Page 43 of A Winter of Discontent for Henry Milch
Brian pointed. I picked up the diaper bag and left. Well, they had it in hand, so I didn’t see the point of waiting for a break. Was there a break? I had no idea. If it was karaoke you’d just leave when someone bad was singing, which was basically any time you wanted. But this… Not like I had much choice. One of us was really beginning to stink.
Before I got to the men’s room, I ran into aura-girl. She was thin, brunette, and had a had a habit of wearing obviously homemade clothing. Tonight’s piece was a thick woolen sweater with one arm longer than the other. Sandy? Yeah, that was it, Sandy something. She took one look at me and Emerald, and said, “Oh my… I’m so happy for you!”
“She’s not mine. She’s my sister.”
“No, I meant your aura. It’s blue. You’re content and at peace.”
Actually, at that particular moment I was a little frantic. Changing diapers was not on my list of things that brought me joy and contentment. She continued, “You must have taken what I said very seriously.”
“Yeah, what did you say again?”
“I said you’re a student of life. You remember that, I’m sure you do.”
“To be honest, I really didn’t understand what you meant. It sounds cool but, you know, it’s kind of vague.”
“A student of life? What could be clearer? You’re interested in people, you like watching them, figuring them out. Solving them in a way. And it’s good for you. Very good.”
Some of that wasn’t far off; she was giving me the creeps. “I hate to interrupt, but my sister needs to be changed.”
“Of course, of course…”
But then I thought, since I had the chance, “Did you happen to know Bobbie LaCross?”
She darkened. In fact, I felt like I was watching her aura change colors before my eyes. “I hate to say bad things about people. It’s not good… karmically.”
“Thinking them can’t be much better,” I said, hoping to nudge her into saying whatever it was. But she turned and walked away. Well, people seemed to have strong opinions about Bobbie.
In the men’s room, there was just enough room on the sink to balance Emerald while I removed one disposable diaper and got her into another one. One thing my grandmother taught me, which was actually helpful, was that you had to keep one hand on the baby at all times. It kept them from rolling, slipping, sliding, tumbling, flipping, spinning or otherwise escaping your grasp.
I was applying some ointment, when Hanging Chad came into the restroom. He didn’t bother with any of the traditional uses of a public toilet, and said, “The books you reserved are in. They’ve been in for quite a while. I tried calling you, but you don’t answer.”
As I quickly finished diapering my sister, I tried to figure out what he was talking about. I had a vague memory of going to thelibrary shortly after my motherabandonedus and trying to take out a couple of books on baby craft.What to Expect When You’re Expectingwas one of them—a complete misfire, as I later found out it was only about pregnancy and not useful at all. Honestly, I don’t remember what the other books were. Between detoxing and actually taking care of Emerald I’d completely forgotten about the books. Between the baby brigade, the pediatrician and some very enlightening baby blogs, I’d pretty much gotten a handle on things. At least I hoped so.
“Ah, yeah, um thanks. I’m not sure I need them anymore.”
Given the extra lousy job I’d done diapering Emerald, I thought for a moment he might disagree.
“Then I’ll release them back into circulation.”
He started to leave the restroom which left me wondering, had he really followed me into the men’s room to tell me my books were in? But then he stopped and asked me, “Hey maybe you’d like to have coffee some time?”
Oh, god.
“I kind of have my hands full at the moment.” Literally, I was holding an infant.
“Oh, well, yeah. Okay. Sure. Maybe sometime… in the future.”
“Probably not.”
“Oh. Yeah, right.”
And then he left.
You might think I was rude, but really I wasn’t. The last thing I wanted to do was lead him on. Saying no isn’t always as impolite as it sounds. I know I might have, possibly, flirted with him a little tiny bit to get information. I mean, seriously, who hasn’t flirted with a librarian when confronted with the Dewey decimal system? Anyway, I was sure he’d get over it.
When I got back to the table, my teammates were looking glum. In my absence they’d missed two questions. Ed read thenext question. “In theBrady Bunch, who was Cousin Oliver? 1. Alice’s love child, 2. Greg Brady’s best friend, 3. Carol’s nephew or 4. a kitten the family adopted.”
“Well, obviously not number one,” I said.
