Read The Hunchback of Neiman Marcus for Free Online Page B

looking out the window
    at the clouds.
    I cover her hand with mine
    and ask her
    how she’s doing.
    She answers my question
    with an eloquent smile,
    then goes back to staring out the window.
    But a few seconds later
    her head drops down
    onto my shoulder.
    My hand flutters up
    like a startled bird
    to cradle her cheek.
    We sit here together.
    Wordless. Close.
    Closer than we’ve ever been.
    Her shoulders begin to quiver.
    Her warm tears slip down my fingers,
    anointing my wrist.
    And when my own tears come,
    it’s as if they’re gushing
    directly from a crack in my heart’s dam.
    I stroke her cheek,
    kiss the top of her head,
    wrap both arms around her.

WE’RE THE FIRST TO ARRIVE AT HER DORM
    We explore the sterile, echoing rooms
    of Samantha’s suite,
    scouring it for aspects to admire—
    the view of the courtyard,
    the size of the common room,
    the picturesque slant of the walls.
    Then, before we’re quite ready, the other
    three girls come swarming up the stairs,
    their suitcases and parents in tow.
    All of us greet each other, shy as deer.
    But soon our daughters’ breezy banter
    banishes the hush.
    Then, beneath the chatter, comes the tinkling
    song of summer’s last ice-cream truck,
    floating in through the open window—
    it’s the same melody
    that used to drift from the mobile
    that spun above Samantha’s crib…
    Michael hears it, too.
    He reaches for my hand.
    And when he laces our fingers together
    the lump in my throat
    threatens to cut off
    my breath.

EVERYONE’S UNPACKING
    Michael whistles while he works
    with a couple of the other dads,
    putting together the aluminum shelving
    for the bathroom.
    I carefully fold Samantha’s
    bouquet of new winter sweaters,
    tucking them, one by one,
    into the drawers beneath her bed.
    She doesn’t need me to do this for her,
    but seems to understand
    that if she doesn’t keep me busy
    I’ll crumble.
    She gives my shoulder
    a gentle pat,
    complimenting me
    on my awesome sweater-arranging skills.
    And I realize
    that, for the first time,
    she’s mothering
    me.

MAKING UP HER BED
    As Sam and I
    smooth the new sheets,
    shimmy the pillows
    into their cases,
    and fluff
    the clouds of comforter,
    I try
    not to think about
    what might happen
    someday
    amidst the silken folds
    of these virgin linens.

AN OLD FRIEND
    The constant battle
    I’ve been waging
    against a full-on
    weep-a-thon
    is nearly
    lost
    when Samantha lifts Monkey
    out of her suitcase
    and, unaware
    that I’m watching,
    clasps him
    to her chest.

THE UNPACKING IS DONE
    The girls
    have begun the ballet
    of getting to know each other:
    â€œYou’re kidding! I love the Beach Boys, too!”
    â€œOmigod! Me, too!” “Me, three!”
    Squeals all around.
    Michael whispers in my ear,
    then slips out
    to buy some roses.
    Now that there’s nothing left for me to do,
    I feel more in the way
    than an in-law on a honeymoon.
    I sink
    into the frayed cushions
    of the weary couch,
    afraid
    of saying something
    that might mortify my child.
    Maybe the other parents
    are feeling the same way,
    because all of them are as quiet as dust.
    We sneak awkward glances at each other,
    and when our eyes meet, we smile—
    like celebrants at a wake.

AFTER WE KISS SAMANTHA GOODNIGHT
    Michael and I watch her
    skip off down the sidewalk
    with her new roommates,
    the four of them already a unit,
    their bursts of laughter floating back to us
    as they disappear around a corner,
    happier
    than a litter
    of leashless pups.
    Then, the two of us
    head out into the night,
    hand in silent hand,
    to find
    the nearest
    liquor store.

IS IT A BAD SIGN?
    Is it a bad sign
    if even when you
    and your husband
    choke down
    every last searing drop
    of a bottle of Jack Daniel’s,
    you still
    can’t quite manage
    to get drunk
    enough?

IN THE MORNING
    There’s not
    much time left
    before Michael and I
    have to head to the airport.
    Just long