Listening



Dad came home, took one look at the setup and went to ask Mom what was going on.

Then he came out briefly to ask what toppings people wanted on their pizzas.

Electra didn’t pause or comment. She just kept flipping and twisting. She was actually starting to glow with a sheen of sweat.

“Half mushroom and onion,” I guessed, “half very finely chopped mushroom and onion, please.”

“The usual,” he nodded and went out.

By the time it was delivered she was starting to scare me. She missed grabs from time to time. She always recovered, but I could see that she wasn’t on top of the game anymore.

So as she got to the end and turned around, I reached down to grab her. I didn’t sneak up from behind, that only works in the movies. I came down from above and in front of her, so she saw me coming.

She ducked but couldn’t get away. “Let me go!” she screamed.

“I’m going to go eat dinner,” I said. “You have the choice of eating dinner with us, or of sitting in my hand while I eat dinner.”

“Put me down! I’m not done!” she shouted.

“You’re done IN!” I replied. “The simple fact that I CAUGHT you proves that.” I carried her into the living room. Dad told anecdotes about silly things happening in the office. Mom asked after coworkers she knew. I held my pet over the plate with her slice, I ate my slices one-handed.

Electra fumed.

Dad mentioned something he’d seen on the news about Bell’s poll standings. They weren’t good. Mom had seen Mrs. Anthony on Phil Donahue. She’d been well received. I mentioned how the class officers had distributed roses as a fund raiser. I got tasked with delivering the ones from anonymous admirers.

“Why you?” Dad asked.

“We absolutely could not reveal the identity of the anonymous senders. So no matter who asked, we had to play dumb. And Chip said I’m especially talented at playing dumb.” Mom and Dad laughed. I laughed. Electra did NOT point out that Chip had said no such thing. Now I started to worry.

So instead of getting up to get a fourth slice, I shifted plates around and started to eat Electra’s.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Well, you’re not eating it.”

“I was gonna eat it!”

“I told you you had a choice. You seem to have made your choice.”

“Gimmee!”

“Let me go, put me down, give me the pizza. It’s like you forgot who’s the pet-“

“Conrad,” Mom said quietly. But firmly.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said. I put the slice and my pet down together. She grabbed handful of cheesy topping and started to eat. Once she started, she gorged. She had worked up a horrible appetite. She started eating a path across the flatbread.

Dad gestured when I started to get up. He brought me a couple more slices. Mom handed me three more paper napkins. We talked a bit more over and around Electra. Finally, she was lying flat on her back, covered with tomato sauce from hair to slippers, holding her belly and moaning.

We waited.

When she tried to get up, I pinched her forearm and lifted her to a sitting position. She looked around my family.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dad asked.

“Or do you want a bath?” Mom asked.

My sylph pulled a wet string of hair back from her face and tried to flip the sauce off of her fingers. Then she shrugged. “You know those divorced couples on TV? The ones where the parents hate each other, and they use the kids as poker chips, trying to get one over on their ex?”

“Yeah,” I said. Mom and Dad scooted their chairs across from mine and held hands.

“Well,” Electra said, then paused. She took a deep breath, then giggled. “I’d have KILLED to have parents like that.”

No one laughed.

“Seriously, I didn’t excel at school to make anyone proud. I was hoping I’d get noticed. Just plain spoken to. Or maybe get an Olympic medal, some endorsements, bring in some cash. Be called an ‘asset,’ just once.”

Mom laid her hand on the table and took mine into a tight grip. She was about as teary-eyed as Electra was.

“You remember how you used to hate Chip? Well, he WAS an ass. That’s why I dated him. I kinda hoped we’d get brought in by the cops. Just once, one of those ‘do you know where your daughter is?’ phone calls? And then my mom would say ‘my who?’ and word would get around and then everyone would know… They’d know.”

Dad was more stoic, but he did seem to squeeze mom’s hand a lot.

Electra looked up at me, then followed my arm down to where I held Mom’s hand. She gave a sad smile. I put a finger out where she could hold it.

“I’m all… saucy,” she warned me.

“It’ll clean,” Dad said. “If you need a hug right now…”

“Thanks,” she said softly, “but-“ And then she ripped out a belch. It was an enormous belch. It was so forceful it knocked her backwards to lay along the pizza sauce again. No one laughed. We smiled, couldn’t help that, but no one laughed. She smiled to see our expressions.

I didn’t hesitate to pick her up this time. I stroked her sauced hair and her sauced body suit and the slippers that needed to be thrown out at this point.

“Is it too late to opt for the bath?” she asked.

“No, dear,” Mom said. “All you have to do is ask.” She held out her hands and I transferred the sylph over. Electra looked like she’d been in two traffic accidents and then the ambulance had rolled over.

Mom went upstairs to the master bathroom. I started to pick up plates. Dad stopped me.

“Why don’t you wipe down the gym, in case it’s gotten slippery from sweat or something.”

“Yes, sir.”



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Index

28. The Reaction

30. Hearing