Page 19 of A Winter of Discontent for Henry Milch

“You’re not the only one who can lie.”

Whoa, I caught her in a lie and she calledmeout as a liar. That takes nerve. Mad respect, though. I mean, it made me hate her guts, but I was still impressed.

“Was Denny at the meeting?”

“No, he wasn’t. And why do you care so much—oh, crap. Your thing for Carl, you want to sabotage their relationship by telling him Denny doesn’t go to meetings.”

Opal immediately flushed, her red cheeks, blue hair and white smudges making her look very patriotic—though it would have been a better look in July.

“I have to go. Thanks, but no thanks for the info.”

When I got home there was still time for a short nap. I checked in the kitchen, gave Emerald a tickle in her high chair—she began to fuss. I let Riley back in and scolded mygrandmother for trying to keep him outside. It was a warm day but still barely in the twenties.

“You act like I’m a monster. If you’re worried about your dog build him a doghouse.” Then she said to Dorothy, who was at the stove sterilizing bottles despite being told to use the dishwasher repeatedly, “He sleeps with the mangy thing.”

“Oh yeah, all my grandkids do. It’s the way they are.”

“I don’t know what we did wrong.”

Meanwhile, as the baby began to cry, I gave Riley fresh water and a big bowl of kibble. “I’m going to take a nap. If you let Riley out, let him back in.”

Then I went upstairs, scurrying away from Emerald’s screams, and took an Ativan.

CHAPTER SIX

When I woke up it was dark. I glanced at the clock, seven. Why was it seven? Distantly, I heard a small voice saying, “Help. Please help...” My Nana Cole.

I got out of bed and padded down the stairs to the first floor. In the kitchen, my grandmother was on the floor. Emerald was happily crawling around next to her.

When Nana Cole saw me, she said, “Thank God. I’ve been calling for forever.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up when Dorothy left?”

“We called up the stairs and you wouldn’t wake up.”

Okay, so maybe I took two Ativan. I was having trouble remembering.

“Dorothy just left?”

“She had things to do. She has a life.”

“Everyone living has a life.” I picked up the baby and strapped her into the car seat. She seemed to be smirking, as though she’d engineered this whole situation.

“How did you end up on the floor?”

“I fell. Is it that hard to figure out?”

“Were you holding the baby when you fell?”

I was giving Emerald a subtle exam, gently squeezing her limbs to see if she cried, touching her head to make sure it hadn’t been flattened on one side.

“I didn’t let go of her and she didn’t hit the ground.”

“You know you’re not supposed to take her out of the car seat when you’re alone.”

“She was getting fussy. And why aren’t you asking me ifI’mhurt?”

She was still on the floor, so I’d assumed she was. She was also talking, bitching, making excuses for herself. So I knew she couldn’t be hurt badly.