Monday, December 15, 2008

I can't see further than my own nose at this moment


My mother refers to the man who raped her as "that old fucker."
"What does he look like?" I ask.
"Like your father."
It was an unseasonably warm winters morning so I left my terry cloth bath robe untied, a sleepy stretched out white t-shirt clung absently around my tiny ribs.
"Should we tell someone?" I ask sincere wide eyes looking up from my oatmeal the tiny raisins always reminded me of a fat dog tick ready to pop.
My mother, my own flesh and blood. She was a beautiful woman who's only diet consisted of cigarettes and milky coffee. She was so unhealthy and always smelled like the bottom of a purse, bits of tobacco and perfume. Sometimes in the morning she smelled like vodka and mints. Like this morning.
Some mornings a health kick would find her and she would mix a protein shake that tasted like a reeses peanutbutter cup, chasing clear capsule vitamins down by the handful.
"If we tell someone then the entire damn town would know! That's embarrassing," Her gaze follows the length of the kitchen. She presses her temples and sighs.
"Lets just pretend it never happened." She decides annoyed at the conversation.
I watch my mother stride across the kitchen floor her callused feet clicking against the tile, fixing another pot of coffee.
I hear the toilet flush and a man's chesty cough.
"Goddammit! That's him!" My mother shouts slamming the coffee pot against the counter top not once but twice.
I see a tall man with a salt and pepper beard come into focus. I watch him slowly lace up his boots that he's kept neatly by the kitchen door since last night.
He looks in my direction, I quickly look down at my oatmeal.
"Howdy Ma'am." He greets me.
A smile reveals well kept dentures. I see no resembles to my real father.
I look to my mother who is watching him, tapping her feet impatiently.
"You! Would you get out already! Leave my daughter ALONE!" She shouts.
"Don't look at her! You're an old PERVERT!"
The man smiles and puts on his jacket.
"You're mother sure is one hell of a spitfire." He winks at me.
I steady my chin on the palm of my hands and watch my mother who is now shaking, swallow a handful of vitamins. A, B, D, E, and K struggle down her throat searching for some fatty tissue to absorb into. Finally my mothers face finds some color.


Monica said...

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Becca said...

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