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JulianneMari·e l echlllan
Ordinary Time
Pope John Paul II is dead. I wouldn't fading tablecloth between us, "Your teacher
have bet the old man would live to see the
twenty-first century. It's been two years since take a shower this week?"
he could stand long enough to say Mass. The eye roll. She's good at it, too. It's the
"Roman Catholics all over the world slow, sideways leftward roll, then up to the
gather to mourn," says CNN's solemn-faced brows, the snappy little back-and-forth sway
International Correspondent, Chuck Rob-
erts, cutting his gaze downward, averting and finally, the eyelash flutter. The ((Dadd~
the camera's steady eye. I wonder what's out-
side of the frame, what's below. Maybe he's you're such a bore, ifyou were a puppy I wouldnt
bowing his head in reverence. Or maybe he's
cursing the dark Vatican rain pecking at his play fetch with you" combination. Christ. .
The toilet upstairs is leaking-dripplllg
Gucci's.
I shut the damn box off. My nine-year- like hell, actually. Mindy scrunches up her ~ose
old Mindy will never finish her dinner if I so all the freckles look like one milky tacnha·birl,rthI-t
don't. Her mother would go postal if she mark, and scoots to the edge of her
knew we watched T.Y. during meals. That's
Sheila, the proverbial "ex" for you. stinks like a dirty sponge in here-Sheila's been
"Dinner time is family talk time!!" she on my ass about it, but damned if I can pay a
used to say, smacking the remote on the
warm, dusty fridge top, and flipping me that plumber. h
saccharine smile. Yeah, right. An overdose of
reruns is what did our family in. I try and edge myself in front o~ t e
If I wanted to be a son of a bitch, I'd catch bucket, hoping Mindy will lose lllter~
chirp that-family talk time, every time she est. The bucket's disgusting. It's paled or.angmee·d··
drops our little girl off for these weekend visi- no, as Sheila would say, salmon, an nrn h
tations. If I wanted to be.
with long, thick drops of dried paint. It's~ ~~
There are ways of making a kid talk. Used
to be, if I put a steamy orange pile of Kraft washed out, sickly pink stuff she slathere e
Dinosaur Mac & Cheese in front of Mindy,
I could find out what she did in school, even over Mindy's crib the first summer we wer
on a regular Pledge-of-Allegiance-to-three-o-
clock:bell Tuesday. But she's getting older. married. " he
. Hey Mind," I say, sliding the gray plas- says, "Dad, what happened to your fa.ce?lllgs a
tic pepper shaker back and forth across the rubbing her fleshy cheek an d upp
flower ringed Dixie cup to her lips. .d
I haven't shaved since Thursday. I deC!d~
ed I might quit. My nerves are raw;. may hhuanrrys·
get away from me. I guess I was lll. .dal cat
mheodmiIClC.[nl edca·buis~t
Or my razor was dull. Or that
of mine flung himself out 0f a
net at me. The little nick Mindy's non~e .' ~t a
under my right earlobe, sti·11s·nngs. It s JUwet.
little slit, but it's soft and open~al~s: have
It's sore because I keep picking at It. d
