Moondogs - Alexander Yates [148]
“Hey. Baby? Are you all right?” Joseph’s voice sounded drowsy on the other end and she realized she must have woken him up. But that was good news. It meant he was sleeping again.
“I’m fine, Joe,” she said. “I’m sorry to wake you. I love you.”
“I love you, too, darling. What’s going on?”
“I just … I wanted to tell you that I love you. And that I’m sorry. The last time we spoke I couldn’t bring myself …” She gripped the wheel with her free hand and turned it; first left, then right. The tires pivoted in the mud below her. “The last time we spoke you said sorry for leaving. You didn’t have to. It’s not like I gave you much of a choice, with how shitty I was acting. I think that was kind of the point for me. I think I wanted you to go.”
The line was quiet for a while. Her battery beeped at her. “I know,” he said. “Darling, you sound exhausted. We don’t have to talk about this now.”
“But we have to talk about it.”
“Later,” he said.
She heard him shifting; heard the light leafy sound of cotton on wool. He sat up. They were quiet together for a while.
“I know they’re still in bed … but could I talk to the kids?”
“Why the hell not?” There was a measure of delight in his voice. “Let me get them up.”
The mattress springs and then the floorboards creaked. Monique imagined herself tiny, carried in Joseph’s palm through the dawn-lit corridors of their distant townhouse. “Your mother.” His voice was almost indiscernible—he must have been holding the cordless at arm’s length. “Yes, now.”
“Mom?” It was Leila.
“Hi, baby. I’m sorry to wake you. I just wanted to say I love you.” She bit down on her words to keep them steady. “I love you.”
“Mom. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, baby. How are you doing?”
“I’m asleep, Mom.”
“I know. I’m not going to keep you. But you know that I love you, right?”
“Sure. Me too.” There was a long pause. “Okay. Good night?”
Monique heard some more shifting and Joseph’s tiny voice saying; “Of course she is.” Then more footsteps. The creaky door to Shawn’s room opening. “Hey, it’s your mother. Yes, she wants to.”
“Monique!” Shawn sounded like he’d already been awake. “I need to talk to you. You need to tell Joseph about the pipe you found under my bed. It was clean, right? I didn’t ever use that stupid thing.” Oh well. This was at least a step up from his refusing to talk at all.
“Honey,” she said, “I love you. A lot.”
“He doesn’t believe me about not smoking it. I mean, I did smoke pot, but only at her house, and only twice, ever. She just kept giving me the stuff. What was I supposed to do, turn it down? I know I shouldn’t have kept it but—”
“Are you listening, Shawn? I love you.”
“He won’t let me do anything!” Shawn shouted. “You guys made me come back here and now you’re fucking up my vacation by keeping me stuck in this damn house!”
“That’s enough,” Joseph said. He must have snatched the phone back and returned to the corridor. She heard the sharp clap of Shawn’s door slamming behind him. Then the sound of Joseph knocking it back open and saying, “Do it again and I take off the hinges.”
“Don’t be too hard on him,” she said. “He’s had a tough year.”
“If we’re not hard enough he’ll have a tough decade. Or more.” Joseph’s footfalls were heavier as he walked back to their bedroom. “Are you sure you are all right, darling? You have got me worried. This sounds a little too much like a call someone makes before doing something stupid.”
He was almost right. She was making this call after doing something stupid. A lot of something stupid. But at least she was done now. Her battery beeped again. She told him not to worry. She was just overtired, and lonely. He said good night. She said good morning. They laughed at this.
MONIQUE RETURNED TO HER TINY ROOM at the BOQ motel and took a cool,