Caring Is Creepy by David Zimmerman Read Free Book Online Page A

coffee.
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Do me a favor and don’t let him in the house.”
    I stopped rummaging in the crisper and turned to look at her.
    “You all break up?”
    “Jesus, Lynn.”
    “Well, then, how come?”
    “I’d just prefer him to stay out of the house when I’m not around.”
    “What? He steal something?”
    Mom ignored this.
    “You sure you all ain’t breaking up?” I couldn’t help but smile.
    She pushed herself off the couch with a groan, picked up her purse, and stretched both arms above her head. “He’s just going through a spell.” She inspected her reflection in one of the glass doors of the china hutch, making a face like she was intent on scaring something inside there. The gravy boat, maybe. She wiped away a smudge of stray lipstick from a front tooth with her thumb.
    “I think he’s taking them dog pills himself,” I said. “Cross my heart, I could of sworn I saw fresh fur growing on the back of his neck the other day.”
    She gave me a look and picked up her quilted cigarette bag. “Just don’t let him in, alright? You think you can handle that?”
    “When are you going to be home again?”
    She opened the kitchen door and stepped out. “I have no idea, honey. Delia had to go to Brunswick for her uncle’s funeral and I’m covering her shift.”
    “There’s nothing to eat here.”
    “In the coffee can on top of the fridge, there’s some money. Use that to buy a frozen burrito or something at the Texaco station.”
    I pulled it down and popped the plastic top off. “There’s only a handful of change in here.”
    “Lynn, please.” She made her
bad teenager, heel
expression. Then she shut the door and was off.

Phony
    I let it ring three times before I picked it up.
    “Hey,” a man said. It was a voice I didn’t recognize, so I waited for him to say something else before I answered him. “Hello.” The pitch of his voice went up a little on the
o
. “Somebody there?” The man spoke in a gruff, southern accent, definitely a Wiregrass accent, so I thought he might be someone my mom knew.
    “Hey,” I said.
    “Hayes there?”
    “What?” I said.
    “Hayes. I’m looking for Hayes. He there?”
    “No, sir.”
    “You know when he’ll be back?” The man coughed. It was a cough that sounded about twenty thousand cigarettes deep. “Ma’am?” he added after a cautious pause.
    “He doesn’t live here, sir.”
    “That don’t matter. He’s over there a lot, ain’t he?”
    “Sometimes.” I let out a breath, wondering if I’d made a mistake admitting this. “I don’t understand what you want.” I forced myself to leave off the
sir
at the end.
    “How about,” he said, “you just give me the address where you are.”
    “If you’re looking for him, why don’t you go to his house? That’s usually what people do when they’re trying to find somebody. Not call a stranger’s house asking after street addresses they have no business with.”
    This made him laugh until he coughed again, and then he coughed until he brought up something he felt the need to hawk and spit. The thick, wet sound of it came out of his mouth and through the phone lines. Then he hung up.

Doing It
    “I think I’m ready to have sex,” Dani told me.
    “With who?”
    “I don’t mean I have someone picked out. I just feel like I’m ready now. I’m old enough. I might even need it.” She went over to her bed and lay on her back. Her hair spilled onto the quilt like a black puddle of oil and she stretched out her arms and sighed.
    “How do you know?”
    She closed her eyes and kicked her legs up in the air, pumping them like she was riding an invisible bike. The springs in the mattress made a soft ping sound each time she kicked out a foot. “I can feel it.”
    “In your head?” I got up and sat beside her on the bed. Her pedaling made me bounce.
    “No, of course not. I feel it right there.” She stopped her imaginary bike race and pointed to a spot right above her belly