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maybe these aren’t enough. Maybe I need to scream at him or something. Tonight I told him I’d go to the police if he didn’t act right and I think this scared him a little bit because his eyes went back to normal and he sort of folded up into himself and then he left. So that’s good. I have a new thing I can use on him. I would never do that of course, really go to the police. And if he ever reads this journal he will know I will never do it and then I won’t have that tool anymore so I better hide this one. I need to think of a new place. God, I have all these things to worry about on top of hair school. It’s a wonder I’m even alive. Sometimes I think that. I think that I can’t believe I haven’t killed myself. But there’s something in me that just keeps going on. I think it has something to do with tomorrow, that there is always one, and that everything can change when it comes. The one thing I did learn tonight though, is that Queen Helen’s Cholesterol is more than just a hair conditioner.

TOLET BOWL READINGS

M

AYBE IT WAS A PATTY HEARST THING. STOCKHOLM SYNdrome or whatever it’s called when you’re being held against your will but then you become sucked in and fall in love. Or if not exactly love, you fall into something you can’t see out of. I can’t shoot a machine gun becomes, Hey, this hardly has any kick-back!

Maybe this explains why it didn’t horrify me at the time. Why I just held my Pat Benatar T-shirt up to my nose to block out the smell and stared with mild curiosity at the contents of the toilet bowl.

Hope was so moved, she was on the verge of tears. “Oh my God, this is incredible,” she whispered through her clasped fingers.

Natalie stood back against the wall, arms folded across her chest. She wanted to go to Smith College in two years and this was just not something a Smith girl should be exposed to.

“See?” Finch bellowed, pointing into the bowl at his bowel movement. “Look at the size of that coil!”

Hope leaned in closer, as if inspecting an engagement ring in a jewelry display case.

I peered over Hope’s shoulder.

Agnes came shuffling down the hallway. “What’s all the fuss about? Why are you all crowded into the bathroom?” She shouldered her way into the room and looked at all of us looking into the toilet bowl. Her mouth fell open. “What is this?”

Finch’s face reddened as his excitement grew. “See? See the way the tip of the coil breaks up out of the surface of the water? Holy Father!”

“Yeah, Dad. I see it. It’s pointing straight up out of the bowl,” Hope said, ever the good daughter.

“Exactly,” Finch boomed. “Exactly. The tip is pointing up.” He stood up straight. “Do you know what this means?”

Agnes went to his side and pulled at his arm. “Doctor, please,” she said. “Please calm down.”

“Agnes, go get a spatula,” he ordered.

“Doctor, please,” Agnes said, pulling him harder.

He jerked his arm away and gave her a shove out of the room. “A spatula, Agnes!” he screamed.

She scurried out of the room like Edith Bunker.

“What does it mean, Dad?” Hope asked.

Natalie and I looked at each other, but then looked away because we knew we’d crack up and Finch would yell at us.

“It means our financial situation is turning around, that’s what it means. It means things are looking up. The shit is pointing out of the pot and up toward heaven, to God.”

As if she’d just won the Publisher’s Clearinghouse Sweepstakes, Hope screamed. She screamed and clapped and kissed her father’s cheek.

“There, there, Hope,” Finch said. “That’s my girl.” He looked at me and Natalie. “Can you see how important this is? God has a tremendous sense of humor. He is the funniest man in the universe. And this is His way of saying that things are going to turn around for us now.”

I was mortified but fascinated. Natalie hid her face in her hands and moaned.

When Agnes returned with a spatula, Finch snatched it from her hands before she could even say a word. He immediately handed it to Hope. “I want you to carefully remove this from the water and take it outside to dry. Put it in the sun on the picnic table.”

Hope took