"Coup de Foudre" 83
Too early for drama?
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, July 2016
Debbie Horvath couldn’t sleep.
She tried reading a couple of chapters of a new detective novel, but after about ten pages she couldn’t remember what she’d read. She turned off the light, flipped over and tried to clear her head, but it was impossible. And it didn’t help that Carl, who apparently didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘insomnia,’ was snoring away next to her. That man could sleep through a fucking earthquake, followed by a tsunami, followed by an atomic blast.
Finally, Deb got out of bed and went downstairs to the kitchen. She washed all the dishes. Then she washed some pots and pans that weren’t even dirty. Then she did a load of laundry. Then another load. By that time it was getting light out.
She called Mikey.
“Jesus, Ma! I just got to bed!”
“Were you sleeping?”
“Of course not,” said Michael. “How can I sleep when Brian…” Michael stopped. “I have to go. I don’t want to wake up Ben.”
“Then go someplace where you won’t wake him up,” Debbie ordered. “Because I need to talk to you.”
She heard some sounds, some grumbling, a door creaking. “I’m going downstairs,” said Michael.
“Good.” Deb turned on the Mr. Coffee. Then she settled at the kitchen table. “How was Brian when you left the hospital?”
“How do you think?” Michael snapped. “In a goddamn coma! That’s how he is, Ma, and that’s how he’s going to be for the next couple of days.”
“I know, hon,” said Deb. “I thought maybe the doctor had something to say.”
“The doctor went home. Everybody went home. So Ben and I went home, too,” said Michael. “What more can I do?”
“What about Justin?” Debbie asked. “Did he come back?”
Michael sniffed. “Yes, he came back. Ted, too. Leave it to Ted - he made a list of things for everybody to do. I guess that’s what being an accountant is all about - you make lists of shit and hand them out to people.”
“What the hell kind of lists? Like a shopping list?”
“People to call about Brian. Ted wants me to call some people out in Los Angeles who are friends of Brian’s. Ted and Cynthia are handling all the paperwork - insurance and stuff. And Cynthia is going to try to get Brian’s housekeeper to come back here to clean the house and look after Gus.”
Deb’s feathers immediately ruffled. “I’m taking care of Gus! No ifs, ands, or buts!”
Michael sighed. “I told Ted you’d say that. But the kid can’t stay with you and Carl indefinitely, Ma. We don’t know how long Brian’s going to be in the hospital, and he may have rehab after that. Gus will be starting school at the end of August. That’s a little more than a month away. He can’t be living at your house then.”
“And why the fuck not?” Debbie huffed. “He can go to the same school you went to, which was also good enough for his high and mighty father. Or do they want some fancy schmancy private school for His Highness Young Mr. Kinney?”
“I don’t know, Ma.” Michael’s voice was weary. “I’m only repeating what Ted told me. I know you want to get your hands on Gus for as long as you can, but this isn’t about what you want. It’s about Brian and his son. Oh, and about Lindsay, in case you’ve forgotten her.”
“I haven’t forgotten about her at all,” said Debbie, even though she actually hadn’t given Gus’ mother a single thought, what with all the other shit to worry about.
“Good,” said Michael. “Because Ted thinks you should be the one to call her and tell her about Brian.”
That stopped Deb dead in her tracks. “Me? Why the fuck do I have to tell her?”
“Because you’re a woman and she’s a woman,” Michael argued. “And you’re both mothers. You know what it’s like to have a son, so maybe she can relate to you when you tell her that her son’s father is in a fucking coma! Besides, that gives me one less hysterical person to deal with over the phone. Are those enough reasons?”
“Yeah,” Debbie admitted. “Those are enough reasons.”
“Ted gave me Lindz’s number. He got it off Brian’s phone. Do you have a pencil?”
Debbie took down the number and then stared at it. Why the fuck did she really have to do this? But Michael was right. She could relate as a mother. Lindsay had always been nice to her over the years, at least until she conspired with that bitch Melanie Marcus to take her granddaughter away to Canada. Then the two of them broke up and Mel high-tailed it down to Miami, which was even farther away than Toronto! The more Debbie thought about it, the madder she became.
“Ma? Are you there? Do you need me to repeat that number?”
“No, I got it. Thanks, hon. You should get some sleep now, baby.”
“I was trying to until you called me! Good night. Or good morning. Whichever it is.”
After Michael hung up Deb poured herself a cup of coffee. If she was going to be awake, she might as well be awake all the way.
“Please, Mrs. Horvath, don’t call my mom.”
Debbie looked up to see Gus standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the bannister.
“What are you doing up, honey?” she asked gently. “I thought you were sound asleep.”
“How am I supposed to sleep?” Gus looked like he was about five years old, his hair tousled, wearing an old Captain Astro tee shirt of Michael’s, his eyes red and damp.
“Come over here and sit down, baby. I’ll make you some hot chocolate,” Debbie coaxed.
“It’s July,” said Gus, slipping into the chair next to Deb’s as she got up and went to the cupboard. “Who drinks hot chocolate in July?”
Debbie put her hands on her hips. “Does that mean you don’t want any?”
“Yes, please,” said Gus. “I’d like some.”
“Good.” Debbie put the kettle on to boil and opened a package of Swiss Miss. “Hot chocolate makes me feel better no matter what time of year. Plus, it’ll help you to sleep.”
“I don’t think so.” Gus rubbed his eyes. “Nothing will help that.”
“Food and a good night’s sleep is a cure for anything,” said Debbie. “Especially for growing boys - and I specialize in growing boys.”
“Gay boys,” Gus murmured. “But I’m not gay.”
“All boys.” Debbie took out a large mug. “This is the way I make hot chocolate. I always put a little milk in the bottom before I pour in the hot water. That makes it creamier.”
“Whatever,” said Gus.
She almost gave him a soft smack on the side of his head, but then she remembered that this wasn’t Mikey. “Drink it and shut the fuck up, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Now,” said Debbie, setting the mug in front of Gus. “You’re gonna be staying here for the next few days, so we better go over to the house and get some clean clothes for you. Michael’s old tee shirts and Carl’s hand-me-downs aren’t gonna do it for you.”
“I can stay at the house by myself,” said Gus, sipping the hot chocolate. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
Deb laughed. “That’s what you think! You don’t have a car and I don’t think you can cook for yourself, so you’re staying here - at least until your dad gets out of the hospital.”
“When will that be?” Gus said darkly. “I don’t think he’s ever coming home. First Ron and now Dad. Everybody I care about is dead! Everybody!”
“Now hold your horses,” said Debbie. “Your father is injured, but he’ll get better. And he’ll come home. Everything will be back to normal before you know it.”
“Like fuck it will,” said Gus.
“Hey! Watch your fucking language!” Debbie warned. “I know you’re upset, but you gotta look on the bright side.”
“Sure,” said Gus. He began softly singing, ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.’ And then he whistled the chorus.
“That’s the spirit,” said Deb, misunderstanding the song completely.
Gus winced. “You don’t understand! I killed my dad! It’s all my fault!”
“It was an accident, baby,” said Debbie.
“It wasn’t!” Gus insisted. “Dad brought that… that fucking Justin Taylor to the house. I couldn’t sit there with HIM! So I ran out. I wanted to get away. His… his Jeep was there, with the keys in it, so I took it. But… I couldn’t drive it. It kept stalling. And Dad followed me on the motorcycle. But something… happened. The Jeep started lurching… and… and then the motorcycle was skidding. It was on the ground. And Daddy was… he was…” Gus broke down into wracking sobs. “I did it! He’s dead and I did it!”
“He’s not dead, honey,” said Debbie. “He’ll wake up soon and be home before you know it.”
“No!” Gus pushed back the chair and stood up, his face red. “He’s going to die! And if he lives he’ll never be the same again! He won’t be! I know it!”
Debbie got up and held the boy in her arms. “You don’t know that. Lots of people seem really bad off, but they get better. Much better! Why a couple of times my brother Vic was at death’s door and I thought it was the end for sure. But he bounced right back, better than ever.”
Gus sniffed. “And where’s Vic today?”
Debbie frowned. “Vic’s in heaven.”
“I knew it,” Gus scoffed. “I’m sick of people telling me things will be okay when I know they won’t be! So stop lying. I want to go back to the house and stay there, where people will leave me the fuck alone!”
Now Debbie realized that she needed to take a stronger stance. Gus was a Kinney, after all - stubborn, single-minded, and infuriating, just like his father. And, she thought, like his grandparents, Jack and Joan.
“Michael told me to call your mother and tell her about Brian,” Debbie said. “I’m going to ask her to come down here and stay with you, if you won’t stay here. You’re her son and it’s the least she can do. And I imagine she’ll want to throw herself on top of Brian in his hospital bed, just like all the other people who are madly in love with Mr. Kinney. You can deal with Lindsay and I won’t have to worry about you.”
“No!” Gus almost yelled it. “Don’t call my mother! I don’t want her here! She’ll only make things worse! And what if she brings that bitch Mavis with her? Or what if they want to take me back to Toronto?”
“Maybe that’s the best thing for you, baby,” Debbie suggested. “You don’t want to stay here with me and Carl and you can’t stay by yourself. It might be better if you went home with your mom. School is going to start soon. You can go up there. Brian might be recovering for a while, so maybe that’s the best way.”
Gus pushed Debbie away. “I won’t go back to Toronto! I don’t want to live with my mom and fucking Mavis! And they don’t want me - Mavis is having a baby of her own, so the last thing they want is me ruining their perfect little family. Dad and Ron were the only ones who wanted me! Now that’s been destroyed. Ron is dead and Daddy… he’s never… never…” Gus stopped. He stared at Debbie with haunted eyes and then fled back upstairs.
“Jesus,” Deb breathed. “Another generation of drama queens. But he’ll get over it. I better call Lindsay. That’s all I need - another hysterical fit from her. But I better get it over with now before Carl wakes up and wants his breakfast. I wonder if he wants pancakes this morning?”
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, July 2016
Debbie Horvath couldn’t sleep.
She tried reading a couple of chapters of a new detective novel, but after about ten pages she couldn’t remember what she’d read. She turned off the light, flipped over and tried to clear her head, but it was impossible. And it didn’t help that Carl, who apparently didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘insomnia,’ was snoring away next to her. That man could sleep through a fucking earthquake, followed by a tsunami, followed by an atomic blast.
Finally, Deb got out of bed and went downstairs to the kitchen. She washed all the dishes. Then she washed some pots and pans that weren’t even dirty. Then she did a load of laundry. Then another load. By that time it was getting light out.
She called Mikey.
“Jesus, Ma! I just got to bed!”
“Were you sleeping?”
“Of course not,” said Michael. “How can I sleep when Brian…” Michael stopped. “I have to go. I don’t want to wake up Ben.”
“Then go someplace where you won’t wake him up,” Debbie ordered. “Because I need to talk to you.”
She heard some sounds, some grumbling, a door creaking. “I’m going downstairs,” said Michael.
“Good.” Deb turned on the Mr. Coffee. Then she settled at the kitchen table. “How was Brian when you left the hospital?”
“How do you think?” Michael snapped. “In a goddamn coma! That’s how he is, Ma, and that’s how he’s going to be for the next couple of days.”
“I know, hon,” said Deb. “I thought maybe the doctor had something to say.”
“The doctor went home. Everybody went home. So Ben and I went home, too,” said Michael. “What more can I do?”
“What about Justin?” Debbie asked. “Did he come back?”
Michael sniffed. “Yes, he came back. Ted, too. Leave it to Ted - he made a list of things for everybody to do. I guess that’s what being an accountant is all about - you make lists of shit and hand them out to people.”
“What the hell kind of lists? Like a shopping list?”
“People to call about Brian. Ted wants me to call some people out in Los Angeles who are friends of Brian’s. Ted and Cynthia are handling all the paperwork - insurance and stuff. And Cynthia is going to try to get Brian’s housekeeper to come back here to clean the house and look after Gus.”
Deb’s feathers immediately ruffled. “I’m taking care of Gus! No ifs, ands, or buts!”
Michael sighed. “I told Ted you’d say that. But the kid can’t stay with you and Carl indefinitely, Ma. We don’t know how long Brian’s going to be in the hospital, and he may have rehab after that. Gus will be starting school at the end of August. That’s a little more than a month away. He can’t be living at your house then.”
“And why the fuck not?” Debbie huffed. “He can go to the same school you went to, which was also good enough for his high and mighty father. Or do they want some fancy schmancy private school for His Highness Young Mr. Kinney?”
“I don’t know, Ma.” Michael’s voice was weary. “I’m only repeating what Ted told me. I know you want to get your hands on Gus for as long as you can, but this isn’t about what you want. It’s about Brian and his son. Oh, and about Lindsay, in case you’ve forgotten her.”
“I haven’t forgotten about her at all,” said Debbie, even though she actually hadn’t given Gus’ mother a single thought, what with all the other shit to worry about.
“Good,” said Michael. “Because Ted thinks you should be the one to call her and tell her about Brian.”
That stopped Deb dead in her tracks. “Me? Why the fuck do I have to tell her?”
“Because you’re a woman and she’s a woman,” Michael argued. “And you’re both mothers. You know what it’s like to have a son, so maybe she can relate to you when you tell her that her son’s father is in a fucking coma! Besides, that gives me one less hysterical person to deal with over the phone. Are those enough reasons?”
“Yeah,” Debbie admitted. “Those are enough reasons.”
“Ted gave me Lindz’s number. He got it off Brian’s phone. Do you have a pencil?”
Debbie took down the number and then stared at it. Why the fuck did she really have to do this? But Michael was right. She could relate as a mother. Lindsay had always been nice to her over the years, at least until she conspired with that bitch Melanie Marcus to take her granddaughter away to Canada. Then the two of them broke up and Mel high-tailed it down to Miami, which was even farther away than Toronto! The more Debbie thought about it, the madder she became.
“Ma? Are you there? Do you need me to repeat that number?”
“No, I got it. Thanks, hon. You should get some sleep now, baby.”
“I was trying to until you called me! Good night. Or good morning. Whichever it is.”
After Michael hung up Deb poured herself a cup of coffee. If she was going to be awake, she might as well be awake all the way.
“Please, Mrs. Horvath, don’t call my mom.”
Debbie looked up to see Gus standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on the bannister.
“What are you doing up, honey?” she asked gently. “I thought you were sound asleep.”
“How am I supposed to sleep?” Gus looked like he was about five years old, his hair tousled, wearing an old Captain Astro tee shirt of Michael’s, his eyes red and damp.
“Come over here and sit down, baby. I’ll make you some hot chocolate,” Debbie coaxed.
“It’s July,” said Gus, slipping into the chair next to Deb’s as she got up and went to the cupboard. “Who drinks hot chocolate in July?”
Debbie put her hands on her hips. “Does that mean you don’t want any?”
“Yes, please,” said Gus. “I’d like some.”
“Good.” Debbie put the kettle on to boil and opened a package of Swiss Miss. “Hot chocolate makes me feel better no matter what time of year. Plus, it’ll help you to sleep.”
“I don’t think so.” Gus rubbed his eyes. “Nothing will help that.”
“Food and a good night’s sleep is a cure for anything,” said Debbie. “Especially for growing boys - and I specialize in growing boys.”
“Gay boys,” Gus murmured. “But I’m not gay.”
“All boys.” Debbie took out a large mug. “This is the way I make hot chocolate. I always put a little milk in the bottom before I pour in the hot water. That makes it creamier.”
“Whatever,” said Gus.
She almost gave him a soft smack on the side of his head, but then she remembered that this wasn’t Mikey. “Drink it and shut the fuck up, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Now,” said Debbie, setting the mug in front of Gus. “You’re gonna be staying here for the next few days, so we better go over to the house and get some clean clothes for you. Michael’s old tee shirts and Carl’s hand-me-downs aren’t gonna do it for you.”
“I can stay at the house by myself,” said Gus, sipping the hot chocolate. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
Deb laughed. “That’s what you think! You don’t have a car and I don’t think you can cook for yourself, so you’re staying here - at least until your dad gets out of the hospital.”
“When will that be?” Gus said darkly. “I don’t think he’s ever coming home. First Ron and now Dad. Everybody I care about is dead! Everybody!”
“Now hold your horses,” said Debbie. “Your father is injured, but he’ll get better. And he’ll come home. Everything will be back to normal before you know it.”
“Like fuck it will,” said Gus.
“Hey! Watch your fucking language!” Debbie warned. “I know you’re upset, but you gotta look on the bright side.”
“Sure,” said Gus. He began softly singing, ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.’ And then he whistled the chorus.
“That’s the spirit,” said Deb, misunderstanding the song completely.
Gus winced. “You don’t understand! I killed my dad! It’s all my fault!”
“It was an accident, baby,” said Debbie.
“It wasn’t!” Gus insisted. “Dad brought that… that fucking Justin Taylor to the house. I couldn’t sit there with HIM! So I ran out. I wanted to get away. His… his Jeep was there, with the keys in it, so I took it. But… I couldn’t drive it. It kept stalling. And Dad followed me on the motorcycle. But something… happened. The Jeep started lurching… and… and then the motorcycle was skidding. It was on the ground. And Daddy was… he was…” Gus broke down into wracking sobs. “I did it! He’s dead and I did it!”
“He’s not dead, honey,” said Debbie. “He’ll wake up soon and be home before you know it.”
“No!” Gus pushed back the chair and stood up, his face red. “He’s going to die! And if he lives he’ll never be the same again! He won’t be! I know it!”
Debbie got up and held the boy in her arms. “You don’t know that. Lots of people seem really bad off, but they get better. Much better! Why a couple of times my brother Vic was at death’s door and I thought it was the end for sure. But he bounced right back, better than ever.”
Gus sniffed. “And where’s Vic today?”
Debbie frowned. “Vic’s in heaven.”
“I knew it,” Gus scoffed. “I’m sick of people telling me things will be okay when I know they won’t be! So stop lying. I want to go back to the house and stay there, where people will leave me the fuck alone!”
Now Debbie realized that she needed to take a stronger stance. Gus was a Kinney, after all - stubborn, single-minded, and infuriating, just like his father. And, she thought, like his grandparents, Jack and Joan.
“Michael told me to call your mother and tell her about Brian,” Debbie said. “I’m going to ask her to come down here and stay with you, if you won’t stay here. You’re her son and it’s the least she can do. And I imagine she’ll want to throw herself on top of Brian in his hospital bed, just like all the other people who are madly in love with Mr. Kinney. You can deal with Lindsay and I won’t have to worry about you.”
“No!” Gus almost yelled it. “Don’t call my mother! I don’t want her here! She’ll only make things worse! And what if she brings that bitch Mavis with her? Or what if they want to take me back to Toronto?”
“Maybe that’s the best thing for you, baby,” Debbie suggested. “You don’t want to stay here with me and Carl and you can’t stay by yourself. It might be better if you went home with your mom. School is going to start soon. You can go up there. Brian might be recovering for a while, so maybe that’s the best way.”
Gus pushed Debbie away. “I won’t go back to Toronto! I don’t want to live with my mom and fucking Mavis! And they don’t want me - Mavis is having a baby of her own, so the last thing they want is me ruining their perfect little family. Dad and Ron were the only ones who wanted me! Now that’s been destroyed. Ron is dead and Daddy… he’s never… never…” Gus stopped. He stared at Debbie with haunted eyes and then fled back upstairs.
“Jesus,” Deb breathed. “Another generation of drama queens. But he’ll get over it. I better call Lindsay. That’s all I need - another hysterical fit from her. But I better get it over with now before Carl wakes up and wants his breakfast. I wonder if he wants pancakes this morning?”