06.06.2017 Views

Theft by Finding - David Sedaris

Create successful ePaper yourself

Turn your PDF publications into a flip-book with our unique Google optimized e-Paper software.

those peach-and-Prosecco cocktails. These were followed <strong>by</strong> three tallboys. Yikes. You’d think an<br />

adult would know better: Beer on wine, you’re fine. Wine on beer, stand clear. But eleven Prosecco<br />

cocktails should not precede anything, not even a twelfth.<br />

November 14, 1991<br />

Raleigh<br />

Mom died last night, suddenly, of pneumonia brought on <strong>by</strong> her chemotherapy. Amy called to tell<br />

me, and now we’re all in Raleigh. Dad gave us the option of seeing her laid out at the funeral home,<br />

but I was afraid to go. We all were. How strange to be in her house and see her things—the halfworked<br />

crossword puzzle, her mail and stockings. She didn’t expect to die yesterday, did she?<br />

When it happened, Hugh and I were in our kitchen in New York. He was making manicotti and<br />

talking about a wooden chicken he’d bought when I got socked <strong>by</strong> the weirdest feeling. I thought that<br />

Hugh was going to die, and I must have said something because he accused me of being dramatic. I<br />

can’t believe this has happened.<br />

November 21, 1991<br />

New York<br />

The other night we were visited <strong>by</strong> Father Regis, the new priest at the Greek Orthodox church. He<br />

came to get an idea of what our mother was like and took a cue from the unfinished thousand-piece<br />

puzzle spread out across the dining-room table. For the past few days we’ve been working on it—just<br />

something to do with our hands as we sat around talking. “Oh,” the priest said when he saw us. “I see<br />

you’re finishing this in memory of your dear departed mother, God rest her soul.”<br />

He made it sound so hokey.<br />

November 22, 1991<br />

New York<br />

I had elf training today, from one to four. The filmstrips about safety and theft I remember from last<br />

year, but there was a new one about shoplifting narrated <strong>by</strong> a guy in prison. The walls of his cell were<br />

scarred and ugly, and after he spoke we heard from the cashier who had seen him steal and alerted<br />

security, there<strong>by</strong> earning a $500 bonus.<br />

For most of the day I sat beside Richard, whom I met last year. He’s older than me but lives with<br />

his parents. All his talk is about cute guys.<br />

November 23, 1991<br />

New York

Hooray! Your file is uploaded and ready to be published.

Saved successfully!

Ooh no, something went wrong!