Starlight On Kansas

Chapter 3

 
Either Michael is a staller, has little care for family, or has delt with enough whiny females for the day, because he didn't answer Peggy's call.

"He''s probably at work," she'd said through gritted teeth. "I'll call back later. He'll pick up. I know he will. He hates putting things off."

Now we sit at the kitchen table, waiting until six o'clock when his work day is over. "What else can you tell me about him?" I ask, twirling my pencil. Peggy didn't believe me when I said I could do advanced algebra and asked me to prove it. It's hard to write math problems for yourself, though.

Peggy lights a cigarette and takes a drag. "He's an ass, period." Her voice hardens to ice. She sighs when she sees my face. "But he'll like you," she says. "He won't show it, but he will."

"What if he doesn't?"

Peggy thinks for a moment, then shrugs. "It's only four months."

Real comforting, Peggy.

She looks at the clock and smiles wryly. It reads 6:02. "Here we go," darling." She stands like an evil queen determined to bring him down. "Let's try calling our precious boy again."

Once she's out of view I slip into the guest room and pick up the phone to listen in on their conversation. "Hello?" Peggy asks, her voice sweet and slick and so fake it makes me wince.

There's a sigh on the other end before a deep, smooth voice answers.

"Margaret."

Ooh, full names. 

Michael sounds less than enthused. His voice, not quite grating, is deep. Smooth. But it has a sort of grainy edge to it. He sounds like this isn't the first unpleasant call he's had today.

"Michael. Glad to see you're well." 

She certainly doesn't sound like it. 

"What do you want, Peg?" 

Ooh, nicknames. These two were close at some point. I sit down and slide closer to the dresser to ease the stretching phone cord, curling it around my finger. This one's sticky with dust as well.

Note to self: If you're going to dust one thing in a house, make it the phone.

"Alice has been knocking on death's door for the past six months and Lorrie's been on her own."

"What?" For a second, his tone is pure of irritation, of awkwardness and dread and all the other things I didn't realize were in his tone until he dropped them. 

Peggy sighs. "Grief of losing a child. They say it's the hardest kind. Now, I've decided to take her with me to California, and you're going to take Loretta."

"I'm gonna do what now?"

I can't tell if he's shocked or mad or both.

"I'm taking Alice, you're taking Loretta." The way Peggy says it, it's a blunt statement. She's not open to negotiation. 

Michael exhales a humorless laugh. "You sound awfully sure of yourself." 

He's getting cocky.

"Michael, you owe me one." Now it's more of a whine. I half expect Peg to stamp her foot and pout. 

"I do not." He brushes her off just like that. I can't help but wonder if he's thinking, 'That crazy girl . . .'

"You do too and you know it, you selfish, shallow, useless bastard, I'm--"

"Don't hurt yourself, sweetie."

Michael's got a fake sweet tone of his own.

"What did you just call me?"

It's as if the earth stood still. Peggy's metallic words hang in the air like fog. If Michael knows her, he should know she's reached her limit. If he taunts her anymore, he's going to get Hurricane Margaret.

"You heard me," he says, but it's more of a dare than a fact.

And then it hits me: He wants to make her mad. He wants Hurricane Peg, and he's going to get it. I can hear Peggy fuming on the other line, struggling to keep it together.

"Michael. I hoped we could work this out like adults."

"Ohhh, you want to be adults?" He's not just playing with matches now, he's drowning himself in gasoline. "Just let me put away my dollies and we can play all the house you want."

These two have explosive history. Either that or Michael doesn't know what's good for him.

"Give me three reasons why you can't take her." Peggy sucks in her breath, just barely keeping calm.

"Fine. Number one: I have a full-time job. I can't watch a child."

"She can watch herself, for the most part. She just needs someone to keep her from killing herself."

"Oh, well, that changes everything. As long as she doesn't kill herself between the hours of 6:14 to 6:30 we won't have any issues."

Oh, Michael, I pity you.

But Peggy doesn't lose it. Instead, she huffs and continues. "Number two?"

"I don't even know Laurel."

"Loretta," Peggy snarls through clenched teeth. "And you do. You met her when she was seven."

"Well, I don't know her now," he says dismissively.

"Number three," Peggy says, her voice increasingly loud.

"Number three." I can hear the self-satisfied smirk in his tone, feel his snarky, flippant opposition radiate through the phone. "I don't do kids."

***

There's only so much a woman like Peggy can take. Michael pushed all her buttons, yanked all her strings, and (in a metaphorical sense) whipped her around like a five-year-old with a rag doll on a swing set.

"Michael Reid," she starts, the words a low growl, "you will take Loretta, and you will make it work with your stupid job, and your stupid life, whether you like it or not, and I'm not taking no for an answer." Peggy slams the phone down with a bang so audible it makes me jump all the way in the other room. I lightly set my phone down and slap a curious, innocent little girl look on my face before walking to the dining room, where Peggy paces back and forth, cursing obscenities even she seldom dares to utter.

I stand there patiently like a good girl and wait for her to be done.

"Peggy." I tap her gently after a minute when it seems she's going insane. Not that I'm one to talk.

"What?" she snaps, then turns to see me. Her face softens. "Sorry, darling." She sighs and looks to the ceiling. "Do you know where your mom keeps the wine?"

I know she puts more effort into keeping it hidden than the rest of the alcohol. "Under the sink," I say.

Peggy pours her drink and lights a cigarette, then takes a seat beside me. "Alright. Ask away."

"Did he say yes?" I tense the muscles in my forehead, lift my lips slightly to fill out my cheeks, perfecting the look of blank curiosity.

"Well, he doesn't have the option to say no," Peggy says and takes a drink.

"So that means I'm going?"

"What do you think? Yes. Obviously. Again with the thinking out loud."

I sit in silence for a moment. "I'm going to go pack," I say, sliding off the chair and starting down the hallway.

"Sounds good," Peggy says. "Oh, and Loretta? Pack a skirt, darling, you're killing me here."