Tangled Up in Daydreams (24 page)

“When the time is right, you won't even think about it.”

“Maybe.”

There was a long silence after the pleasantries. Molly didn't know what else to say.

“So, I have to be honest, but I don't really know …”

“It's okay, Molly. All of us are a bit out of it lately.” Trying to be supportive. “I keep wishing things were different. That I had done things differently.”

“Me too.” Choking up a little.

“Listen, Liam will be away for a few more weeks and then I guess the rest is up to him. I haven't been able to really talk to him, but when we rode up there together, he felt very clear and ready. I think he's going to pull through this.”

“I'm sorry I had to leave.” Choking even more. “I just had to. When I saw him in the hospital that night, I freaked.”

“I know. I did too. It's not the place you ever want to see anyone you love. Complete bad dream.”

“I know.” Swallowing again. “I'm really scared, Elizabeth.”

“So am I, honey. It's all pretty overwhelming. All I know is that I love him and all I can do is be there for him and hope he figures it out.”

“I love him too, but it's just not that simple for me. There's been a lot to deal with. And now I know my parents are freaking out too. They are trying to be mature and calm and careful, but I can see it in their eyes that all this overwhelms them and scares them.”

“I can understand that. Should I talk to them?”

“I don't know. Maybe later. I really just want to figure this out on my own.”

“Molly, I want you to know that I know all about the car and all the other—how shall we say—incidents. He told me everything when I helped him pack for the center. He went on and on about how he is amazed that you have had this much patience.”

“Me too.”

“Sometimes I think he does all this crap to you, to me, to himself, on purpose,” Elizabeth mused.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know that Liam's father split when he was five, and I think that in a lot of ways he has stayed that five-year-old boy inside. Stayed that small child who watched someone he loved more than pizza and comic books and sunny days just leave him. No matter how much I loved him and tried to prove to him that I was never going to leave, there has to be something in him that thinks when he loves something too much, it will up and leave one day.”

“So he does everything possible to screw up and push away as a preventative measure?”

“Something like that. If he has an excuse like being too drunk or drugged up and you leave, then he has something to blame for it. It could then make sense unlike when his father left.”

“But that makes no sense, Elizabeth. I don't want to hurt him, leave him. I love him.”

“I know. Maybe he will figure all this out once he gets his head clear.”

“Sometimes I think it is too late for us, but then I can't imagine anything without him. It's not like I'm so perfect myself, and maybe I am being too hard on him. I think there is also a part of me that subconsciously wants him to be fucked up.”

“That, I don't understand.”

“Like, maybe there's something in me that stays and allows all of this horrible behavior because it makes me look so together in comparison. Maybe I want him to mess up and come with his tail between his legs so I can stand on my pulpit and scold him and be right. Maybe it's my fault.”

“Molly, it's no one's fault. And, yeah, maybe we all like to have poor little Liam, who is so blessed but can't seem to stay on the straight and narrow, be our fool, make us look better, but I think it's because we are used to it and we are scared to reevaluate our relationships. We're scared at what's to come.”

“Maybe he won't love me if he's better,” Molly said softly. “Maybe he'll see everything I hide beneath his addictions.”

“Molly, I think he will only love you better.”

“I just don't know what to do. I feel like I am in that Who song.”

“ ‘Should I stay or should I go'? I think that was one of the first songs Liam learned to play,” Elizabeth noted. “Everytime I hear it now, I cringe remembering how many times I had to listen to him.”

“It does get a little grating.”

“I do remember at the time being glad it wasn't ‘Stairway to Heaven.'”

“Why is that the first song so many kids learn to play?”

“No idea.” Laughing a bit. “Listen, Molly, whether or not you guys make it, I know my son loves you, I love you, and you have been a wonderful influence on him.”

“Yeah, right! He almost dies under my loving eye and you think I am a good influence!”

“You are. You are loving and thoughtful. Every anecdote he shares of the two of you tells me how true-blue you are. He's getting help because of you. Wanting to save what you two have. That's what is important. Imagine where he might be now if you hadn't eventually tried to change things?”

“Elizabeth, I have to go.” Cutting her off. “But, I guess, fill me in?”

“I will. I really do think that he is going to be fine and pull through this. You know him, and once he sets his mind to something there is no stopping him. Take care of yourself, Molly.”

“I will. 'Bye.”

“Oh, wait, I forgot that I put something in the mail for you. You should get it soon. And, by the way, I loved those superhero dolls you had made for Liam. What a great idea.”

“He showed you those? They are so silly.”

“He brought them with him. Said something about them being his security blanket.”

“Oh.” Choking up slightly.

“Molly?”

“I'm fine, I'll look out for the package. 'Bye, Elizabeth. Thanks.” Hanging up before she heard her good-bye.”

Molly held the phone in her hand for a long time. The weight somehow was comforting. How can something made of plastic and wires relay every piece of news in the world? Each human emotion transferred to sound bites passed back and forth along a phone line. Imagine the days before Alexander Graham Bell. Urgent messages sent on the back of galloping horses. Was life then less insistent? Did it demand less because the speed of information was slower? Were horror stories or tales of good news duller since they had time to settle and cool before being shared? Were senses less acute without the constant bombardment of information? Sometimes Molly wanted to shut her eyes and stuff cotton in her ears just to keep the world a hand's distance away.

She felt uneasy. How could she have opened up so much to Elizabeth when she could only speak in fragments to her family? It seemed all mixed up. Should she have been so intimate, so fragile in talking to someone who could easily disappear if Liam did? Molly did feel lighter after allowing herself to free some of her thoughts, but she also felt more tender for letting them resurface so fiercely. It wasn't as if she had consciously picked Liam's mom to be her sounding board, it had just happened like a sudden leak in her resolve to process most of this on her own. Maybe she was using Elizabeth as a substitute for whom she really wanted to talk to, maybe it was time to let things out.

Molly also felt a deeper sadness when she hung up the phone with Elizabeth. One born in postcard memories of holidays, birthdays, and vacations spent becoming a new family. Elizabeth and Liam had all become part of her, part of her history. Their lives were inextricably woven together into a delicate pattern of love and loss. The dolls. He had brought the dolls with him. That touched Molly. She pictured them sitting on a tiny desk, in a tiny room, with Liam curled into an even tinier bed. Super Liam and Super Molly were watching over him as he slept and dreamed and craved.

Jay had found on the Internet a toy site that would fashion your own action figure. You could send the company pictures and details of what body, what hair color, and what outfit you wanted the doll dressed in. The company would then produce the toy and it would look exactly like the photos and specifications. Liam's birthday was a month or so away and Molly could not think of anything better for a comic-collecting, video-game loving,
Star Wars
accessorizing guy than a plastic doll emblazoned with his very own visage. Molly searched through various pictures one night long after Liam had fallen asleep. She collected a few of both of them from all angles and sent them in along with a copy of an “Archie” comic book. As much as Liam dug the more action-packed storyboards from the “X-Men” and “Spawn,” Molly knew that the first comic he had ever collected was “Archie,” and Liam, unlike most, fell in love with idiosyncratic Jughead. He had Jughead sheets and even a lunch box. She was certain that he would love his face atop Jughead's gangly body, his head adorned with Jughead's pointy little cap. Molly would have herself transformed into Ethel and they would be a perfect pair.

Liam's birthday arrived and the two of them spent the whole day together. Breakfast in bed, having sex, laughing, shopping for dinner. That night Molly invited all of Liam's close friends—Elliot and his girlfriend, Maggie; Tom, Liam's drummer; and the other members of his band—to an intimate dinner party. Liam hadn't wanted a big shindig, thirty-one was not such an exciting age, so Molly thought this little party would be an ideal celebration. He helped her cook all afternoon, and they spent the time perpetually spinning in the bouncy chorus of their own infectious pop song. Love was in the air. The guests arrived, wine was drunk, food consumed, and all were satisfied. After Molly brought out the enormous chocolate-chocolate cake she baked from one of her father's recipes, Liam blew out the candles, plates were passed, cake was eagerly eaten, and Molly decided it was time for gifts.

“Okay, birthday boy, time for presents.” Getting up from the couch. “It looks like you scored.”

“Guys, you shouldn't have.”

“Whatever, birthday's are no good without a little gift-giving.” Elliot, answering. “Besides, you haven't opened them yet.”

“So you're saying that your gift is going to suck?” Winking at his friend.

“You never know. Maggie picked it out.” Squeezing his girlfriend's hand.

“Thanks a lot.” She laughed.

“I'm sure I will love it, Maggie.” Opening the small tie-shaped box. Inside were two tickets to the Hollywood Bowl for Celia Cruz. “These are fantastic!” Getting up and kissing her on the cheek. “Thank you so much.”

“Hey, what about me?” Elliot piped in.

“You said she picked them out.”

“Yeah, but I wrapped them.”

“Well then, thank you too.” Giving his friend a pat on the back.

“Here, this is from all of us.” Tom pushed toward Liam a very large, heavy, newspaper-wrapped box.

Liam ripped open the box and inside was a very old record player that had been reconditioned and now gleamed like a shiny penny.

“Wow. Where did you guys find this?”

“Some weird little music store on Sunset by the guitar center. The guy redid everything and it should run perfectly.”

“I love it. Let's try it out.”

Liam set the player down on the floor by their bookcase of records and picked from the stacks. Soon Bob Dylan filtered into the room.

“Sounds good.” Liam smiled.

“He's going to be in front of that for the rest of the night.” Molly laughed. “Baby, before you get sucked in, you have to open up my gift.”

“There's more?”

“Yup, here.” Handing him the balloon-printed bag.

Liam got up and sat back down on the couch next to Molly. He unwrapped the tissue paper.

“What are these?” Looking at the dolls.

“Look closely.”

Liam held Jughead in his hand and rolled him around. He focused on the face and the hair.

“You have got to be kidding.” Starting to smile. “Is this me?”

Molly nodded as Liam picked up the second figure and looked at the doll's face.

“No way!” Holding them up. “These are us!”

“Now you have your very own action figure.”

“Molly, this is beyond cool.” Kissing her. “Jughead?”

“Of course.”

“You are so amazing for doing this and remembering.”

“My pleasure.”

Liam's eyes gleamed like a six-year-old high on too much sugar.

“Let me see,” Elliot requested, and Liam handed him the dolls. “Molly, how did you get these made? I have never seen a personalized action figure before.”

“There's this website that will make whatever you want. They do the mold from photos.”

“They really look like you two.”

“I know, it's a little creepy. I didn't think they would come out so well.”

“What range of motion do you think they have?” Elliot asked as he bent the two together into a Spice Channel pose.

“Dude!” Liam grabbed the dolls away and unbent them. “Jughead and Ethel would never do it from behind.”