Meanwhile, I took my pill and a leisurely shower. Then I read the latest translated volume of the Toilet-bound Hanako-Ku manga on the couch in the room, I had started to think of as ours over the last two months.
When Victor came back through to use the shower after his workout, I put my manga down and went downstairs to reheat the last of the Korean porridge I’d made Wednesday night on top of the stove. Sometimes I tried to squeeze some last-minute homework in during this part of the routine. But Jacoby had canceled the second half of our Monday, Wednesday, and Friday Thesis Production seminars for the rest of the semester so that we’d have more time to prepare our final projects. That meant I didn’t have anything to present or turn in today.
Maybe I’ll make us something special tonight, I decided as I added a packet of some protein powder Victor swore by into his bowl of porridge. I’d been cooking more healthy again now that I had a fitness nut living with me. But since I had a little extra time on my hands, maybe I could make a three-course meal, with soup and dessert.
Oooh… I excitedly began looking up ideas for three-course meals.
“What are you doing?” Victor asked when he came downstairs dressed in his usual suit. No tie today, though.
“You’ll see,” I sing-songed in answer to his question, delighted with my secret plan. But then I had to ask, “Can you make Wayne take me to the grocery store after school?”
I knew the day guard’s name now. Another benefit of this game of pretend. Victor had told me all about the grizzled day guard, including his history as a Red Diamond and his semi-retirement as my driver/guard. “I promise not to buy any alcohol, but I really want to shop for myself today.”
Victor considered the request, tilting his head slightly to the side. He seemed to be making a decision when he signed, “You can have alcohol if you want. I won’t stop you.”
Excitement bloomed inside of me at the thought of being able to drink for the first time in nine years.
But then I remembered the sight of my mother in that hospital bed. Of taking out the trash after dinner and finding the recycling filled with empty bottles—both the trashcan in the kitchen and the big blue one she kept outside for pickup. Of how she tried to day drink right before the surgery. Just like I used to before Victor cut me off.
More memories piled up on top of those. My mom had been a consummate mother in the afternoons and early evenings, but it had been on us to get ourselves to school every morning. She always slept in, even though she’d often disappear into her room soon after my father left for the night in Japan. I also recalled how my grandpa’s face had always been flushed red when we visited him in the evening. Of how he died of the same cancer that was now threatening my mother.
Now that Victor had offered to lift his alcohol ban, I sensed a ticking genetic bomb that I hadn’t before in my unspoken family history. And I found myself realizing out loud, “No, I think cutting alcohol might have been one of the best things that ever happened to me. I’m good with sparkling water, how about you?”
He considered my words for a thoughtful moment, then signed, “I think that is wise. And I’m good with water too.”
After that, we chatted about way more boring things. Like the weather, my school projects, and who each of us thought would win the latest season of American SuperStar, the singing competition I’d convinced him to watch with me a few times.
Eventually, we got to the part of our new routine where he drove me to school and dropped me off before he went wherever he went every day.
He was like my father in that regard. He never talked about his job. And I never asked. I guess I had more in common with my mom than I thought. Or maybe I just understood things now that I didn’t understand back then. It had felt safer to wonder when I was a teenager. Now I knew the consequences that too much curiosity could bring.
The day dragged by at school. I still loved studying the history and evolution of animation. But we were so close to presenting our thesis productions that class had begun to seem like a waste of time. Who wanted to discuss the merits of Cheburashka, this obscure animated Russian film from the 70s, when we all still had so much more work to do on our own films? You know, the ones that would decide our grades and score us jobs when our expensive education was done.
