The Onset

Part 7( Joanne's POV)

The whole summer passed without incident. No episodes. Although, Michael did, every now and then, stare into space, and even mumbled to who knows who. Joanne, if present, made it her business to make her son ‘snap out of it’. But, overall, there was no serious incident. From her standpoint, he indeed made a valiant effort to become ‘better’.

However, eventually there was an incident one night before the road trip to Cambridge. It was in the local Key Food supermarket. On their way there, along with Malia in the car, Joanne observed him to be more spaced-out than usual. She had to pick up a few things. They left Malia in the car. While in the produce isle, Joanne noticed him looking to his right in the direction of the meat displays. He stared for a good long while. What could be so interesting about chicken and beef, she asked herself? She needed help so she called his name a few times:

“Michael? Michael? Miiiiiichaeeeeel. Miiiiiiichaeeeel.” It was as if he was a small baby, not yet used to his name. Finally, Joanne had enough. “Michael!” she said while punching him in his ribs. He looked at her, panicked, like a deer in headlights. “Could you lift this pack of water for me please? It’s heavy.” He did what he was told. She threw a few oranges into a bag and rolled off with the cart. He followed.

She still had to eye him with suspicion as they stand on line, waiting to check out. She observed as he turned his head, and looked back repeatedly for no good reason as they got closer and closer to the cashier. She did not say anything until the cashier started ringing up her items as she bagged, and then all of a sudden he shouted at the top of his lungs. Joanne looked up from what she was doing. Everybody at the front end took notice immediately. “IF YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY, I’ll SMASH YOUR f*****g FACE IN!” In front of him, was nobody. Joanne was stunned. However concerned she was, though, she became furious. How dare him! She stared him down, seething with anger. It was necessary to intimidate him to get the situation under control. Michael seemed surprised. He looked confused. Joanne does not care though. How dare he act like this in my presence, Joanne thinks.

“Get your a*s in the car!” Michael looked like he did not understand. Joanne repeats herself much louder: “Get your a*s in the car, now!” Michael quickly walks to the exit. Everyone’s eyes were on him as he left. After he was gone, everybody now looked at Joanne, those critiquing, accusatory looks on their faces, as if saying, you did an awful job raising your son, he behaves like a wild animal. She hastily threw a few items into plastic bags. She had to get out of there quick! “What’s the total?” she asked the cashier.

“Thirty-seventy-five.” She swiped her card really rough-like. She was so flustered.

Once she arrived at the car in the lot she dropped the case of water into the trunk and closed it roughly with a loud THUD. Then, she got into the driver’s seat of the vehicle, flung the groceries into the bottom of the front passenger seat, and closed her door with another loud THUD. She had to relieve the tension, the stress; so she banged the wheel a couple of times very hard, and groaned very loudly. She didn’t care what they thought in the back seat. She did not care! They were silent back there. Not even Malia had anything to say. After taking a few deep breaths, she calmed down a bit, and started the car to go home.

Later at the house, she stood leaning against the doorframe of Michael’s bedroom with her arms folded for a while, watching him pack clothes into a suitcase. Her son will be on his own after tomorrow. A thought that fretted her and will fret her every moment he is away at the university.

“Don’t forget to pack the t-shirts I bought you.” He does not look up from what he is doing.

“I won’t.” he said. She continued to watch him. Her precious son. He looks so frail, so vulnerable. She began to feel a lump in her throat. Eventually, she couldn’t stand it anymore so she made her way downstairs.

The sounds of uncouth people quarrelling and cursing barraged Joanne as she went down the stairs. These are the sounds produced by the kind of television program Malia was enamored with. She used to have such a tight hold on what her children could watch. But it became more and more difficult as work stretched her time thin. Even though, she still wished Malia would watch something that would aid her, much the way Michael absorbed copious amounts of documentaries on public programming. She plopped herself on the far right end of the couch next to Malia. She crossed her arms and receded into herself. Her frown was irremovable, indelible, and almost permanent. “What’s this?” she says, disgusted at what her daughter is watching.

“Housewives of somewhere. I can’t rememba.”

Joanne watched it anyway. Very passively, however. Neither of them spoke for a good long moment. Malia turned her head to Joanne.

“Genius wyled out in Key Food?” Joanne does not take her eyes of the television screen.

“Uhuh.” she says.

“Like he did in school?” Malia asked.

“Yep.” Joanne confirmed. Another long moment passes as neither of them say anything. Joanne could sense that her daughter wanted to come out and say the unspeakable in her house. But she waited until she id, so she could cut her off:

“Why don’t he see a—”

“—okay!” Joanne said suddenly as she got up. “I better get to bed. Listen, I don’t want no lip tomorrow. We got a long drive to there and back. Be ready by ten. Okay?” Malia looked at her mother without saying anything. Joanne knew she wanted to talk about Michael, but would do anything she could to avoid that conversation. “OKAY!” she said much louder.

“Al-right.” Malia said. Joanne went upstairs, not to sleep like she said she would, but to lay in bed staring at the ceiling, worrying.