“Oh, right.”
“You think I’m kidding.” Jax gets out of bed and rifles through the mess of music and lyrics on his desk. Sometimes, in his nightmares, everything on this desk sings at once. He comes back with a legal pad and his horn-rimmed glasses, and reads.
“Lou Ann: wants to know if you took Dramamine for Turtle because she threw up that time in the car. Lou Ann again: to tell you never mind, it was her son that threw up in the car.”
“Lou Ann often called me before I was famous.” Taylor presses her mouth against her kneecap. Sometimes when she’s concentrating on something else she seems to be kissing her own knees, or the backs of her hands. Jax has tried it out in private, to see how it feels to love oneself unconsciously.
“Okay,” he says, “I’m skipping all the Lou Anns.” He runs his finger down the page. “Charla Rand from the Phoenix Gazette. Marsh Levin from the Arizona Daily Star. Larry Rice, photographer from the Star. Helga Carter from the Fresno Bee.”
“The what? I don’t believe this. What do they want?”
“The story of the year. A suspense-movie plot with endearing characters, a famous tourist landmark and a happy ending.”
“Shit. Is that all of them?”
“Almost. There are five more pages.”
“Skip over the Queen Bee News exetera.”
“Check Skip the Queen Bee News and the Lou Anns.” He turns a couple of pages and then flips back. “Oh, your mother. She called before I’d started writing everything down.
She thought she saw you on the news.”
“In Kentucky? That can’t be.”
“Well, basketball season’s over.”
“Lord, it must have scared the bejesus out of her.”
“Don’t worry, I’m very good in crisis situations. I told her she was hallucinating. Then after I heard, I called her back and told her you and Turtle pulled through without a scratch.”
“It’s not like we fell down any holes.”
“She won’t completely believe that till she hears from you.”
Taylor smiles. “I’ll call her in the morning.”
“She wants a new picture of Turtle. Her theory is that in the one you sent Santa Claus looks like Sirhan Sirhan.”
“No, like Lee Harvey Oswald.”
He looks at her, takes off his glasses and throws the notepad on the floor. “How did you know that?”
“I lived with her twenty years. I know what she’d say.”
“You two ought to be in the National Enquirer. TELEPATHIC MOTHER-DAUGHTER DUO RECEIVE MESSAGES THROUGH FILLINGS.”
“We’re just close.”
“Perversering mother-daughter duo.”
“Would you please shut up? You’re jealous of everything, even my mother.”
“Did you and Turtle really persevere perversely?”
“I’m going to be sorry I let you keep a scrapbook.”
“It’s great material. Oh, and another news flash also: She’s leaving her husband.”
Taylor stares at Jax. “Who? My mother is leaving Harland?
Where’s she going? Is she coming here?”
“You didn’t get the message through your fillings?”
“She’s leaving him? Where’s she going?”
“I don’t know.” He closes his eyes. “Not here. She sounded a little sad.”
“I have to call her right now.”
She shoves his head off her lap, but Jax catches her around the waist and pulls her back onto the bed. “It’s two in the morning there, sweet thing. Let her sleep.”
“Damn it. I hate time zones. Why can’t they just make it the same time everywhere at once?”
“Because if they did, somewhere on earth some poor musicians would have to sleep at night and go to work in day-light.”
Taylor relaxes a little against Jax, who puts his arms around her. He spreads his hands across the bony marimba of her ribs, wishing for the music they hold. “Are you in love with our garbage man?” he asks.
“Danny! Oh, pew, his truck smells like compost city.”
“Uh huh. So you’re saying you would be in love with him, if his truck smelled better.”
“Jax, why do you do this?”
“I’m thinking you’ll leave me, now that you’re famous.”
“A world-famous employee of a car-parts store.”
“You’re the manager. Don’t sell yourself short. You don’t need me.”