Six Months

Thanksgiving Morning

We have the run of St. Anne's because none of the supervisors want to work. We collect the nuns from different parts of the building and race to see who gets to the dining room first. The carpet is so old it's shiny. It offers no resistance to wheelchairs. Meggie and Peter are already there, grinning. I slow down and pat Sister Christopher's shoulder. "Sorry," I say. "We lost."


That Dick

My dad forwards me stuff. He writes things like, "I thought this was cute" or "This is hilarious!" at the top. This morning I get a photo of a very large dick wearing a Santa hat. I type, "Was this intended for me?" and send it back to him. All through algebra, all I can think about is that dick.


Beauty and the Beast Wallpaper Border

My mother's trying to make a wallpaper border stick to that old paneling. I'm watching "The Wedding Singer" with her boyfriend, Gil. We've eaten so many Doritos we've got little cuts in the corners of our mouths. Later, when I take off my uniform, I notice a ridge around my stomach from the elastic. And I smell different, too. "You could help, you know," Mother yells up to me. Even I know that a basement is no place for a baby.


She's More Meggie's Friend Than Mine

Ophelia Redd has just started working at St. Anne's. She's 45 and she has a hundred kids and Meggie and I go over to her house after work to smoke pot. We have stopped going to the Barley Corn. I can't understand Ophelia when she doesn't have her teeth in. First thing she does when our shift is over is take out her teeth. Once I saw one of her kids take an apple out of the garbage and bite it.


Some Clown

Everything smells like metal today. I'm sitting in the library and I've read the same paragraph in "Bacteria, Parasites, and You!" five times. The cheerleader has sat down across from me. She keeps sniffing. I want to lay my head down on my books and sleep. My dad called last night and told me about his new job. He thinks it will involve travel, but not travel to Waterloo. Maybe Des Moines. He said the last time he called, a man answered the phone. I hope your mom's not gotten herself involved with some clown, he said. The cheerleader sniffs again.


Threes

The nuns die in threes at St. Anne's. Usually over a weekend. There are more going out than coming in, so our workload in the dining room is getting lighter. This is good, because I am moving slower. When Sister Christopher talks, the baby kicks. She makes the Sign of the Cross on my belly.

You can email Kathy at mrsfish1960@yahoo.com.