EbowTheLetter
Bluelight Crew
The Corpse in Black greeted me as I walked through the door. The little rat dog ran around my legs as I tried to find I seat. At least this one wasn’t named after me. Shifting my eyes back and forth across the kitchen, not letting them linger on her for too long, I listened to the whiskey soaked voice wrap itself around the scene. She got up to hug me, and I hugged back. Well, I made it seem like I was hugging back. Just to ease her mind. Just to make things a little easier for myself. She said she could tell I had been going to the gym. It could’ve been a lie. She’s my mother after all.
I sat down and tried to ignore the runt trying to scramble up to my lap. I don’t like small dogs. I find them useless, especially at an evolutionary level. She was talking to the dog. Not just giving commands. She was talking to it. It seemed almost as interested in what she had to say as I was. He was probably just in it for the food. I felt trapped. A stranger’s house. Perhaps it hadn’t really hit me that the family house was gone. Sure, the family home had been dead and gone for years, but its shell stood there to invoke memories even now. It was empty now, or maybe the new family had moved in. I hope it will be better for them. It couldn’t get much worse.
Finality. That’s the word. I would never set foot in that house again. I would never slide down the hallway in my socks. I would never make an armada of Lego spaceships under the stairs, to fight my brother’s fleet across the cellar floor. I would never have a birthday dinner on the deck, after a high summer swim. All of it was gone. Maybe this was my wake up call.
I could feel the anger building. The red creeping into my vision drowned out most of what she was saying. Then she said she wanted to talk to me about the phone call. My eyes shot directly to hers. Ok. We’ll talk. So she talked. She told me she didn’t want to have nasty phone conversations like she’d had with my father. She told me she felt I was disrespectful. I bit my tongue not to laugh. I waited until she finished talking, and then I spoke. I told her that I felt, and still felt, that her calling me up to tell me I was ungrateful was bullshit. There was no other word for it. After a moment, she switched up her stance. She didn’t know she had called me ungrateful. Six times. I bit my tongue and let it go.
This was the game. She asked if I thought it was about the money. What else could it be about? She said there were no strings. The red flared, fueled by a lie. I bit my tongue and let it go. She said she was getting up there, and I was getting older. She wanted to be close. Said she didn’t talk much, hid it from me when she was feeling low, because she knew I didn’t like hearing about. Guilt? I don’t think so. She knew I would listen. She said she wanted to be close. I bit my tongue and didn’t say I wanted to hit her.
She wanted to be a part of my life. She wanted a phone call a week. She said that’s all she wanted. I bit my tongue and didn’t ask why she tried to leave so many times.
As I left, she was spouting off that she was trying to be independent again. I told her that was great. I looked in her eyes and didn’t see a glimpse of the woman she was. A glimpse of the woman that raised me to be respectful to women. She died when I was eight. And this woman, I just can’t be respectful to. I bit my tongue and didn’t show that I left almost crying.
I sat down and tried to ignore the runt trying to scramble up to my lap. I don’t like small dogs. I find them useless, especially at an evolutionary level. She was talking to the dog. Not just giving commands. She was talking to it. It seemed almost as interested in what she had to say as I was. He was probably just in it for the food. I felt trapped. A stranger’s house. Perhaps it hadn’t really hit me that the family house was gone. Sure, the family home had been dead and gone for years, but its shell stood there to invoke memories even now. It was empty now, or maybe the new family had moved in. I hope it will be better for them. It couldn’t get much worse.
Finality. That’s the word. I would never set foot in that house again. I would never slide down the hallway in my socks. I would never make an armada of Lego spaceships under the stairs, to fight my brother’s fleet across the cellar floor. I would never have a birthday dinner on the deck, after a high summer swim. All of it was gone. Maybe this was my wake up call.
I could feel the anger building. The red creeping into my vision drowned out most of what she was saying. Then she said she wanted to talk to me about the phone call. My eyes shot directly to hers. Ok. We’ll talk. So she talked. She told me she didn’t want to have nasty phone conversations like she’d had with my father. She told me she felt I was disrespectful. I bit my tongue not to laugh. I waited until she finished talking, and then I spoke. I told her that I felt, and still felt, that her calling me up to tell me I was ungrateful was bullshit. There was no other word for it. After a moment, she switched up her stance. She didn’t know she had called me ungrateful. Six times. I bit my tongue and let it go.
This was the game. She asked if I thought it was about the money. What else could it be about? She said there were no strings. The red flared, fueled by a lie. I bit my tongue and let it go. She said she was getting up there, and I was getting older. She wanted to be close. Said she didn’t talk much, hid it from me when she was feeling low, because she knew I didn’t like hearing about. Guilt? I don’t think so. She knew I would listen. She said she wanted to be close. I bit my tongue and didn’t say I wanted to hit her.
She wanted to be a part of my life. She wanted a phone call a week. She said that’s all she wanted. I bit my tongue and didn’t ask why she tried to leave so many times.
As I left, she was spouting off that she was trying to be independent again. I told her that was great. I looked in her eyes and didn’t see a glimpse of the woman she was. A glimpse of the woman that raised me to be respectful to women. She died when I was eight. And this woman, I just can’t be respectful to. I bit my tongue and didn’t show that I left almost crying.
