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Chapter Seventeen
Whenever I can’tsleep, I compile lists of names.
I start with the letterAand work my way through the alphabet.Ais for Anne;Bis for Barbara;Cis for Courtney. Down toZis for Zelda. Then I start over again, using different names:Ais for Amy;Bis for Blythe;Cis for Caroline. Down toZis for Ziva.
Sometimes, I use only girls’ names, sometimes boys’. Occasionally, I combine them.Eis for Ellie;Fis for Frank;Gis for Gwynneth;His for Hayden. This is a little easier than it used to be now that so many names apply to either sex.
Occasionally, I make it more difficult for myself. I try for five names a letter: R is for Renee, Rose, Ruth, Rhonda, and Rachael;Sis for Shannon, Skylar, Susan, Sheila, and Samantha;Tis for Tommy, Timothy, Travis, Tony, and Teddy.
Well, you get the idea.
At first, I’d be asleep within minutes, but as I grew accustomed to the game, I found it taking longer and longer to work. Certain letters, in particular, gave me great difficulty. There are only so many names that begin withU, V, W,andY,and I defy anyone to come up with more than a couple of names forQ, X,andZ.Sometimes, trying to come up with new names is the very thing keeping me awake.
Still, I persist. Like most habits, it’s a hard one to break.
And I’ve been doing it since I was a child.
It started as a way to block out the sound of my parents’ fighting. “A is for Alison,” I’d whisper, my hands pressed tightly against my ears to block out their angry voices. “B is for Bonnie. C is for Cathy.”
“What are you mumbling about?” I remember Tracy asking one especially bad night. “Whatever it is,” she continued, not waiting for my reply, “stop it. I’m trying to sleep.”
This was followed by a loud thump. “What was that?” I asked her.
“What was what?”
“That noise. Didn’t you hear it?”
“It’s nothing. Go to sleep.”
“I’m scared,” I said, but I received only an exasperated sigh in response.
The angry voices bounded up the stairs, took root in the hallway. I climbed out of bed and approached the bedroom door, opening it a crack and peeking down the hall to where my parents stood.
“You’re nothing but a bully,” I watched my mother shout. “A bully and a liar.”
“And you’re a crazy bitch,” my father shot back, his right arm lifting into the air.
“Go ahead,” my mother dared. “Hit me again, you miserable bastard!”
Which was exactly what he did.
I gasped as she fell to the floor.
“For God’s sake, Jodi. What are you doing?” Tracy demanded. “Shut the door and get back into bed.”
“What are you doing?” another voice asked suddenly.
Harrison.
What was happening? What was he doing in my childhood bedroom?
I opened my eyes, glancing toward the unfamiliar bedside clock, noting it was after midnight. What was happening? Where was I? “What?”
“Who are Alison and Bonnie?”
“What?” I asked again.
“You were talking in your sleep.”
