The Interruption of Everything by Terry McMillan Read Free Book Online

them might participate in the festivities by slowly sliding and slithering themselves all over me so that I get moist all right, damn near liquid, and afterward, Leon once again thinks he’s been magnificent when in fact he’s had quite a bit of help.
    Temper Changes? While driving I tend to scream at people, especially on the 680 South and it’s probably a good thing I don’t own a gun because if I did, over the past year, I probably would’ve used it. I am not a violent person and I’m afraid of guns so I know something’s going on. Things that used to not even faze me now get on what’s left of my nerves: waiting in any line for anything longer than thirty seconds; the blond woman on Entertainment Tonight who smiles incessantly; boring people who think they’re interesting; sidewalks that end for no reason; cell phones ringing in public places and everybody reaching in their purse thinking it’s theirs; children in cars with a parent smoking and those with no seat belts on but Mom is strapped in. And just because I know there are still more questions ahead, Arthurine’s dingy-white toy poodle—Snuffy—(who should probably be dipping it), who’s deaf, has arthritis, low thyroid and is too fat to walk up the stairs. Sometimes I have to carry him for her and he stinks because he has a hard time going not to mention giving him an arsenal of pills twice a day. Okay, STOP IT , Marilyn, RIGHT NOW ! Move on!
    Do you know at what age your mother went through menopause? No. And what difference does it make? As soon as I hear myself think this, I realize how stupid it sounds even in my head.
    “Excuse me,” I say to the receptionist. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”
    “Nancy. All finished?”
    “Almost. Nancy, I was wondering if I have five more minutes of waiting, and if so, I can call my mother to get the answer to this one question…”
    “Dr. Hilton has had an unexpected emergency, but she’ll be back in the office in about twenty minutes, Mrs. Grimes. So take your time.”
    I look at my watch. It’s now 3:05. It’s my day off. But I left clothes in the dryer that I could’ve folded and another load of whites soaking. I could’ve set the rhinestones on the lampshade I was making. I take my cell phone out into the hallway and then down the stairwell until I’m outside where I bump into a lemon tree but am able to get service. I dial Lovey’s number—which is what she’s always preferred to be called rather than Mama. When she answers, her voice is barely audible. “Lovey?”
    “Yes, this is me. Who is this?”
    At first I think she’s kidding.
    “Who does it sound like?”
    “I ain’t got time for games, so spit it out before I hang up this phone.”
    “It’s me, Marilyn, Lovey.”
    “Then why didn’t you say so? What can I do for you?”
    “I’m at my doctor’s office and she wants to know how old you were when you went through the Change.”
    “That’s a very personal subject, Marilyn, and a very private matter and like I said, it’s personal and private.”
    “Lovey, why are you whispering? Who’s there?”
    “Nobody but me and your daddy.”
    “What did you say?”
    “I’m just feeling Herman deep in my heart today, that’s all. What time is it there?”
    “It’s three o’clock in Oakland, Lovey. The same time it is right there in Fresno—two hundred whole miles from here. Lovey, is something wrong? Are you feeling depressed?”
    “No no no. I just can’t see the clock from where I’m sitting.” Herman was my daddy. He’s supposedly dead. I don’t remember what he looks like. Lovey tore up all his pictures. Don’t remember the sound of his voice. Just that I supposedly look like a female version of him. Word on the street was that he left Fresno city limits driving south on Highway 99 heading for Vegas on the Fourth of July, 1960, to find some woman named Petralee whom he’d met at—and apparently fell head over heels in love with while stumbling in and out