I.

remember scrounging for my own dinner because I couldn't shake her out of her stupor and my dear old dad worked swing shift.

386.

I.

remember other kids, laughing at my disgusting clothes. Mom was too fucked up to wash them and I was too little to try....

All the while he talks, he sucks down Turkey, and it's easy to imagine the scene, except for the dirty clothes. Daddy demands clean.

I.

remember how excited my classmates got about bringing their parents to school plays. I prayed mine wouldn't show up drunk.

I remember working my ass off to bring home straight As and the day I finally did, my mother wasn't home. In fact, she'd gone for good.

387.

That was the Most My daddy has said to me in almost ten years. I can barely catch my breath, **

and he did all the talking. Still, I have questions. "Why did she leave?"

He shrugs.

She came limping back several years later, told me it was my father's fault.

Said he slept around. Like that was a good enough excuse for what her leaving did to me.

Lots of people's parents split up, especially over stuff like that. But...

"Why didn't she take you with her when she left?" What made him so cold?

She said she thought my father would take better care of me. That she had no **

resources. That part, I'm sure, was true.

But she never once checked on my welfare.

There's more to the story. A lot more.

But it involves his father. He won't share **

that part--the part I most need to know.

The part about what makes Daddy tick.

388.

The Topic of Conversation Plunges him deeper into the depths of his bottle, and he disappears into his bathroom for a while. I know what he's after in there. Oxy dessert, to chase his Wild Turkey main course.

By the time Mom has dinner ready, Daddy has reached a state of oblivion.

He will not share the table tonight.

Which just leaves us girls. Kaeleigh watches Mom whip up a Hollandaise to go with the fresh fish entree.

She wants a daughter-mother talk about Ian, but I can't figure out why.

It would be a blistering day in Antarctica before I confessed any of my extracurricular activities. Think I'll reroute the conversation.

"So, Mom..." I drop my voice to just above a whisper. "Do you know what happened between Daddy and his father?"

Does she know? If so, will she break down and tell us the necessary backstory?

Mom pauses her whisking, but not for long.

Sorry. He never told me the whole thing.

Anyway, that will have to come from him.

389.

She Knows More, of Course But she won't spill it tonight. Will we **

ever get the keys to this locked door?

I want to scream.

Curiosity strangles **

me until I choke out, "Was Daddy abused?"

Mom opens the broiler, flips the fish. Finally **

she says, There are all kinds of abuse.

This is the perfect opening, Kaeleigh, **

the way into asking for help. But no way.

Kaeleigh doesn't want to go there, **

doesn't want to go anywhere near.

Mom saves her the trouble.

Okay.

Dinner's ready. Let's open some wine.

390.

A Lot of Wine Later We are no closer to learning each other's dark secrets, and much closer to our own states of stupor.

Kaeleigh has already retreated, not a single word about Ian.

No doubt a very wise decision.

Tomorrow it's back to the books (and, damn, a.m. history with Lawler) for me, back to party **

planning for Mom. The clock says ten forty-five. "Guess I'd better go to bed. It's getting late."

She looks at me through chardonnay- lidded eyes.

You look like her, you know. Very much so, in fact.

What is she babbling about?

My head feels wobbly, my tongue thick as pudding. "Who?"

Your grandmother. I thought so when you were little, but it's even more obvious now.

391.

I Stumble Off to Bed But find no comfort in its feathers and patchwork.

Despite the wine and rich food, breaking down into calories, I feel cold, way deep inside, and it's the kind of cold that can't be fought **

with Hollandaise or alcohol or a pile of quilts. I wish I had a joint. A big, fat, stinky j to slide me into sleep. But no, all I can do is lie here, brain turning somersaults.

It's nights like **

these when memories stir, whipping themselves into stiff peaks of pain. Here comes one now, materializing like Daddy did that night.

The night he came to Kaeleigh, crossed **

the final line.

392.

Mom had Been Spending More and more time away from home. We were getting used to it. But that night, something was different.

Kaeleigh and I lay in bed, **

listening to Daddy scream into the phone.

What the fuck do you think you're doing, Kay?