Fires. Essays, Poems, Stories

passed over her dentures. After that she never drank except on holidays and then never to excess.
    My dad kept on drinking that Friday night and tried to ignore my mother, who sat out in the kitchen and smoked and tried to write a letter to her sister in Little Rock. Finally he got up and went to bed. My mother went to bed not long after, when she was sure he was asleep. She said later she noticed nothing out of the ordinary except maybe his snoring seemed heavier and deeper and she couldn't get him to turn on his side. But she went to sleep. She woke up when my dad's sphincter muscles and bladder let go. It
    was just sunrise. Birds were singing. My dad was still on his back, eyes closed and mouth open. My mother looked at him and cried his name.
    I kept driving around. It was dark by now. I drove by my house, every light ablaze, but Cynthia's car wasn't in the drive. I went to a bar where I sometimes drank and called home. Katy answered and said her mother wasn't there, and where was I? She needed five dollars. I shouted something and hung up. Then I called collect to a woman eight hundred miles away whom I hadn't seen in months, a good woman who, the last time I'd seen her, had said she would pray for me.
    She accepted the charges. She asked where I was. She asked how I was. "Are you all right?" she said.
    We talked. I asked about her husband. He'd been a friend of mine and was now living away from her and the children.
    "He's still in Portland," she said. "How did all this happen to us?" she asked. "We started out good people." We talked a while longer; then she said she still loved me and that she would continue to pray for me.
    "Pray for me," I said. "Yes." Then we said good-bye and hung up.
    Later I called home again, but this time no one answered. I dialed my mother's number. She picked up the phone on the first ring, her voice cautious, as if expecting trouble.
    "It's me," I said. "I'm sorry to be calling."
    "No, no, honey, I was up," she said. "Where are you? Is anything the matter? I thought you were coming over today. I looked for you. Are you at homer
    "I'm not at home," I said. "I just called there."
    "Old Ken was over here today," she went on, "that old bastard. He came over this afternoon. I haven't seen him in a month and he just shows up, the old thing. I don't like him. All he wants to do is talk about himself and brag on himself and how he lived on Guam and had three girlfriends at the same time and how he's traveled to this place and that place. He's just an old braggart, that's all he is. I met him at that dance I told you about, but I don't like him."
    "Is it all right if I come over?" I said.
    "Honey, why don't you? I'll fix us something to eat. I'm hungry
    myself. I haven't eaten anything since this afternoon. Old Ken brought some Colonel Sanders over this afternoon. Come over and I'll fix us some scrambled eggs. Do you want me to come get you? Honey, are you all right?"
    I drove over. She kissed me when I came in the door. I turned my face. I hated for her to smell the vodka. The TV was on.
    "Wash your hands," she said as she studied me. "It's ready."
    Later she made a bed for me on the sofa. I went into the bathroom. She kept a pair of my dad's pajamas in there. I took them out of the drawer, looked at them, and began undressing. When I came out she was in the kitchen. I fixed the pillow and lay down. She finished with what she was doing, turned off the kitchen light, and sat down at the end of the sofa.
    "Honey, I don't want to be the one to tell you this," she said. "It hurts me to tell you, but even the kids know it and they've told me. We've talked about it. But Cynthia is seeing another man."
    "That's okay," I said. "I know that," I said and looked at the TV. "His name is Ross and he's an alcoholic. He's like me."
    "Honey, you're going to have to do something for yourself," she said.
    "I know it," I said. I kept looking at the TV.
    She leaned over and hugged me. She held me a minute. Then she let go and wiped her eyes. Til get you up in the morning," she said.
    "I don't have much to do tomorrow. I might sleep in a while after you go." I thought: after you get up, after you've gone to the bathroom and gotten dressed, then I'll get into your bed and lie there and doze and listen to your radio out in the kitchen giving the news and weather.
    "Honey, I'm so worried about you."
    "Don't worry," I said. I shook my head.
    "You get some rest now," she said. "You need to sleep."
    'Til sleep. I'm