Hey Nostradamus! By Douglas Coupland

"Tell me."
"He said, 'Who are we to slap the human sin of vanity onto some poor flower that did nothing more than
be given a name?'"
"That's kind of nice."
"He also looked at the flowers at our wedding - anthuriums, ginger and birds-of-paradise - he said
afterward that he thought they were 'slutty.'"
"Oh."
The two women watched me enter the kitchen. Neither of them had any illusions. Mom said, "Here's
some orange juice. Your system's probably screaming for vitamin C."
"Jesus, Jason. Shave already. You could sharpen a hunting knife on your five o'clock shadow." Mom
placed a soup bowl onto the counter. To them it was nothing, but to me this moment was a brief taste of
heaven.
Barb asked my mom, "When did Reg start turning gonzo on you?"
"With religion?"
"Yeah."
"Maybe a year after Kent was born. There was no specific trigger. Jason, honey, use a napkin, I just
washed the floor."
"Overnight?"
"No. I remember his face hardening about the same time -his cheek muscles losing slackness. It was
probably something to do with serotonin. If I'd secretly dosed his coffee with Wellbutrin or another one
of these new drugs, we'd still be a functioning happy couple. But instead he just kept losing it and losing
it. By the time the kids started school, we were in separate beds. I was drinking big time by then. He
liked it because it kept me in one place, and because when I was drunk, he didn't need to speak to me.
Not like I wanted to speak with him."
* * *
Cell phone just rang. I have to go. Les says this week's check cleared, so why don't we go have a beer
to celebrate? It's11:00 a.m.
* * *
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