Her sister. No. Too late in the night. Might wake the baby.
Her father. Bad idea. Probably interrupt one of him and Gloria’s sex romps.
Her mother. Sigh.
She dials.
“Super Duper.” Youthful girl voice answers.
“Hello, can you put me through to Deirdre?”
“Who?”
“Deirdre. Your manager. Can I speak with her?”
“Oh Deeerdrah. Yeah. Um hold on.”
“Super Duper this is Deirdre.”
“Ma.”
“Is this important?” Ma asks. “This isn’t important, is it? If this isn’t important I have to go, Deel. The credit card machines all decided to stop working at once. You know how many people pay with credit? There’s a line out the door. I have to go. What do you need?”
She needs her to work Mom-wonders and blow on her cut.
“Judd diarrhea-ed on the floor and uh, I can’t find the cleaning spray. I checked the cupboards.”
“Really, Deel? Hhhhhhhh,” Ma sighs exaggeratedly. “It’s under the kitchen sink. It’s always under the sink. What’s he doing in the house, anyway? You know he’s having trouble with his new food.”
The tears start again. “I’m sorry, Ma.”
“Put him outside again. Make sure he stays there. I have to go.”
Tears drip onto her hand and run down onto the receiver. “Um, what about tonight? It’s my big night. Aren’t you going to wish me luck?”
“I already did before I left. Twice would be bad luck.”
Beddy’s knees buckle, and she manages to thud into her chair.
“Right,” she says. She nods in decorum for a woman who cannot see her.
“I have to go now,” Ma says.
“Ok. Bye, Ma.”
Dialtone, stretching out like a horizon.
Maybe it was unfair of her to believe that Ma could suddenly be there. Second chances can be selfish.
What did she expect from her anyway? The woman always had one automatic response when it came to consolation.
“Ma, I fell.”
“Have a cookie.”
No matter the severity of the injury or injustice, that was her remedy. Her poultice.
Ma, I was raped by wolves on the way home from school.
Ma, my life is a garbage barge being carted slowly out to sea.
Ma, there’s a screaming emptiness inside me as wide and scoured as the Raptured world. No food will fill it.
“Have a cookie,” she’d say. “It always makes me feel better, and it’ll do the same for you. It’s magic.”
Beddy grew up to understand the transubstantiation involved, even if she didn’t know the word. And these things were hard to undo.
The robot woman greets her again. “If you would like to make a call, hang up and try again. If you need help, hang up and dial your operator.”
“Oh, SallyTron 5000, you’re the only one that understands me.” She laughs less desolately. A conceding laugh. You win, Life! You are a funny bastard.