1 Straight to Hell (22 page)

“But you left him anyway.”  My mother and I had been getting on so well, but that comment dredged up a memory from those awful months after she’d taken off.  Although I was too young to remember much, I did recall standing outside my dad’s bedroom door, sucking my thumb, clutching a teddy bear, and listening to him cry.  “You broke his heart.”

“It hurt me, too.  Much more than you can imagine.  But you’ve met Helen, and you know what she thinks about love.”  My mother looked up at me.  “It’s a weakness she’ll use against you, Lil.  Every time.”

The tortured moon gave enough light for me to see how old and frail my mother was.  And, most startlingly, how sad.  For no matter how brief and infrequent my mother’s visits had been, I had never seen her unhappy.  Not until now.

“I want to give you some advice,” my mother said.  “I know this is going to be very hard for you because it nearly killed me.”

I tensed.  “You want me to give up Grace don’t you?  That’s what all of this is about.”

“Not want.  I could never want that for my granddaughter.”  My mother tightened her grip on my arm and stopped walking.  “But you must.  There’s no other way.  Helen’s right.  You can’t be a succubus and a mother, too.”

I started to argue, but she hushed me.  “Believe me, Lilly, I tried.  I really did.  But it didn’t work.  It couldn’t work.  You probably don’t remember when you and I used to live together, but there were times, as young as you were, that I had to leave you alone to fend for yourself.  One time, you had turned on the stove.  I don’t know how you managed it since you weren’t even walking at the time, but you did.  And another time, I left you sleeping in your crib, but came home to find that you’d climbed out and hit your head.  You were lying on the floor, screaming.”

Nothing could have shocked me more.  I’d always believed Carrie to be the most carefree, reckless woman on the planet, and now I was finding out that she’d done the only responsible thing she could: she had turned me over to Simon and run away.  Just to keep me safe.

“So you did want me after all?”

“Want you?  Dear gods, girl, I would have moved heaven and earth to keep you to myself.”  She hugged me much tighter than I would have thought possible for such a small woman.

“Now, I can’t make you do anything,” my mother said.  “But I can at least try to talk sense into you.  Don’t be selfish, Lilith.  Do what’s in Grace’s best interest.  If you love that little girl, then find a safe place for her and go about your business.”

So it was either hand Grace over to Ted or risk leaving her over and over again so I could continue working as a seducing demon.  The choice should have been obvious, but even so, I could never,
ever
, give up my daughter.  “I can’t!”  The words came out punctuated with a  sob.  “You may be right, but I can’t.”

My mother patted my arm.  I thought she’d be angry, but she looked proud.

“It’s time that I leave,” Carrie said.  “Adventures await!”

It was exactly what she used to say every time we met when I was a kid.  Back then, of course, I didn’t understand it.  Now I did.  Only too well.  “No!”

Carrie gently removed my arm.  “I’m sorry, but it’s time for me to move on.”

“Where?  To Hell?”  The idea of it made me tremble.

My mother squeezed my hand.  “I’m not sure, actually.  But I imagine that it’s someplace where even Miss Spry can’t reach me.”

I could sense the inevitability of her good-bye, so I bent over and hugged her tightly.

“Tell Simon I love him.  I don’t think I ever thanked him for what he did for us.”  She pinched my cheek. “And enjoy William, but do be careful around him.  That boy’s a pill.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Maybe.  Once you die, perhaps.  Who’s to know for sure.”

She slipped from my arms like smoke, leaving me hugging nothing but air.  “Bye, Mom,” I whispered.

When I looked up, I saw that I was standing across the street from my townhouse.  To my shame, my Christmas wreath still hung on the door nearly two months after the holiday had passed.  And to think I used to complain to the homeowner’s association about people like me.

Now that my mother was gone, I noticed the biting cold.  Shivering, I ran across the street, up the steps and into the living room.

Like I promised my mother, I thought about giving Ted custody of Grace.  For five whole minutes.

I pictured my daughter living with her dad where she’d have her own room in a nice house.  Then I thought of her attending the private school she loathed.  And being shuttled from one afterschool activity to another by her overbearing Grandma Adelaide who would spend each car ride lecturing my daughter on why a  B+ in math instead of an A was substandard.  And why playing second-string lacrosse instead of first meant Grace wasn’t trying hard enough.  Adelaide would top off her lecture by telling Grace that she was fat.  Later, Ted would decided that a raw diet was the only way to improve Grace’s mental and physical defects, so my poor baby would be forced to eat carrot/wheat germ/raw egg smoothies for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Over my dead body.

I didn’t care what Miss Spry or even my mother said.  I could be a mother and a succubus.  I just needed to get organized and set some rules for myself.

So, I did what I do best in times of stress.  I made a list.

Things I Will Not Let My Demon Do

My demon cannot…

1. Seduce free food from the grocery store clerks.

2. Tell my landlord his toupee is sexy so that I don’t have to pay rent.

3. Force Jasmine to get a job.

4. Tempt Ted into shaving his head bald.

5. Make Ari tell me where she gets her cigarettes.

6. Charm my way to the front of the line at the secretary of state’s office.

7. Use its allure to get me a free mani/pedi.

I chewed on my pencil as I regarded my list, then erased numbers four and six.  There was no point in going overboard, after all.  Then I made another list.

Things I
Will
Let My Demon Do

My demon can…

1. Follow Miss Spry’s orders no matter what.

2. Drive William crazy with lust so that I can call him
my
plaything.

3. Protect my family.  And Tommy.

4. Terrorize my neighbors when they turn up their music too loud on a Wednesday night.

These were good rules.  Now all I had to do was follow them.  I could do this, no problem.

I continued to chew the pencil.

No problem.

Two weeks later, I received a call from Grace and Ari’s school, but instead of telling me that Ariel had been caught tossing spit wads into the cafeteria’s mac and cheese or tying up the first graders with their own jump ropes, the principal offered me a long-term subbing position.

“One of our first grade teachers is taking an early maternity leave,” Alan said.  “Most likely, she’ll be out until the end of the school year.  Are you interested?”

Was I interested?  Because I was determined to stick to my list, I hadn’t allowed my demon to pay my bills.  The insurance company
still
hadn’t paid off on my policy, and despite what Tommy was contributing, I was broke and had been living off credit cards.  I’d long ago started screening my phone calls because I hated getting harassed by creditors.  In fact, I was so desperate that, the day before, I’d stolen two dozen tampons from a public restroom with a broken dispenser.  Yes, I was interested.

The next morning, as I scrambled to find a pair of unwrinkled pants, Grace came into my room.  “There’s nothing to eat for breakfast.”  I vaguely remembered her saying the same thing the previous day.  And, at dinner time, I seemed to recall that she’d made herself a ketchup sandwich

“There must be something,” I said.  As I fastened my pants, the button popped off and rolled under the bed.  Cursing, I chased after it.  “Be creative.  Eat some salsa and chips.  Or a salad.”

“The lettuce is slimy,” she whined.  “And we’re out of salsa.”

Unable to find the button, I rooted in my dresser drawer for a safety pin.  “Well, there has to be
something
.”

 “Well, there isn’t.”  This was from Ariel who had joined the conversation.  She narrowed her eyes. “The milk is sour and there’s no cereal.”

Grace folded her arms over her chest.  “Dad always has food at his house.”

After the divorce, I promised myself that no matter how much of a prick Ted was, I’d never speak ill of him in front of our daughter.  But right then, it was all I could do to walk out of the room and keep my mouth shut.

Thinking both girls were exaggerating, I checked the fridge and cupboard, and – I’m quite ashamed to admit – found nothing.  Not nothing as in “there’s nothing I feel like eating.”  No, this was nothing as in, “someone call social services because these kids have no food”.  It was a splash of cold water in the face, a wake-up call that alerted me to other realities: the piles of mail and old newspapers that covered the kitchen table, the overflowing trash can, the sink full of dirty dishes, the gut-clenching stench of Drinking Tea’s litter box.

The girls were like street urchins from a modern-day Dickens’ story.  Grace had dressed herself in a rumpled t-shirt so short that it barely covered her belly and flip-flops, despite the fact it had snowed the night before.  Ari, her nose still bandaged and her eyes still dark with bruises, looked like a survivor from a natural disaster.

With a shock I realized that I’d been so focused on the otherworld, that I’d neglected the real one, and problems had slipped in like a cockroach infestation.  Now, I looked around the kitchen with a growing sense of horror.  I realized that, as a teacher, I’d be obligated by law to report a parent whose situation resembled mine.

Both girls were looking at me expectantly.  “Well,” Ariel said.

“Okay, we’ll stop by the ATM and the bagel shop on the way to school,” I said.  This pleased both girls who tumbled into the car, but when I drove up to the automatic teller and inserted my bank card, the machine spat it back out.

In the back seat, Grace rolled down her window and read the screen.  “What’s influent  funds?”

“It’s ‘insufficient’, Stupid, and it means she’s broke,” Ariel said.

“I’m not broke,” I said firmly, but inside I was scrambling to remember when I’d last balanced my account.

“But I need something to eat,” Grace said.

Stepping on the gas harder than necessary, I pulled out of the bank’s parking lot.  “Don’t worry,” I told her.

Thank God for ashtrays.  The one in my car had collected enough spare change to pay for a bagel for each girl.  Dinner, of course, would be another challenge, but I refused to think about that now.

I don’t often sub for first grade teachers, and whenever I do, I swear that it will never happen again.  To be sure, the kids are very cute.  For the first ten minutes.  But from then on, it’s like herding cats.  Mrs. Miller’s class was no exception.  In fact, it was a little worse than usual which is why I suspected she decided to take maternity leave early.  Five months early.