Dead Stars (18 page)

Snubbing the elevator, the littlest breast kancer hervivor who could flew down all five flights, bursting out of the lobby into the wild freedom/explosive normalcy of the deep blue day.

CLEAN

[Rikki]

Zen and the Art of Go Fuck Yourself

Dawn,

Rikki's foster, the woman he started calling Mom just 2 wee into his placement—Dawn, soon to become his legal mother, her husband Jim his legal dad, both having agreed to the sacred, irrevocable process of adoption—hadn't left her room in almost 5 days. Rikki practically wanted to die. He had heartache-headaches & even stopped watching porn. He never thought she would take the news of ReeRee's pregnancy so hard.

Jim, sitting in the darkened living room, TV on low. Shows about houses: redoing houses, buying houses, flipping houses, razing houses. Dance show and singing show competitions. All America was singing and dancing and competing. All America was famous and winning, and if they weren't, they were famously failing, all America was looking for someplace to compete and to win and be famous, or famously fail. There were only two groups left in AmericaWorld: the billionaires and the singing show contestants. Jim, laughing at Geico commercials in spite of himself. Jim, laughing at his favorite show,
Family Guy
. Jim even hauling out the old DVDs of his 2nd favorite show,
Sealab 2021
, but not laughing, busy now listening through walls—you could be anywhere in the house and hear it—listening morosely to his wife/fits and starts/cries and moans. Rikki knew where it was heading: soon, he'd be disadopted. (First maladapted then disadopted.) All he wanted was to make it easier on these people, these beautiful people Dawn & Jim, who only happened to fucking be the only ones who ever treated him like a motherfucking human being, the only ones who ever loved him, ever
risked
loving him.

The only ones he ever loved back.

“Dad.”

“Come in, Rikki. Come sit.”

“How's Dawn.”

“Been better.” (
Soft fatherly smile of understanding
)

“Dad. I'm sorry . . . about—things.”

(
As if he hadn't heard
) “Rikki, I've been wanting to talk to you. You're going through a lot & I feel somewhat guilty that I haven't been able to devote much energy to what's going on in your life. Because I know there's a
lot
going on, big, big stuff. But I want you to know that's not for a lack of concern. Dawn's having a rough patch (as you well by now know) & I've got to see her thru.”

“If you guys don't want to adopt me, that's cool. I don't want you to stress.”

“You're saying this because of Reeyonna? The pregnancy?”

“I didn't mean to hurt Mom. It really hurts me to give her pain.”

“O. I see. You think she's having trouble because of that.”

(
Sweet suite of fatherly smiles
)

“What can I do to make her stop crying? Should I go talk to her? Will she talk to me? Dad—should I move away? I'll move away, with Reeyonna. Would it be better if I moved away?”

Jim sighs. Then: “Dawn's in some trouble, but it's nothing to do with the pregnancy.” (
Rikki subtly reacts, unprepared for the remark
) “What happened was, she applied for a job up in San Francisco. Not a job, really—a ‘position.' In the field that was—is—her calling. The position requires training, & you can take a course up there in the Bay Area. It's a Buddhist orientation, which is perfect for Dawn because she's been a meditator for years, as you are probably aware of. (
Of course he was. That was just Jim's conversational way.
) And she's just, well, your mother's
very
much up to speed on proper breathing—‘yogic' breathing—she's done the ‘Art of Living' workshops over at the big church. She's an inveterate fan of the Dalai Lama, & Thich Nhat Hanh, & Pema Chödrön, all those people. The Levines—they're that couple, Buddhist couple, who are both—who both happen to be dying. They live in New Mexico I believe. And the fellow who had a stroke, in Hawaii . . . the Leary fellow, he was with Leary—Ram Dass.
Be Here Now.
Terrific book.

“So I would say that your mother is more than a
neophyte
.

“The course takes 9 months, it's very comprehensive. Now, you know Dawnie's been depressed since she stopped teaching. That's not a secret. You can't live in this house & not know that. She's had troubles on & off all her life with depression. Rikki, it's a disease. And I think that taking this course, this going-back-to-school, but this time as a
student,
really lifted her out of the gloom. The gloom & doom. She
probably
needs to change her medication, up it a little, I'm getting into that. But this place—up north—is a Buddhist operation, the people who run it are all Buddhists. Dawnie printed out the application from their website and went through it
very
thoroughly. They asked her—they asked
everyone
who applied—to write an essay—we
both
had the impression it wasn't, the essay wasn't, it wasn't an
audition
for the course. Not strictly speaking. They just asked that you write a personal essay conveying why you wanted to take the course & do the work, what you expected to get out of it, that sort of thing. They wanted to know a little what you imagined your plans were for the future, in the sense of utilizing whatever you learned with them. But not in any serious detail. I think it was more about hearing you explain your passion.
That's
what they wanted to hear. Maybe a little about your experience too, in life. With the ‘great mystery.' Because you may not know this but Dawnie's had a lot of death in her life. Her mom at an early age, her brother—a drunk took him out—her dad, just a few years ago. She had a little sister who died at five months. Dawnie was 4. She'll never talk about it, but believe me, she remembers it
vividly
.

“Dawnie was
very
excited about it; the course is only a few months away. That's what our trip was about last month—looking for an apartment close to the Zen Center, a single. Dawnie called it her ‘room with a view.'
A room of one's own.
It's a long time since she felt her independence, that sense of herself as a unique & separate individual on the planet, someone worthy and productive, a
woman
not just a wife, mom, teacher, or whatever the world chooses to describe her. She showed me the essay she wrote for those people, & Rikki, I tell you it was
really something
. Really something. One day, I'll ask her to show it to you.
Spectacular
piece of writing. I didn't think she was capable of that—no, that sounds wrong, that's not exactly what I meant. I knew she was capable, let's just say I didn't think she had the
tools
. Rikki? I was completely floored by it.

“Long story short, Dawnie didn't get in. I don't think they really even considered her. They wrote her a letter saying they were sorry but the course was only open to
professionals
at this time
.
We were floored. I asked her if she wanted me to call, you know, speak to someone at the Center, to push a little and find out what the hell was going on, but she was adamantly against it. So, it completely—her plans were completely thwarted and I think there was some embarrassment too because she was so confident, and told some friends as well. Where she was going, & how long she would be away. The whole idea of going up there to be engaged in that kind of work touched her soul . . . I looked at the ad, the one clipped from the magazine, Buddhist magazine, looked at it
very carefully
, & to be honest, I still think it can be read either way. In other words, there aren't any flashing lights that say CIVILIANS NEED NOT APPLY. I think someone in their outfit needs to take a closer look at
wording
, at how things are
worded.
Because I'm an engineer, I pay attention to that sort of thing. But evidently, we both misunderstood. Because I read the ad right along with her.

“That's what put her to bed. It has nothing to do with your situation with Reeyonna. In fact, Dawnie said something to me about it this morning. She hasn't talked much, but she was worried you'd think you weren't on her mind or that she wasn't going to offer any support or guidance. She wanted me to convey that. Because I know she
plans
to, soon as she pulls out of this little nosedive. This has happened a few times before. It's a lot of darkness, what the therapists call ‘family of origin' stuff. Early trauma, all that PTSD rigmarole. It's real, but I don't think knowing the reasons behind it helps.

“I'm not going to let her go on like this forever. If she doesn't improve by next week, I'll take her to see someone.”

Jim heard his wife crying & excused himself to go to her. He got as a far as the hallway then turned back to Rikki.

“I keep kicking myself. Wondering if it was a mistake to include the check—the tuition was $5,000 & I sent a check along with Dawnie's application. The check of course was returned. I keep second-guessing that maybe they thought that was arrogant or presumptuous. Sending along the check, like it was a fait accompli. But it was a completely innocent thing! We
both
were excited, I was excited
for
her. See, I thought it was essentially a done deal, we
both
did. But jeez, maybe someone thought it was a bribe! I need to stop kicking myself. Still, it's there. ‘If I hadn't sent the check, then she'd be in.' What they call magical thinking. Isn't that dumb?”

. . .

The selfish relief Rikki felt was quickly overtaken by apprehension about his fostermother's condition.

He went to his room and called Reeyonna because he'd been giving her updates & wanted to tell her it wasn't the baby thing that was freaking his mom, but something else.
I mean, she probably
is
flipped about the baby, but right now my dad said she's flipped she lost this job that she thought she was gunna get. Or this job she was
paying
for to get. She thought she got hired but she didn't. My dad was telling me.

Ree said she was almost ready to ask her mom for the trust money. He didn't say anything; that was her business. The whole reason
behind
her asking for the trust money made him overall nervous. Having a kid was huge enough, but now ReeRee was talking about moving out & getting a place of their own. They were going to buy a bungalow in Hollywood, depending on how much money she got from her mom. And if they didn't buy the
bungalow
, Ree said they'd rent a
duplex
, maybe over on Fairfax. He never had his own place like that, didn't know shit about it. When he pictured the new place, he saw himself sitting on the bare floors wondering who you even called to set up the wireless. And
plus
, he was going to be a father. It was all so huge & fucked up he couldn't even deal.

Rikki smoked & got his email. A friend sent a video of four guys in A&F/HOLLISTER hoodies banging this girl at school who never turned down a rape. They were all wearing Obama masks, it was kinda funny, kind of okay. He scanned the stickamgirls/facebookam/
Talk To A Stranger
sites where the screen's split into webcam twos: like, a girl would be in her bedroom on the top screen, watching the stranger in his bedroom on the bottom, & there'd be a scroll of whatever they were keyboarding each other usually just shit like
show it to me, you're so fuckin hot, show me your tits—
bullshit like that. For some reason the girls always showed their faces but the strangers typically made sure the webcam cut em off at the neck so that all you usually could see was their hands strobe-stroking their big dicks. The one he started to watch was funny because the girl's little sister burst into the room in the middle of it & saw what was going on and shouted “Perv!” at her sis then left, slamming the door. A 9-year old calling a 12 year-old a perv cracked him up.

Rikki got out the bong & settled in for some hardcore tubin' but suddenly got hungry. Went to the kitchen and made a bigass sandwich—double turkey, double roast beef, beaucoup Jarlsberg, lettuce & tomatoes & jalapeños & grey poupon. Big bag of honey mustard kettle chips. A water pitcher filled with crushed ice & coke zero. He tried picturing the kitchen as the one in the new bungalow/duplex, but it wasn't a nice fantasy, it made him bummed.

On his way out, he saw the letter on the breakfast table.

Back in his room, Rikki fell into his own kind of funk. He was even more guiltstricken now for laying the pregnancy trip on his fosterfolks. The timing was so shitty—right in the middle of his mom's depressathon. He'd always wanted to make them proud; now
this
was how he chose to repay their loyalty and commitment, their unconditional kindnesses. He wouldn't
let
them adopt him, he'd spare them of that additional hassle-y heartache.