Arul, Nameless...1
The Nameless, the Faceless
The front door finally shut after several attempts of Renramming her shoulder against it. On the other side, the screen door squeaked as it exhaled to lock into place. Her shoulders habitually caved in, Ren locked the door and crossed the living room littered with Barbies with half-shaven heads, Legos pieced together to form skyscrapers and thin hardback books detailing things like the solar system, all of which had spilled out of the clear plastic storage bins and were strewn haphazardly across the floor.
In the kitchen, Ren let her purse plop onto the table and hung her keys on the hook next to the fridge. She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck before opening the chilly white compartment. There were eggs, milk, butter...there had to be something she had to buy. She looked at the kitchen table where the kids’ favorite jar of crunchy peanut butter sat. They already had celery, apples, whole grain bread. She’d gone grocery shopping the day before. She grabbed the bread, peanut butter and jelly to get started on sandwiches in case the kids were hungry when they got home from school. They usually were.
She worked in silence, looking up at the stove clock now and then. The birds on the back porch railing chirped, while the refrigerator hummed its subdued single note. Ren’s breathing was soft, her face weighed down. In between sandwiches, she pulled her cell phone from her purse and saw a missed call and voicemail. She put it on speaker and set it on the counter before resuming the sandwiches. It was Maren, whom she hadn’t seen in months.
“Ren! It’s Maren. Hey, figured I’d call since I feel like we haven’t talked in months. We need to catch up. I guess you’re at work right now, so hope I didn’t disrupt anything if your phone was on. Anyway, hope your job’s going well. I should visit you one day, maybe give in to relaxation and get myself a facial. Not saying this at all in hopes of getting a discount, no, no...” A chuckle. “And hope Alex and the kids are doing well.” A beat. “Things are ok in my neck of the woods. Tripp lost another tooth.” Another beat. “Ok, well, just wanted to call to see how you were doing and we should get lunch soon. Ok, talk to you later. Bye.”
Ren had been spreading the strawberry jelly slowly while Maren’s voice rang out like bells in the empty house. Ren thought of a solitary kite floating without its anchor across the sun so blinding you could only squint and hold up a hand to look at it.
She covered the sandwiches with saran wrap and set the plate on the table. She then heard the muffled sound of a school bus in the distance. Remembering she’d locked the door, she scurried out of the kitchen, past the Barbies and Legos and books, and opened the front door. Coming up the driveway was a gangly boy with black hair.
“Hi, honey,” Ren said, holding open the screen door so Robert could come through.
“You don’t have to open the door for me,” he mumbled, passing Ren on the way in without looking at her. He dumped his forest green backpack on the floor and turned on the Xbox.
“How was school?” Ren said as she shut the door behind her, closing it after only one shoulder jab that time.
“It was whatever,” Robert said. He settled into the couch and perched his feet on the coffee table after grabbing the game controller.
“Feet off the table, you.”
Robert glared blandly at her and slid his socked feet off the table with an air of cheeky obedience.
“I made sandwiches if you’re hungry.” Ren went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, absently looking over its contents. She heard Robert shuffle to the kitchen.
“Really, mom? You don’t think I’m too old for peanut butter and jelly?”
“For God’s sake, you’re in 6th grade, Robert,” Ren said, sticking her head out from behind the fridge door. “Don’t you like that peanut butter?”
“Yeah, when I was five.This is so stupid.”
Ren put a hand on her hip. “Hey, guess what, Robert? It’s food. That’s more than a lot of kids around the world your age can say, ok?”
Robert sighed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“Stop saying ‘whatever.’ ‘Whatever’ doesn’t solve anything.”
“Whatever.”
Ren tried to match Robert’s intimidating glower. It looked to her like he’d practiced that look before. She let out an exhale. “Is everything ok at school?”
“Stop asking. It’s fine.” He angled his upper body toward the ceiling as though he was asking God to take him away. He took a sandwich with him into the living room and Ren followed. She turned off the Xbox and stood in front of the TV.
“Mom!”
“No games till your homework’s done. But first, tell me, Robert, is there something going on at school? Are people...” She gestured with her hands.
“No! God, leave me alone,” he said and picked up his sandwich before going to his room.
“Robert,” Ren said as sternly as she could. She picked up his backpack and followed him to the foot of the stairs. “This is serious.”
He didn’t stop.
“Wait.”
Still no stop.
“Robert.” His name spilled out with sudden urgency. “Your bookbag.” She held it out in front of her.
His steps slowed and he turned back down the stairs, snatched the backpack and ran back up. The bedroom door slammed.
“Do your homework,” she yelled. She moaned and rubbed her eyes. Soon she heard the engine of another school bus outside followed by careless giggling. She went to the door and held it open.
Kaya and Maggie came through, clutching their backpacks casually and smiling.
“Hi, mom,” Kaya said.
“Hi, mommy,” Maggie echoed.
“Hi, girls,” Ren said. “Good day at school?”
As they moved further into the house, Kaya and Maggie alternated telling Ren about learning to write hypotheses and conclusions and learning about different types of butterflies. The girls ate their sandwiches and did their homework at the kitchen table, chatting happily. Around many corners, Ren sat on the last step of the staircase.
Early evening saw Ren and the girls on the couch watching a Discovery Channel documentary about sea otters. Ren didn’t bother making dinner; her husband, Alex, had called her earlier saying he’d bring home pizza. Robert stayed locked up in his room.
The front door opened and Maggie hopped off the couch to greet her father. Kaya said her greetings from the couch.
“My girls,” Alex said and jammed the door shut with one extra push. “We need to get that fixed.” He asked Maggie to bring the pizza box to the kitchen and hung up his black wool coat. “How was your day, Ren?”
“The usual,” she said.“Yours?”
“The usual.” He loosened his tie and passed in front of the TV to the kitchen. “Rob in his room?”
“Yeah.”
The family had dinner in front of the TV, on which they watched an animated movie. When it cut to a commercial from a travel company about touring Europe, Ren felt the dormant ache beneath her ribs pierce her suddenly and sharply for just a second. She just wanted to sleep. Her job as a spa receptionist wasn’t physically taxing, and she didn’t even have to work since Alex made enough for both of them, but it wouldn’t matter whether she were a professional acrobat or lay in bed all day—she suspected she’d feel the same drain, the same weariness.
“Everything alright?” Alex asked her as they unmade the bed later that night.
“Yes,” she said, meeting his eyes only briefly.
“Alright,” he said with complacent disbelief. He disappeared into the ensuite bathroom. Ren watchedhis black hair stick up at the back of his head where he had a habit of messing with it. Ren got into bed, pulled the covers over herself and stared at nothing. Alex emerged from the bathroom, turned off the lamp and got into bed. Ren listened to the ruffling of sheets. They didn’t touch. But lying there side by side with her husband, feeling like the tide wouldn’t take her away, Ren almost felt certain of something, something comforting and reassuring.
She was on the edge of sleep when—
A whisper. “You think you wanna go to London some day?”
“What?” she whispered back.
“We could go to London. I know you’ve always wanted to go there, and I know I’ve always been busy with work. So let’s go. Or, you know, wherever else. We could bring the kids. Or if we go during the summer, just let my mom have ‘em for a couple weeks if you want.”
Ren’s heart was beating hard.A slice of the outside world beyond book clubs and cooking classes.A reminder that she was someone. But that night, listening to her husband, her gentle, soft-spoken husband, she knew she had always been someone. She wanted to say, “No. No London necessary.” She wanted to say, “I’m selfish.” Faces—Robert, Kaya, Maggie—rose in her mind and she wanted to cry.
“No,” she whispered. “It’s ok.”
“No, Ren,” Alex answered, turning on his side to face her.
Ren’s eyes had adjusted to the dark and she could make out his figure.
“Let me do this for you.” He placed his hand on her arm.
She didn’t smile—she couldn’t—but it was as if invisible strings were pulling her eyebrows just a little farther toward the sky. Her lips parted a centimeter more, and she imagined she almost looked like she’d just seen an angel.