Mom and Dad are in the basement playing gin. “Your deal,” Dad says. Mom pours Tanqueray into one of the milk cups we used as children. “GIN,” she shouts, slamming it down. Dad’s pupils become little cartoon hearts. I know this because they’ve been playing gin for years.
After please and thank you, the first lesson Mom taught me was to never drink gin. “Son,” she said with a shiny glass in hand, “don’t ever drink gin.” I listened because that’s what you do, because when you’re a kid and your parent says something, it has to be right.
Older Sister is somewhere in a college dorm, Older Brother is somewhere in Arizona. I’m in the kitchen, on top of the basement, boiling penne and chopping tomatoes with an adult’s knife. “Will you come back for me?” I once asked Older Sister. Older Brother is too far gone.
When Mom and Dad emerge, it’s like they’ve swam from one world into another. They have the sheen of a newborn, their pink faces puffy and bewildered. “Dinner,” I say, pointing to their placemats at the table. They sit down and coo at each other.
The Family eats. I chew with abandon, like one more dinner gets me closer to out there. Like one more dinner means one less dinner here. Mom and Dad, they consume slowly. “Next time, I want a happy brain,” Mom cries to Dad. “And a happy brain you shall have,” Dad promises.
At bedtime, I tuck myself in and look at the ceiling, like we do. I think about a studio apartment with sunny windows and vine-y plants hugging the walls. I think of a boring commute and a steady job and a refrigerator filled with yogurt.
Downstairs, Patti Smith howls. I know she’s coming from the basement. Before I sleep, I hope that Mom and Dad did what they could. I think they might just be two gray-haired kids who need to drink gin in a glass half full.
KATE FAIGEN lives and writes in Los Angeles. Her stories have appeared in Los Angeles Review, Maudlin House, Ghost Parachute, and more. You can find her on Twitter: @k8faigen.
BRITNIE WALSTON is a versatile artist, creating energy through light and vibrant colors. She captures the beauty of nature, blending boundaries between reality and abstraction. This creates a unique dreamscape atmosphere, providing viewers with a multilayered and immersive visual experience. Britnie graduated from Goucher College as a fine and performing arts scholar and studied at the Maryland Institute College of Art. While in college, she also studied art and Greek mythology abroad in Greece with the University of Maryland College Park. Her art’s published in Carolina Quarterly, Cutbank, and Denver Quarterly. She is also forthcoming in So To Speak. Find Britnie on Instagram: @bnwart_leaway and Twitter: @BNWArtDesign
