American River Review 2022 - copy - Flipbook - Page 44
“Even when he did what he did to Pa,
I thought it was because he loved me
in his way. Never thought he’d trade
me out for a box full of money. How
fucked up is that?”
I could’ve told her I stole the
money, that I snuck out last night
and taped Blaze’s cigar box to Ryker’s
truck. That I kept some cash for
myself so we could get on our feet,
maybe give Gram a proper funeral. I
got the money hid good and I’ll dole
it out in bits. Reckon I’ll be finding
cash in coffee cans buried out back or
down by the creek. She’ll dig around
for a while, searching for more but,
with all that’s happened, it’ll be weeks
before she stops drinking her sweet
teas and gets to thinking straight.
Ma got that unseeing look and
stared at the empty rocking chair.
“Never could pick a decent man.”
I felt something brave brewing
inside me. “Ma, you got to stop using
men for mirrors. What they think
don’t matter. Don’t matter if it’s Blaze,
Ryker or Mr. Higgins over at the Piggly Wiggly.”
I felt her flinch, like she’d been
stung. I waited for her to get mad, but
I wasn’t afraid of losing her to those
dark waters no more. Some things
just need saying and it don’t matter
how crazy it makes a person.
She pulled her hands inside her
sleeves and stuck them up under
her armpits like a chill done passed
through her. She chewed on her
bottom lip, her face red and splotchy.
We stayed that way a bit, staring at
each other. I cleared my throat, sat up
a little taller.
I ain’t never thought too much
about what could be, because we
was always chasing something. Ma
chasing after her beauty, chasing
after men, chasing after some dumbluck dream that she was thinking
would come our way and make things
right. But all it ever added up to was
a bunch of wasted time. Gram was
right. We got to get our act together.
And if I got to hurt Ma a little to do it;
if I got to let Ma believe Ryker chose
the money over her, then so be it.
The fridge groaned and Ma sighed
and I could see she was taking in the
rips in the linoleum where she let
Blaze practice knife throwing; the
beer spills on the couch that come all
those times she let Ryker get wasted;
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the water stains on the ceiling from
the last two winter’s worth of storms
that she swore she’d get fixed.
The rumble my stomach made filled
the room. She didn’t as much as look
my way and I knew then she was fixing to start in on needing to lay down.
“You’re gonna be too busy to help
clean up your mama’s messes,” she
said, toying with her hair like she was
some kind of school girl.
“Why don’t you cook me up some of
them taters?” I said, keeping my eyes
on hers until she got up.
She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. Chewed
on her lip a bit more and shook her
head. “My, but if you ain’t growing
up. Already becoming a man.”
We let that bit of dirty laundry hang
in the air between us. I wasn’t nothing like Ryker or Blaze or any of them
others, but there was one thing I did
come to know: Ma needed to be kept
on a short leash if I was gonna have
any kind of life. She broke our stare,
started working at a hangnail with
her thumb. “Won’t be long before
you’ll have yourself a part-time job
and a sweet little girlfriend. Leave
your old mama to fend for herself.”
For maybe the first time, we both
knew she was right.