Angela jumped; someone was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.
"Hey, Matthew." He stared at her. She felt very aware of her jet-lagged face and lank hair. She needed hairspray, a change of clothes, and sleep.
"What are you doing?" Angela lifted the untidy sheaf of papers in her hand.
"Some work I brought with me," she said. Matt considered the pages.
"What do you do for work?" Angela made herself keep her eyes on his face .
"I’m… a marine biologist. Studying how we can feed our growing population in the world sustainably. This—this is a report a colleague gave me about a new kind of crossbreed fish that seems to grow bigger faster." Matthew’s face didn’t betray anything, if he really thought that was a lie. If he really said those miserable things about her to his father. She hated the thought that Matt said those things about her.
"Cool. Do you want to watch a movie with us? There’s cake, ice cream." Angela wrestled with a reluctance she didn’t understand.
"Sure!" she said. "What’s the movie?"
"Hunchback of Notre Dame." Angela stared at the pages in her hands, and then at the boy waiting so hopefully at the door. She sighed.
"I’d like that. I’ll be a second, though. You can start the movie without me." Matt nodded and stepped back into the living room. Angela took her time packing up the papers and sorting herself out. Angela shoved the cardboard box back into the closet where she found it. She risked shutting the door to put on a change of sweatpants.
Despite her efforts, Joanne had the movie paused at the very beginning, and kept it there as Matt helped Angela with the cake and ice cream. When everyone was settled with their food, Joanne hit play. They watched a villain kick a woman down stone steps—or, as Joanne undoubtedly saw it, a mother suffering to be killed rather than have her child taken away. Angela felt the other woman’s eyes on her face throughout the first part of the film, and she focused on her food. The boys made small talk. Angela did her best to respond, to assure them that she was enjoying herself, but Angela felt Joanne picking apart every response she gave.
"Do you have the boys’ birth certificates?" Joanne asked during a lull in the chatter.
"The city doesn’t have them?" Joanne shook her head.
"What city were they born in? It wasn’t Auburn, or Lewiston. We need the city so we can pull those records," she said. She stared at Angela, waiting for her to admit she was such a terrible parent that she didn’t know. Angela felt the kids’ eyes on her like a physical weight. She—remembered the sharp antiseptic sting in her nose. She remembered the bright lights, the pain, the recovery. She and Eric had talked about it all on the way home from the hospital, both times.
"Portland," she said. "Maine Medical." The boys fell to talking between themselves. Joanne’s gaze didn’t waver.
"You must still be so tired," she said. "Go rest." Angela hesitated, but Matt and Joe turned to give her radiant smiles. She had to smile back. If they were fine with Joanne, then she could rest. Angela turned to go. "And if you find birth certificates or social security cards," Joanne added, "Let me know."
Angela shut the door. She stared into space for a few moments before she fell upon the papers strewn across the bed. Why did Angela want to be here? She didn’t want to be here.
"Hey, Matthew." He stared at her. She felt very aware of her jet-lagged face and lank hair. She needed hairspray, a change of clothes, and sleep.
"What are you doing?" Angela lifted the untidy sheaf of papers in her hand.
"Some work I brought with me," she said. Matt considered the pages.
"What do you do for work?" Angela made herself keep her eyes on his face .
"I’m… a marine biologist. Studying how we can feed our growing population in the world sustainably. This—this is a report a colleague gave me about a new kind of crossbreed fish that seems to grow bigger faster." Matthew’s face didn’t betray anything, if he really thought that was a lie. If he really said those miserable things about her to his father. She hated the thought that Matt said those things about her.
"Cool. Do you want to watch a movie with us? There’s cake, ice cream." Angela wrestled with a reluctance she didn’t understand.
"Sure!" she said. "What’s the movie?"
"Hunchback of Notre Dame." Angela stared at the pages in her hands, and then at the boy waiting so hopefully at the door. She sighed.
"I’d like that. I’ll be a second, though. You can start the movie without me." Matt nodded and stepped back into the living room. Angela took her time packing up the papers and sorting herself out. Angela shoved the cardboard box back into the closet where she found it. She risked shutting the door to put on a change of sweatpants.
Despite her efforts, Joanne had the movie paused at the very beginning, and kept it there as Matt helped Angela with the cake and ice cream. When everyone was settled with their food, Joanne hit play. They watched a villain kick a woman down stone steps—or, as Joanne undoubtedly saw it, a mother suffering to be killed rather than have her child taken away. Angela felt the other woman’s eyes on her face throughout the first part of the film, and she focused on her food. The boys made small talk. Angela did her best to respond, to assure them that she was enjoying herself, but Angela felt Joanne picking apart every response she gave.
"Do you have the boys’ birth certificates?" Joanne asked during a lull in the chatter.
"The city doesn’t have them?" Joanne shook her head.
"What city were they born in? It wasn’t Auburn, or Lewiston. We need the city so we can pull those records," she said. She stared at Angela, waiting for her to admit she was such a terrible parent that she didn’t know. Angela felt the kids’ eyes on her like a physical weight. She—remembered the sharp antiseptic sting in her nose. She remembered the bright lights, the pain, the recovery. She and Eric had talked about it all on the way home from the hospital, both times.
"Portland," she said. "Maine Medical." The boys fell to talking between themselves. Joanne’s gaze didn’t waver.
"You must still be so tired," she said. "Go rest." Angela hesitated, but Matt and Joe turned to give her radiant smiles. She had to smile back. If they were fine with Joanne, then she could rest. Angela turned to go. "And if you find birth certificates or social security cards," Joanne added, "Let me know."
Angela shut the door. She stared into space for a few moments before she fell upon the papers strewn across the bed. Why did Angela want to be here? She didn’t want to be here.
Strange, isn't it, that no documents exist for the birth of these children?
ReplyDeleteI love the title of this chapter, "Wields Disney as a Weapon." Perfect! I like Hunchback pretty well as a movie, but that scene gets me crying every time...