“It’s Mickey Mouse,” Jersey says from the other side of the bed. I can’t see him because he’s on the floor.
“I’m better,” Mick responds, “thanks to your daughter.” He doesn’t look over at me, but my face flames red anyway.
“I hear she drove like a bat out of hell to get you here,” my dad says, pride flavoring his voice.
I smell smoke. My face is now officially on fire.
“That’s actually a very good description of her driving,” says Mick.
More smoke. I’m going to spontaneously combust. I scan the room for a fire extinguisher.
“We’re just glad she got you here in time. Sounds like it was serious. How did it happen?” My mom asks.
“Fire!” I yell, my voice way ahead of my brain.
“What?” my father asks, chuckling as he talks. “Are you okay, sweetie?”
I inhale loudly. “Either I’m about to burst into flames or there’s a fire around here.”
My mom lifts her head at the same time my dad does. They look like two dogs sniffing the air.
“Jersey! Where are you?!” My mom yells, running around the end of Mick’s bed.
She gasps and dives towards the floor. “Put that down!”
Jersey comes flying into view as my mom yanks him off the floor. A small lighter flies out of his hand and lands on Mick’s bed.
My mouth drops open as a wisp of smoke comes up from the floor where Jersey had been.
“What the hell?” my father roars as he joins my mother. Then he’s stomping the floor, his elbows flying up to his sides like he’s doing some kind of crazy chicken dance. “Goddammit, Jersey, you can’t set the damn hospital on fire like that! There are sick people in here! You want to burn the place down? Jesus Christ!”
Mick’s mouth is open, but he doesn’t seem worried. In fact, he looks more amused than anything. He hasn’t moved anything but his head.
Jersey’s struggling to get away from our mom. “I’m just playing a game, Dad!” He thrashes around some more, doing the sandbag move he perfected as a toddler, where he makes his legs go completely limp and his body twice as heavy. Trying to hold him up when he does that is impossible. Down to the floor he goes with a thump.
“No, sir,” says my mom, grabbing his leg as he hits the ground. “No, sir, no sir, no sir. You are staying right here with me.”
“I wanna be with Mickey Mouse!” Jersey yells. “I wanna be with Mickey Mouse! Let me go! Let me go, asshole!”
Everyone freezes. You could hear a pin drop in the room. But since there are no pins, we listen to Jersey’s ragged breathing instead.
My mom straightens up and glares at me, abandoning her efforts with Jersey.
“What?!” I say, probably too loudly. “What’d I do?”
She points at me. “You’re the one who taught him that filthy language.”
“Bullshit. Dad did.”
My father’s eyes bulge out of his head and his hands fly up in surrender when my mom twists around to give him the dagger-eyes. “Hey … he didn’t learn anything from any of us he hasn’t already seen on TV. You know that, Viv. Just relax.”
She throws her hands up to rest on her hips.
I roll my eyes, knowing the poodle is about to hit the fan. Cardinal Rule #1 with my mom: Never EVER tell her to relax.
“Don’t you dare, George. You know very well that Quinlan runs around the house all day with asshole-this and asshole-that and fuck-a-box-of-fuck-this and fuck-a-box-of-fuck-that. Her mouth is pure gutter talk.”
I’m laughing silently with my mouth completely open. My mom never cusses like that. It would be awesome if it weren’t so awful. Mick has slid a pillow out from under his head and put it over his face. It’s shaking with his laughter. My embarrassment is back, full force.
“Mom, holy shit, would you chillax?” I say. “We have someone else in the room with us right now and about a thousand more right outside that door.”
My mom slowly turns in my direction, her voice going dangerously low. “Did you just tell me to chillax?”
I cringe, pulling my head as far down into my shoulders as I can. Stretching the sheet up to my nose, I finally answer. “Maybe?”
She breathes in once. Twice. And then a third time, before she answers me. “Okay, fine. You all want me to chillax? To relax?” She twists her head around, making it look a little like some kind of alien is inside her trying to get out. It’s very creepy. I’m on pins and needles waiting for her next move. “Fine. I’m relaxed. And. I’m. Leaving.”