I woke up at seven, because the outdoor market was opening at eight, and I had to go get the fruit baskets from Father Emilio. I got to him by 7:30, but he made me go to Mass first, which is okay, but Lorenzo and I have been fighting so much I didn’t think I deserved communion for all the nasty things I kept yelling, but when I told Father Emilio this, he said that was my pride talking. He said to me, “You’re going to keep yourself away from God’s sacrament because you think you’re not perfect? When do you think you’ll ever be perfect enough, sinless enough, to receive the Eucharist?” So … I went to Mass, and felt a little better about things, and then carried thirteen bushels, one by one, of mangoes and tomatoes and pears and spent till noon selling them, and when I got back home, having made a thousand pesos, I found Lorenzo still sleeping! And you know, we’re so broke, and he needs to work, ride a rickshaw in Manila, which he hates to do, so instead he goes out drinking with his derelict radical buddies and then sleeps till noon, and, like I said, we haven’t paid the rent for three months, living hand to mouth (without the rent).
We had a fight that lasted till one, but then made up nicely, till two, and he got hungry, so we went to San Agustin and had lunch with Father Emilio and his orphans, for free, and then made copies of our leaflets at the mission because Father Emilio lets me use the copier, for free, and afterward went to Manila City Hall Square and distributed them at a joint rally with the Manila Police and the Philippines Motorcycle Association in support of our current president. Imagine us in a joint rally with the police. It ended peacefully at 6:30, and we met up with some friends and went out drinking but I left because I didn’t want to hang out with his loser friends, and besides, I was three days late and wanted to take a pregnancy test. The test cost me 750 pesos. It was negative. I took it at 9:00 p.m., and then cried until Lorenzo returned at eleven, too drunk to care that we weren’t having a baby, but he did get blazing mad that I spent 750 pesos on a stupid test. Oh, to think that once upon a time, I avoided the test like the Black Death, and now I spend money I don’t have to take it randomly throughout the month, just in case.
So … we had another fight, this time till well after midnight, when the neighbors finally called the police because it was getting ugly, and the cops we had rallied with wanted to arrest Lorenzo, but I said no. After they left, I left too, and went to sleep in one of the rooms at the orphanage. Father Emilio keeps telling me that I can come and live with him. He doesn’t have enough hands to take care of the kids. But I said being around so many unwanted children would make me feel even worse about my life, if that’s even possible, because there I am, wanting a baby, and unable to have one. Lorenzo came to get me at three, and we lay in the twin bed together, and had sex under God’s eyes at San Agustin. I wondered if Father would still think I was worthy of communion. To test him, I came to him this morning, and challenged him with the truth of last night. And you know what he said? God never turns away from you. He is longing for your heart, Che. Yours and Lorenzo’s.
I give up on that Father Emilio.
So that was my day.
What do you think?
Want to trade?
At the breakfast island, Asher said, “Mom, if you and Dad got divorced, we would decide who to go live with.”
“No, you wouldn’t, Ash,” said Larissa. “Mom and Dad would decide.”
“Are you getting divorced?” Michelangelo kept eating his Frosted Flakes.
“No, buddy. Eat quick. We gotta jet.”
“Well, I’ll go with you,” Asher declared, though no one asked. “You yell less.”
“Are you kidding?” said Emily. “Mom has such a temper. No, we should go with Dad.”
Michelangelo hugged his mother around the middle. “You and Daddy aren’t getting divorced, right?” Still kept on with that soggy cereal, though.
“No, sweetums,” said Larissa, running her fingers through his tangly gold curls.
“Mom,” said Asher, “if you and Dad both died, like, tomorrow, who would we go to live with then? Uncle Jimmy?” Larissa’s brother Jimmy lived in Detroit.
“Uncle Jimmy has no room,” said Larissa, getting some pretzels and a drink into a paper bag for Michelangelo’s snack. “Besides, he knows nothing of kids. What about Grandma?” She said that with negative conviction. She said it while shaking her head behind the question, no, no.
“Yeah, I guess.” Asher was thoughtful. “Maybe Florida with Grandpa?”
“We should go to school, that’s where we should go,” said Larissa.
“Yeah!” said Michelangelo. “Grandpa. I want to go to Grandpa.” Michelangelo loved Jared’s dad more than anyone else in the world. Drawings of him in his golf cart popped up all over her house.
“Oh, but how would we get there? We have no money for a plane ticket.” Asher turned to his mother. “Mom, can you give me cash for all the gift cards I got for Christmas? I have, like, two hundred dollars. I’ll be able to buy a plane ticket then.”
“But what about me?” wailed Michelangelo. “I don’t have two hundred dollars.”
“Let’s look around the house for loose change,” said Asher. “Let’s start now. We’ll get enough for a plane ticket by the time they’re dead.”
“How about if you start your search for loose change right after school,” said Larissa. “Okey-doke?”
“We’re going to miss the bus,” said Emily. “Let’s go, Ash. Mom, I can’t find my sneakers. I have gym today.”
She couldn’t find them for ten minutes. They missed the bus. She had to borrow her mother’s footwear, but when she moved her backpack to sling it on her back, there were the sneakers, cleverly hidden underneath. An exasperated Larissa drove them all to school. “Maybe a little less discussion about my death, and we’d all be more punctual.”
“No, I don’t think so, Mom,” said Asher. “I believe the two are unrelated.”
“Go to school. Learn something.”
Michelangelo was late for his spelling test. Asher forgot his clarinet, and his glasses. Emily “forgot” her coat, though it was ten degrees below zero.
To recuperate from the morning, Larissa spent the early afternoon walking the mall with Maggie. She didn’t think it counted as a calorie burner, though, shuffling along at their creaky middle-aged pace.
“Larissa, you know that Ezra is shocked you’re not genuflecting at his feet for offering you the drama director job.”
They were strolling, looking indifferently through the store displays.
“Mags, I know. But he doesn’t understand things anymore.”
“He says you’ve changed.”
“I haven’t changed. I’m exactly the same as I always was. My life has changed. I can’t just la-di-dah and take on a huge commitment like a theater director job.”
“He says you did it in Hoboken when the kids were babies.”
“Believe it or not they required less! And I was thirteen years younger. I was still entertaining the unsustainable hope that stage was going to be my life. That’s over and done with. I can’t be memorizing, chewing pencils, rehearsing, on the phone, getting involved with parents and students. It’ll consume me. Just like before. I barely have enough time to be a chauffeur. The kids need me for twenty different things in the afternoon. I have a husband who works twelve hours a day and who likes his food hot. What does he care if his wife