Monday Blues

Uncle Vick went to work today. He's a customer care executive for "Complete Wrap" Health Insurance. He manages a phone bank of "customer care professionals" at an office in a grimy yellow strip mall. They don't know about the murders last Holiday season. No one does, but Me, Kwan,and Uncle Vick.

When he drove off this morning in his KIA, cigarette smoke billowing out his open driver's window, Kwan started bawling.

We both stood on the porch. "He's a psycho," she said. Her black hair covered her face and she was stooped over like she had a cramp.

I put my arm around her shoulders. "We just have to get past the Labor Day Barbecue Party. It's only two more weeks."

"I can't do it," Kwan said, in almost a shout. She stood up straight and threw my arm off of her shoulders. "Pretending to care what other people are doing. Not getting drunk. Getting gas from macaroni. I can't do it!"

The neighbor's pit bull was barking again.

"You've got to," I said. I was feeling the little stumps where my two middle left fingers had been. It was already past lunchtime and we weren't even showered. "It's our last chance."

Kwan had stopped crying. She never cried long. "Are you going to write that in your I Love Cats blog?" She didn't smile. "What if we don't make it till Labor Day?"