The Empty Nest

The Empty Nest

The kitchen was silent with the exception of my slurps. I was still slunk down in the corner, downing that last bit of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, the freezing cold oozing bits sliding down my throat. I wanted to stop, wanted to throw the carton against the stove backsplash. Wanted to scream, “Why’d you leave?” when I knew the reasons. I heard Megan plodding down the stairs. I jumped up. Opened the nearest cupboard filled with spices and tossed the nearly empty quart in there. Pretended I was finishing the dishes.

“What’re you still doing up?” Megan asked. She reached for a glass, filled it from the fridge.

“Can’t sleep,” I said. “Wanna help finish the tree?”

Megan had recently bleached her hair. Wasn’t the first time. But now she’d streaked magenta through the entire maze. “Yer gonna ruin your hair,” I’d warned.

“Big deal. It’s my hair,” was her reply.

I wanted to say, But I’m the one who has to look at it! Instead I just nodded.

“The tree?” she asked. “Are we still gonna go through the façade, Mom?”

The hot water scalded my hands. It felt good, but I turned it off. Grabbed a dishtowel. “It’s not a façade, Megan. It’s a holiday about Jesus. After all, he died for our sins.”

She snorted. “Yeah. Thanks for the reminder. And I nearly died just thinking about it all these years.” She yawned.

I thought about her cutting herself, the reason I’d started going to church, alone. He wasn’t interested. Thought I was over-reacting. I needed something to hold onto. Belief in something larger than myself when I couldn’t fathom why Megan would do something so brutal to her own flesh.

“Nah, I’ll pass on the tree.” Dragged her heavy feet back toward the stairs. “G’night.”

My youngest half-sister, Nicole, dropped by the next day. She liked to appear out of nowhere, like a cyclone. No call in advance, no warning.

“I was on my way to the cleaner’s and wanted to bring you this,” she said. Handed me an envelope with just my name, Jodi, scribbled on it. I knew it was from Dad before I saw the writing.

Nicole took her new Uggs off. “Aren’t you going to open it?” she asked. She sat at the family room table.

“Nah, I’ll read it later.” I hadn’t talked to Dad since Marv had moved out. They worked at the same law office.

“You should see how Lindsay just devours those Laura Ingalls Wilder books you gave me.”

“Oh really?” I set her coffee in front of her, went back to add more milk and sugar to mine.

“I have to make her stop long enough to get her to do her math and science projects.”

Nicole was home-schooling her kids; Lindsay was the eldest of her three darlings.

“Well, I’m happy that she likes them so much. I remember enjoying them when I was younger, too.”

“Your tree looks nice,” Nicole nodded toward the half assembled plastic bush.

“It’s not finished yet.”

“Oh. How’s Megan?” She sipped her coffee.

“Fine.” I didn’t have any reason not to trust her, just didn’t.

“How’s she handling the whole Marv moving out thing?”

I shrugged. “I guess, okay. We don’t really talk about it much.”

Nicole stared, then her cell rang. “Sorry,” she said, glancing at the number. “I’ve gotta get this.” She stood up and walked to the window as if I wouldn’t be able to hear her. “Honey? What is it? I’m over at Aunt Jodi’s. You’re supposed to play nice together. Don’t make me call Daddy. Okay? Mommy loves you. Bye.” Turned to me. “Sorry. I guess our new sitter sucks.”

What sitter didn’t? “So, what are your plans for Christmas?”

Her eyes lit up. “Well, we’re going over to Grandpa and Grandma’s after we open our gifts. You know, this is probably going to be Sybille’s last year believing in Santa Claus.”

Sybille was seven.

“I don’t think Megan ever believed in Santa Claus.”

“I heard that.” I turned to see Megan rubbing her eyes and yawning at the kitchen sink. “More snow?” she groaned, looking out the window.

Nicole jumped up. “Hello, Megan.” She walked over to her. “Can I have a hug?”  Megan hugged her, while mugging a face toward me.

“I like your hair,” Nicole said. “It’s- unusual.” She smiled.

Megan poured a mug of coffee. “How can you be so perky this early?”

“I’ve been up since 5!”

“That’s about the time I fell asleep.” They laughed.

We all settled at the table. Megan’s hair stuck out in about a thousand directions. I wanted to smooth it, to lacquer it. To buzz it off and start over.

“I have an idea,” Nicole was saying. “We’re going to Costa Rica in January.”

“Lucky you,” Megan said. “I hear they grow good weed.” Nicole laughed.

“Megan!” I warned.

“Just kidding, Mom, chill.”

“What I wondered,” Nicole continued, “is when do you go back to school, Megan?”

She shrugged, looked at me. “Any idea, Mom?”

“I think it’s the 14th? I’d have to check.”

Nicole smiled. “How would you like to come with us, Megan? As our nanny?”

I suppressed a laugh. Megan nudged me under the table.

There was a long pause. “I don’t speak Spanish,” she said.

Nicole giggled. “They all speak English, or some form of it.”

“I think they call it pidgeon?” I said.

“No, Mom, that’s-”

“Oh my god, look at the time!” Nicole said. She jumped up. “I forgot, it’s Saturday. Garrison has his private swim lesson. And, I just have to tell you… All the kids begin lessons in Minnow. Well, in three lessons, Garrison was already a Shark! He jumped, like, six levels. He’s such an amazing kid.” She downed the rest of her coffee. “I’ll e-mail the dates of our trip and some pictures of the resort. Megan, we’ll have a blast!”

I followed her to the door, watched while she pulled her boots on. “Say hello to everyone.” I knew it was lame, being so vague, but it was the best I could do.

“Merry Christmas, Jodi,” she whispered in my ear.

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About Robert Vaughan

Originally from NY, published author, editor, and workshop leader, his poems and fiction are widely found in over 500 print and online magazines, such as Necessary Fiction, BlazeVOX, Connotation Press, BlazeVOX, Thrice, Literary Orphans and Smokelong Quarterly. He is Managing Editor at (b)OINK magazine and leads round- tables for Redoak Writing. He is a six times Pushcart Prize Nominee and his fiction and poetry have won awards, including a Micro-Fiction runner-up (2012) and twice a finalist in the Gertrude Stein Fiction Award (2013-14). His collections are: Microtones (Cervena Barva Press); Diptychs + Triptychs + Lipsticks + Dipshits (Deadly Chaps); Addicts & Basements (Civil Coping Mechanisms); RIFT, co-authored with Kathy Fish (Unknown Press), and FUNHOUSE (Unknown Press).
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9 Responses to The Empty Nest

  1. Angela says:

    Intriguing…and I am transported. The interaction and dialogue feel very real – nice job! What happens next?!?!?! X@

  2. Karla Guererri says:

    Fabulous! This is a discerning insight into the family. BTW, school resumes on January 18 this year, not that I am thinking about that or anything.

  3. Ubuntu says:

    The best stories have well-developed settings, even to the point where the setting becomes a character. The string of dialogue could be collapsed into summative style and injected with more fully developed and interesting setting. Tighten the narrative voice because there is too much omniscience from the first person narrative (the narration wanders at the end). Might consider rewriting in third person limited omniscience. Imagine how this story might be told and transformed if the kitchen walls became the narrator. Also, what symbolism is being implied with the characters’ hair? ” Megan’s hair stuck out in about a thousand directions. I wanted to smooth it, to lacquer it. To buzz it off and start over.” These sentences are strong and leave the reader to wonder about the narrator’s desire to transform Megan’s hair when there are deeper issues at hand.

    • rgv7735 says:

      I appreciate your feedback and just ask that you remember these are all in first draft. So, your comments will be considered carefully and thanks for the time and energy you have taken to read into my story to the degree that you have.

  4. Kerry says:

    I really like the start of this one and feel like you’ve got a lot of ways to take the storyline, have it grow, and all of them would be rich in texture. I love good character development and unlike Tutu Ubuntu feel like the characters are more important than the surroundings. The surroundings obviously play into the whole storyline and can affect each character, but it is the interplay of the characters and their underlying being that grab the reader and take them to far away places.

  5. Dez says:

    Great characters, enough details about the setting. I agree with Kerry, so many directions this story could evolve into. And lots of “issues” already mentioned in just a quick chapter. Wow, I’m hooked. Let us know if you submit to any magazines or journals.

  6. Shari says:

    So, will Megan become the Nanny? Does Jodi have to revisit the situation with Marv? And what about Nicole? How does she play into the rest of this story? Again, great characters. Your dialogue is incredible, continues the story in a believable and credible manner.

  7. Rontuaru says:

    I like what’s going on between the characters in this story! I think you really nailed the wistful mother trying to cope with her own shortcomings and a heaping helping of teenage angst. I also like how certain life events have obviously created a gaping contrast between the lifestyle choices of the two sisters. I feel like I’m being pulled into this story as the dynamics of the characters shift and stumble with every comment. Each interaction feels loaded, with words spoken and words withheld.

    More please!

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