school nurse. She made the kids toast and gave them Coke for an upset stomach. When Peaches finally decided to go to nursing school, Greg was thrilled. He made lists of the courses and exams she needed to take and the closest universities. He created study schedules for her. He shopped for groceries and cooked all their meals. He quizzed her and bought her a new pillow so she’d be well-rested before her exams.
“He would have liked to try the rabbit,” Peaches whimpered softly. She wiped her nose on her sleeve.
Greg lifted the lid and peeked into the pot. He gave it a stir. Legs, thighs, and a little pointed head. “You’re cooking a rabbit?”
She nodded and snorted into her arm. Her shoulders shook. Was she laughing or crying?
“I got him at the butcher. Rabbit must be the meat of the week or something. I know you won’t eat him. But I’m going to try him. Oh, and we need to watch more Nicole Kidman movies. They’re huge fans.”
“Who?” Liam wasn’t crying anymore.
Peaches wiped her nose on her shirtsleeve again. “The butchers.”
Liam stood up and took three glasses out of the cupboard. “Mom, you’re high. It’s embarrassing. Remember that time you asked me where to get pot? Was it for you?”
“No.” She waved her hand at him. “That was for Stuart Little. His wife was sick.”
Greg refilled her glass of wine. “I know you have a huge crush on him. I guess I always have too. I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately.”
Don’t waste your time, Peaches thought bitterly.
“I was wondering if I could give you some songs to share with him. I think they’re pretty good, but I’m not a hip enough musician to make them sound cool. I think he could. They’re kids’ songs. For a kids’ album.” He dispensed a cube of ice from the freezer, popped it into his mouth, and sucked on it. “I feel like you owe me this.”
Peaches gulped her wine. She decided not to say anything about Stuart trying to turn the Shel Silverstein poem “Sick” into a song. What did Greg mean, she owed him?
Greg dipped his index finger in the rabbit pot and licked it off. “They’re sending us the dog’s ashes.” He smacked his lips together. “Tastes like blueberry jam.” He pulled a little notepad and pen out of the back pocket of his khakis and jotted something down. “Rabbit, grab it. Blueberry jam,” he sang to himself.
Peaches watched him with stoned dissatisfaction. She pushed her wineglass away. “Stuart told me once he’d never do a kids’ album. It’s too middle-aged and obvious.”
“Oh, he told you that, did he?”
“Yes. He tells me lots of things.” Peaches wasn’t sure what she was doing. Last time she’d seen Stuart Little, she’d basically told him to go home to his wife.
“Why don’t you ask Stuart Little to come over and eat your rabbit with you?”
“Maybe I will,” Peaches responded.
“Guys,” Liam pleaded. “Stop.”
“I saw you kiss him,” Greg said.
“Yeah, and I enjoyed it.”
“Mom?”
Greg ignored his pleading son. Liam was seventeen, he could handle it. When Peaches was in labor with Liam she’d growled at Greg like a rabid dog and shouted expletives at him. Somehow it helped. If Peaches needed to fight now, he could fight.
“Fuck your flirting. And fuck your rabbit,” Greg said ridiculously. He tore off his socks and hurled them across the kitchen, inside out, to rile her up even more.
“Dad!”
“Fuck you,” Peaches snapped. “It’s your fault the dog died.”
“Mom, please.”
But they kept on ignoring him, and Liam fled the room.
* * *
In his room, Liam fumed. Why was everything so messed up? His dog was dead, his parents hated each other, and he’d totally messed things up with Shy. They were practically about to have sex and then he’d left his backpack in the park and got so worried that someone was going to steal it and his calculus textbook with it that he’d basically abandoned her, half undressed, without any explanation. He’d gotten an 89 on his calc test the next morning, which was totally unacceptable, his lowest grade ever, and he’d been in a foul mood ever since. Not that he blamed Shy.
Fucking Bruce, that’s who he blamed. If Bruce hadn’t burned down the schoolyard, his mom wouldn’t have been mad at him all the time and he wouldn’t have developed this complex that he didn’t deserve to have things work out, that he deserved things to be fucked up and to not be able to