Dipso Facto
John O'Connor
You hear the Montego
jerking and braking
wildly outside, the incessant muttering, the
sound of construction boots up the front
stairs, and the door slamming open,
smashing against the writing desk on which no one ever wrote.
And the screaming. Are you awake? You don’t answer, of course, but that almost never matters. The best you can hope for is that it is someone else’s turn.
Your mother’s, for example. You hoor. You’ve broken my heart for the last time, or your brother’s You fucking punk. I wish you were never born.
But some nights you don’t get so lucky: Brendan, he’ll say in the super-calm voice he uses when he tries to persuade himself he’s not plastered, you know you are the biggest disappointment of my life. I thought you might be able to make something of yourself, but look at you. Listen and nod, your face as blank as a nurse’s uniform; agreeing helps him go to sleep faster. Make him some food or get him another drink. It does no good to argue.
The goal here is silence and a few more hours of sleep. Help him untie the laces on those boots. Try to move things along to the sofa or upstairs. If you can just get him to lie down, he’ll fall asleep faster. Agree with everything. Put on Channel 9. Late night laugh tracks soothe. Mom is curled up on the edge of the bed. Her side. There’s no way she’s sleeping, but let her pretend.
In the morning, it’s all up to you. Mom has gone to work early. Before you get yourself to school you’ve got to get him to work. Speak softly at first and only gradually increase the volume. Start with a cold compress. In the sock drawer, find the smelling salts he brings with him to weekend bar fights. It looks like a tiny jar of horseradish. He’ll choke himself awake if you wave it under his nose two or three times. The TV is still on. It’s Ray Rayner now, and Garfield Goose. Tickle his feet as a last resort. Sometimes this makes him convulse to the floor. Get out of the way.
Lay out his clothes. It’ll look like a person on mom’s side. Dark flannels – a fresh dago tee, a pair of thick woolen socks. Transfer yesterday’s pockets over: a pack of Marlboros, loose change, a nail clipper, a handkerchief, and a souvenir lighter from a local casino.
While he’s Barbasol and Bryl-creaming in the bathroom, make the call. Use your new voice, your deepest voice. Say, This is Mike. My car’s acting up again. I’m going to be about a half hour late. The dispatch secretary probably knows, but she says, See you soon sweetie. Get here when you can.
Mom has left a fry in the pan – a couple sausages, eggs that were flipped at least an hour ago. Heat them up. When he comes down, he’ll ask if she made it. Insist it is your own creation. Two fresh pieces of toast make the whole meal seem fresh.
Do not stare while he is eating. Hand him his thermos and brown bag lunch, your face as blank as a box of Kleenex. Do not follow him to the door. He’ll start to say, “Listen, about last night…” but don’t make him finish that sentence. Say, Have a great day in a voice full of sunshine and hope.
Now get yourself ready for school, dickwad. You’ve got a test on the Civil War in an hour that’s worth like a hundred points.
wildly outside, the incessant muttering, the
sound of construction boots up the front
stairs, and the door slamming open,
smashing against the writing desk on which no one ever wrote.
And the screaming. Are you awake? You don’t answer, of course, but that almost never matters. The best you can hope for is that it is someone else’s turn.
Your mother’s, for example. You hoor. You’ve broken my heart for the last time, or your brother’s You fucking punk. I wish you were never born.
But some nights you don’t get so lucky: Brendan, he’ll say in the super-calm voice he uses when he tries to persuade himself he’s not plastered, you know you are the biggest disappointment of my life. I thought you might be able to make something of yourself, but look at you. Listen and nod, your face as blank as a nurse’s uniform; agreeing helps him go to sleep faster. Make him some food or get him another drink. It does no good to argue.
The goal here is silence and a few more hours of sleep. Help him untie the laces on those boots. Try to move things along to the sofa or upstairs. If you can just get him to lie down, he’ll fall asleep faster. Agree with everything. Put on Channel 9. Late night laugh tracks soothe. Mom is curled up on the edge of the bed. Her side. There’s no way she’s sleeping, but let her pretend.
In the morning, it’s all up to you. Mom has gone to work early. Before you get yourself to school you’ve got to get him to work. Speak softly at first and only gradually increase the volume. Start with a cold compress. In the sock drawer, find the smelling salts he brings with him to weekend bar fights. It looks like a tiny jar of horseradish. He’ll choke himself awake if you wave it under his nose two or three times. The TV is still on. It’s Ray Rayner now, and Garfield Goose. Tickle his feet as a last resort. Sometimes this makes him convulse to the floor. Get out of the way.
Lay out his clothes. It’ll look like a person on mom’s side. Dark flannels – a fresh dago tee, a pair of thick woolen socks. Transfer yesterday’s pockets over: a pack of Marlboros, loose change, a nail clipper, a handkerchief, and a souvenir lighter from a local casino.
While he’s Barbasol and Bryl-creaming in the bathroom, make the call. Use your new voice, your deepest voice. Say, This is Mike. My car’s acting up again. I’m going to be about a half hour late. The dispatch secretary probably knows, but she says, See you soon sweetie. Get here when you can.
Mom has left a fry in the pan – a couple sausages, eggs that were flipped at least an hour ago. Heat them up. When he comes down, he’ll ask if she made it. Insist it is your own creation. Two fresh pieces of toast make the whole meal seem fresh.
Do not stare while he is eating. Hand him his thermos and brown bag lunch, your face as blank as a box of Kleenex. Do not follow him to the door. He’ll start to say, “Listen, about last night…” but don’t make him finish that sentence. Say, Have a great day in a voice full of sunshine and hope.
Now get yourself ready for school, dickwad. You’ve got a test on the Civil War in an hour that’s worth like a hundred points.
