Laughter trickles from the kitchen, the exact same way it used to, except it is not Mom laughing with Daddy. It's her...what? Fill-in?

Replacement? Divorce would probably be a better choice.

But considering the reputation factor, divorce will never happen.

Ah. See? Happy memory dashed against the rocks of reality. I can't deal with it in my normal way.

Daddy and Hannah have control **

of the kitchen. No stuffing myself until there's no room left inside for hurt. Aching from just behind my eyes to the pit of my too-empty belly, I go into my bedroom, sit on the floor, pick open a scab or two.

336.

I'm Kind of Liking This blood **

thing. Fetish?

Fixation? Not **

quite an **

obsession **

yet, but I **

can see it **

growing **

into that.

Drip. Drip.

Steady. Slow.

Drip-drip.

Quicker yet.

Drip-drip-drip.

Drip-drip-drip.

Drip.

Drip **

Drip 337.

I'd Probably Just Let myself drip, but I did promise to show up at work and help out with the Halloween decorations.

I'm rummaging through the medicine cabinet for a couple of Band-Aids when the telephone rings.

Will you get that, please?

calls Daddy.

If it's for me, tell them I'll call back in a few minutes.

The nearest phone is in the hall.

I rush to reach it before the fifth ring feeds it to the machine. "Hello?"

No response, but a sharp rustle on the far end, like someone has dropped a stack of papers.

I wait, but no voice follows, so I repeat, "Hello? Is anyone there?" Still no answer.

Bad connection? Prank call?

Either way, I've got to go. "Sorry.

I'm late for work. Try back later."

338.

Why Am I Always So Polite?

I mean, that was just so annoying.

No wonder Daddy gets mad about these recent hang-up calls.

Is that what this was? I'm not sure.

I was the one who did the hanging up, after all.

Who was it?

calls Daddy as I start toward the door.

"Wrong number," I answer. No use letting Hannah see his dark underside, is there?

Okay, maybe there is, but I'll save that card for later.

I pop my head through the kitchen doorway. "Bye.

I'm going to work." Hannah looks up and gives a small wave. Daddy does not even turn.

Don't stay out late. I'll wait up for you.

339.

His Words Send ice chips pulsing through my veins. No, Daddy, don't wait up, unless you wait at Hannah's.

And suddenly it comes to me that not only is he already home, but he has not yet started drinking.

No Turkey stink; no indistinct sentences; no red-rimmed, tear- choked eyes. Unreal.

I can't remember the last time I saw him look so human. But how long can it last?

340.

My Hand Is Turning The doorknob when the phone rings again. I hesitate, know I should ignore it. But somehow I have to find out who's on the other end. Work will wait. "I've got it!"

Caller ID says only Private Name, Private Number.

It's weird, but my hand twitches as I reach for the receiver. "Hello?"

Who is this?

Odd way to open a dialogue.

"Uh, this is Kaeleigh. Who's this?" A long stretch of silence follows and I repeat, "Hello?"

Kaeleigh?

OMG. Is the woman dense?

But her voice, soft and scratchy as an old vinyl record, tugs at a place inside of me. "Yes, it's Kaeleigh. And you are...?"

Your grandmother.

341.

Not Grandma Betty Calling from Florida, no, she's busy with her new (relatively speaking-- I think he's like eighty) husband. Yech. Ugly picture. Anyway, I know her voice, and this isn't it.

Instinctively, I lower my own voice. "You mean my father's mother?" The one who vanished so long ago?

The one who...who what?

That's right. I know it's been a very long time...