Everything Is Fine. by Ann Dee Ellis Read Free Book Online Page B

juice.
    “Does it work?” I asked. I don’t like Norma’s lawn chair because my butt was going through the plastic slats.
    “Umm, I don’t know.”
    “You haven’t tried it?”
    “Not yet. I don’t like how it smells. Plus I just buy the stuff; I don’t drink it.”
    I opened the lid and smelled it: barf.
    Then we ate Twinkies and I ate three almonds from a bowl she brought out.
    “Can I take this home?”
    “Of course you can,” she said, and handed me another Twinkie.
    T WINKIES AT SUNSET : oils on canvas

OLIVIA’S ALBUM
    So that night after two reruns, I put the juice in one of her yellow cups and take it with the sorbet and pills.
    I almost drop the tray when I get in there because she is sitting in the chair by the dresser looking at the album.
    “You’re up.”
    She turns a page and doesn’t look at me.
    It is Olivia’s album. The one she keeps under the bed. She’d gotten up and crawled under the bed.
    I hold my breath and she turns another page.
    Then I say again, “You’re up.” Another page.
    Her hair is matted against her head and she’d put on an Eeyore sweatshirt that I’d gotten from Disneyland when I went with
     Dad on a special broadcast.
    She didn’t like that sweatshirt.
    “Mom?”
    Still nothing, just another page.
    I step over a pile of pants and then some shoes and put the tray on her bed table.
    “Mom?”
    Nothing.
    I sit on the bed and watch her. Her face is so hard. So white and hard and skinny.
    I look at my hands and sit. And sit. I sit like that and she sits like that for over an hour. She starts the album over and
     over and I sit and sit.
    “Mom? Do you want your pills?”
    The sorbet is a puddle and I don’t know if the noni juice has to be cold.
    “Mom?”
    A while later I am lying on the bed.
    On my side watching her.
    Then on my back.
    On my side again.
    On my back.
    Page after page after page.
    I wake up the next morning and she is next to me — her knees in her chest and her breathing heavy.
    The sorbet puddle is still there but the pills and noni are gone.
    And one more thing; her hand is touching my hair.
DAD
    One week after the text message, Dad calls again.
    “I’m going to try to come home this weekend.”
    I’m melting eleven marshmallows because Lisa dropped some off.
    “Did you hear me, Maz?”
    The microwave beeps.
    “Am I on speakerphone?”
    I open it and the marshmallows aren’t done.
    “Maz.”
    I push .30 and start.
    “Maz . . . Maz, answer me.”
    I turn on the light and watch the marshmallows go around and around.
    “Mazzy, pick up the phone and talk to me right now.”
    The microwave beeps again but they still aren’t done. I check with a chopstick.
    “Mazeline, if you don’t pick up the phone right now . . .”
    I pick up the phone and say: “What?”
    “I’m going to try to come home this weekend so we can sort things out.”
    I don’t say anything.
    “I have had several long discussions with Mrs. Peet.”
    I bite my lip. I don’t know how to feel because I don’t want him to put her in a place.
    Everything is fine.
    We’re fine.
    I want to tell him that.
    But then I also want to tell him he can come home. He should come home. We need him.
    “Okay,” I finally say, and I take the marshmallows out anyway.
    He’s quiet for awhile and I stir the marshmallows.
    “Is everything okay?”
    “Yes.”
    “What are you doing?”
    “Making Peking duck for me and Mom.”
    “Peking duck this time, huh?”
    He sort of laughs.
    He says: “Getting a little fancy these days, eh?”
    “I’m serious, Dad. Mom said she wanted Peking duck so I’m making it.”
    He’s quiet.
    I eat some marshmallow but it’s too hot and I burn my tongue. I drop the phone and it hangs up.
DAD
    Dad and Mom used to dance.
    Late at night when we were supposed to be asleep.
    Mom would throw back her head and laugh and Dad would pick her up.
    “Stop it, Dave,” she’d say.
    “What?” And he twirled her around and around.
    “You’re going to hurt