Dazed and Confused
By Roopa Swaminathan
In principle, the day started really well. Her daughter’s headmaster called and said he wanted to talk to her regarding her kid acting out. No. That couldn’t be. Her kid was an angel. Something about her then? He’d whined and complained about something, someone. His dry and one-tone voice lulled her into mental inertia, and she kept saying yes and no to whatever he said. She must’ve said the right thing at the right time with just the right inflection for he finally said OK and got off the phone.
But what did he say?
Something…about her kid being very quiet and uncommunicative in class and they wanted her to come by and talk with the school therapist? Yes? Yes, That was it.
Oh, shit she thought. She’d have to talk about the separation and divorce. Maybe talk in front of her daughter since they did these new-age fru fru let’s get everything out in the open shit, these days. And of course, the school therapist would judge her because she wasn’t able to pick up her kid a few times because she was a single mom who was fucking busy all the time and the day did not consist of 36 hours, and no…she had no extra time at all to volunteer in after-school parental garbage activities like promoting healthy behaviors among students or organizing activities for her kids’ classmates or having get-togethers and reading evenings or some such nonsense. Her sister in America did more interesting things for her kids’ school’s PTA events like have bake-sales or car washes. Whoa! That was something she could get on board with. Carwashes. And she’d clean up more cars than all the moms combined. Her red and white striped hot pants…wear that and strategically get wet and sidle up with a pout against the bumper of the cars…damn. Hot. She got hot and bothered just thinking about it. Cars. Wow. Cars and car washes.
Oh, crap!
When was the last time she got her car washed? OMG! At least a few months. Her kid complained about all the cigarette butts and empty McDonald’s wrappers and ketchup strewn all over. Well. She was busy. Unlike others who have cushy jobs like Ms. Judgy Judy therapist from the kid’s school.
Her stomach growled. Yikes. She was hungry, she needed food and she needed to go to the grocery store. The cupboards in the kitchen looked bleak and empty even by her standards. Man can teenagers eat she thought. She’d just gone shopping… when was that? Three days back? Nah. That was the weekend, and she was home all-day watching football. She was a girl and loved football. All her friends, especially the male ones, loved her because she was like them. But…grocery shopping? When did she go last to the store?
Oh shit. Did she pack lunch for her kid this morning? SHIT.
SHIT. SHIT. SHIT.
She’d overslept. She panicked for a second and then remembered. Her kid’s school had called to talk about her kid. That means her kid got to school. Phew. Whatta relief.
Her stomach reminded her she needed fuel to fill up the tank. She didn’t feel like ordering fast food. There wasn’t much money in her bank account anyway and she was in-between jobs. And she had no credit cards. His ex had cut up everything because of her overspending. And now she couldn’t get one because her credit was bad. How could she get better scores if she had no credit card, Einstein? Was she the only one with any brains?
Whatever. She needed to eat something before she went…where did she need to go again?
She tried to think back and retraced her thoughts but couldn’t remember. And why she was standing in front of the fridge? She shrugged. She was there already. Might as well open the door. There was one rotten orange and a bottle of vodka.
Come to mama! she grinned as she grabbed the bottle and chugged from it directly.
Some vague random thought nagged her. Did she need to do something that day? She wasn’t sure. She felt something vague in her heart and heard some voices in her head. Was someone crying? Did someone cry that morning? She’d felt someone shake her. Whoa! What was that? Or maybe she just dreamed everything.
Oh well. She shrugged, chugged some more vodka, and checked her Insta to see if anyone had poked her or DMed her. She’d met two cute guys – one at the hot new nightclub that Rash and Amy and Bhavna had been wanting to go to for months – Party Like A Freak. Oh, no worries there. She did party like a freak that night. Oh, sure…she’d had one too many and stood on their table and did an impromptu high-pitched rendition of Don’t stop believing and that got everyone’s attention when the whole club stared at her. And that of course put her friends’ collective panties in a wad.
Beeyotches.
Man, were they jealous when so many dudes looked her up and down and checked her out that night. But she was selective. She never just put out for anyone but she’d liked the one who’d winked at her. He was cute. All dressed in black with a glass that he’d raised to her. Sure, they hadn’t exchanged digits or anything…her killjoy friends had pulled her down from the table and said they needed to ‘take her home’ because ‘she was making a fool of herself.’ Fool, my ass! More, jealous their asses! She always got so much more attention than any of her boring entourage. And the second guy she met at…the mall. She was picking up some potatoes and onions from D Mart and she saw him across the soft drinks aisle. He was dressed in brown pants and a peach-orange shirt. Wait! Was he one of the guys who worked at the store? They wore similar color clothes, no? He was picking up some chicken from the freezer. Was it for himself or for a customer? Whatevs. It was like in the movies and everything happened in slo-mo as they’d looked into each other’s eyes and saw deep into their souls or some such shit. They’d had a definite moment between them when she’d walked across to talk to him but got waylaid by a woman who wanted to know where she could get Maggi.
Oh, fuck. Grocery store. Did she need to do grocery shopping? She squinted her eyes trying to remember. Again, a few blurry images, some voices but nothing else.
She shook her head. Oh well. She may as well go back to bed then. She gulped down some more vodka and snuggled deep inside her bed, pulled the cozy blanket over herself, and fell fast asleep.
**********
The phone rang and rang and rang and finally went to voicemail. “Hello? Ms. Jwala? You were supposed to meet us at 4 pm today. It’s now 5:30 pm and your daughter is with us.”
Some static noise on the phone connection later, a young girl’s voice came on, “Mom? Where are you? Are you OK? I tried to wake you up this morning. I shook you but you wouldn’t wake up. Don’t worry. I bummed a ride with Mrs. Ali. I made lunch for you this morning. Mrs. A gave me two boxes of MTR Ready to Eat Rajma masala. I made rice and boiled the rajma packets in hot water and left it on the kitchen counter before I left for school. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be OK and…”
The first voice took the phone from the young girl and said, “Ms. Jwala? We’ve called Abitha’s dad. He will pick her up and take her to his home. But we need to talk. Call us.”
**********
She was blissful in her sleep. Dead to the world. And dead to herself.
