair. He put locks on a few of the cabinet doors and had Vicki's cat put to sleep. His mother had told him that a cat's instinct is to sneak into the crib and suck the breath out of a newborn baby. It broke my sister's heart but she went along with it. 'I have to look toward the future,' she said, emptying the litter box for the final time.
I told her she was crazy to let him put her cat to sleep. I said, 'Marty sucks, not Sabbath.'
Marty was sucking the brains right out of my sister's head. He had her turn the dining room into a nursery. There is a decent-sized spare room down the hall but that is where Marty keeps his drum set and his weights, and he says it is off-limits because it is his domain. He was really banking on a boy but told Vicki to paint the dining room orange just in case. I visited her on that day and wound up painting the room myself while she drank three cans of Tab and asked me questions about Dad, what he was up to with his new girlfriend and how he can stand such a ball-busting four-star bitch. I had just stopped by, curious to see her. I didn't know beforehand that I would be working and I wound up getting a lot of orange paint on my good shoes. Now they are no longer my good shoes, and every time I lace them up I think back on that day when we didn't know anything about the baby waiting to be born. I imagined myself in the future, telling the grown child that I once painted the nursery orange but that it wasn't my idea. I didn't know if the child would be a boy or a girl. Maybe it would like me or maybe not. Maybe I would have gray hair or perhaps I would be bald on top like my father. Who can say what the future holds?
When she was eight months pregnant Vicki lost her job dispatching buses for crippled people because she had to sleep a lot and couldn't make it to work on time. She had someone else punch in for her but they caught on when the buses didn't show up and paralyzed people had to wait in the snow for hours on end. Marty told her not to look for another job until the baby enrolled in the first grade. He had spoken to his mother and said he didn't want anything like those latchkey children. To hear him tell it the Latchkeys were a tough family who lived in his mother's neighborhood and threw rocks at passing cars just for fun. Marty thought he had everything under control.
The baby, a boy named Marty Jr., was born on Thanksgiving Day. Vicki said it was symbolic because Marty Jr., like a pilgrim, was a newcomer to this strange and wonderful country. Also, being a Sagittarian, he would be quick with numbers and get along well with just about everyone but Capricorns, Leos, and Geminis. She tried her best to look on the bright side but still she turned away every time the nurse tried presenting her with the baby, fidgeting in its blanket.
Certain small, ugly creatures are considered adorable and cute. Take, for example, the baby orangutan pictured on the poster that decorates the garage wall. Nothing about this animal is pretty to look at but he doesn't seem to care one way or the other. When an orangutan catches his reflection in a pool of crystal-clear water he doesn't take the time to get depressed about his looks. Instead he just goes about his business, eating leaves and examining the heads of his friends and family, search-ing for mouthwatering fleas. A creature is cute as long as it has mournful eyes and lives in the woods. An ugly person can't be carefree like the animals. From what I've seen on television, animals will mate without regard to who has a glossier coat or the longest whiskers. I don't get the idea that apes turn down dates. They might talk but I doubt anyone's feelings get hurt in the process. I could be wrong because I am not a scientist. I suppose that some ugly babies can grow up to be OK-looking but I doubt this will be the case with young Marty Jr.
When he was first born my nephew looked like a doll. A doll made of raw hamburger meat. Most babies come that way but it was a lot worse with Marty Jr., who remained raw and blistered after repeated washings. His features continue to look handmade and richly textured. Vicki tried convincing Marty that babies age and grow into their faces. She said his ruddy color meant that he would tan easily later in life.
'He'll be a lady-killer,' she said to Marty. 'Just like his old man, a four-star lady-killer.'
Marty wasn't buying any of it. This child was clearly not what he had in mind and he regarded it as if it were an oversized turd. His mild curiosity was replaced by disgust and, finally, anger.
'I can tell you're the daddy because he's got your eyes!' a nurse made the mistake of saying to him.
Marty waited until she had taken the baby away before calling the nurse a bitch and repeating 'NoI've got my eyes.Me I have the both of them.' He pointed to his face and accidentally stuck his finger into his left eye. When Vicki offered him a Kleenex he brushed her hand away, knocking her water glass to the floor.
'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.' Vicki repeated these words until it was just a noise. Marty turned his back to her until an-other nurse arrived with her dinner tray. Marty ate everything but the pudding.
When I first laid eyes on Marty Jr. I understood that he would need to develop a winning personality ASAP so, after he was re-leased from the hospital, I quit school in order to help Vicki take care of him. To be honest I probably would have quit anyway so, when Vicki suggested it, I was grateful to have such a formal-sounding excuse. The only person I miss is my English teacher, Mrs. Colgate. She told me to keep in touch and to 'read, read, read.' I called her once but hung up when she answered the phone crying, 'Curtis, listen. For the love of God, Curtis, I can explain everything.'
Carrying a baby had worn my sister out. After her week in the hospital she decided that now was the time for Vicki to start thinking about Vicki. This was the time for her to reevaluate and work off the weight she had gained while eating for two. How she worked it off while watching fourteen hours of television a day is anyone's guess but it worked! I would arrive in the morning and spend my day taking care of the baby: changing and feeding, putting him down for naps, giving him a bath, laundry I did it all.
'Teach him to cry only during the commercials,' Vicki would shout from the living room whenever he began to fuss. 'He needs to spend more time outdoors, that's his problem. Take him to the grocery store and let him look at the meat.'
I stayed at the house until the baby was put to bed for the night and then I returned home to my father's place at around nine-thirty in the evening. By this time he understood that Vicki was neither a model nor a stewardess. He wasn't invited to the wedding but didn't seem to mind, saying, 'She'll invite me to the next one.' He expressed no interest in Marty Jr. 'I'm too young to be a grandfather,' he said, brushing the sides of his head, the top bald and gleaming.
During Marty Jr.'s nap time I straightened up the house and made a list of the things we needed: clothing, formula, diapers, shampoo baby things. I carried the list to Vicki, who would keep her eyes fixed on the television and say, every time, 'Bring it up with the Bank of America,' which meant Marty. And I hated asking him because he always treated it like a loan, implying that I still hadn't paid him back the twenty dollars I hit him up for last week.
This was around the time my father's girlfriend, Rochelle, moved in. Rochelle works as an old waitress and always has money in her purse, a roll of bills the size of a hair curler. When she returns home from work she acts as though she has just walked across the burning desert in her bare feet and has cactus thorns dug deep into her
