Yet another finger squeeze and then, “Mara, baby, tell…me…about…your…Mom.”
My head tipped to the side and my eyes narrowed. “You’re very stubborn.”
“Tell me about your Mom.”
“And annoying.”
“Tell me about your Mom.”
“And bossy.”
“Mara, your Mom.”
“And you can be a jerk.”
“Mara –”
I rolled my eyes and said to the ceiling, “Jeez, all right, I’ll tell you about my Mom.”
This was not me giving in. This was my new strategy. I decided that maybe he should know about my Mom. Maybe, even though it was clear he was always alert, very insightful, often figured me out and already knew a lot about me, maybe he was somehow blind to my Two Point Five-edness.
So I decided to let him in on it.
I took another sip of my frizzante, put the glass on the table and launched in, not looking into his eyes, finding anywhere to look but him as I re-colored the Mara he thought me to be.
“My Mom’s a drunk. So’s Aunt Lulamae. Functioning alcoholics. They smoke, cigarettes and pot. They carouse. They party. They’re both in their fifties now and even though I haven’t spoken to or seen either one of them in over a decade, except our loving reunion at the store, I suspect this behavior hasn’t changed.”
“It’s not good your Mom and aunt are functioning alcoholics, Mara, but none of that is really that bad,” Mitch pointed out.
My eyes went to his beautiful ones. So brown, so warm, so deep. Fathomless. I wanted to drown in them, get pulled under, swim in his gaze for the rest of my life.
Instead, I pulled in a soft breath, steeled myself and I gave to him all he needed to understand why he was not for the likes of me.
“My first living memory is watching my mother ha**ng s*x on the couch in our trailer with a hairy truck driver.”
Mitch’s gaze grew intense.
“She knew I was there,” I added.
Mitch’s fingers spasmed in mine.
“She didn’t stop even after she saw me,” I continued.
“Jesus, sweetheart,” Mitch murmured.
“I walked out when she was giving him a blowjob and I finally wandered back to my room when he started doing her doggie-style.”
Mitch’s jaw got hard.
“I remember every second,” I whispered. “It’s burned into my brain.”
Mitch sucked in breath through his nose.
“I was four,” I finished.
He closed his eyes. I thought I knew what this meant so I ignored the brutal clutch that suddenly had hold of my heart, squeezing the life out of me. I looked away and took another sip of my drink.
Keeping my eyes on anything but him, I went on, “I don’t know who my father is because my mother doesn’t know who my father is. I grew up in a small town. Everyone in that town knew about Mom and Aunt Lulamae so everyone in that town thought certain things about me. Parents, kids, teachers, everyone. Parents and teachers thought I was trash and they treated me like trash. Not even when I was young did they treat me any differently. I was tarred with her brush from the minute I entered this world and I knew nothing different every breath I took in it. Parents didn’t let their daughters come over to my house or me go over to their daughters’. Teachers barely even looked at me. When I got older, boys assumed I was easy. This was not fun because it was difficult to convince boys who thought you were easy that you were not easy. Therefore after a few very not fun dates, I stopped dating. I had two friends, my cousin Bill and a girl named Lynette whose parents were the only parents in town who were nice to me.”
When I took in a breath, Mitch urged on another finger squeeze, “Look at me.”
I didn’t look at him because I was certain what I would see. And I didn’t want to see it.
But I did keep talking.
“Aunt Lulamae had been married to Bill’s Dad but they got divorced and he stuck around town. Their divorce was bitter and it was ugly. And before they split up, it was loud and their dysfunction and hatred played out for everyone in town to see, in their trailer, outside their trailer, in Mom’s trailer, in bars, on sidewalks. And after they split up, it went on just the same. Bill’s sister has another father but he didn’t even stick around to see her born. Bill had the same reputation as me and, when I was young, I felt it was the two of us against the world so I latched on because I needed somebody. As he got older, he responded differently than me to all that was happening. He was a couple of years older than me and I got caught in that because I was young and stupid. I didn’t realize that what I was doing was solidifying in everyone’s mind that I was just like Melbamae and Lulamae Hanover. But it was more. Being with Bill meant not being around them and I hated to be around them so I escaped any way I could.”
I took another sip of my drink and Mitch gave my hand another squeeze and a gentle tug.
“Mara, sweetheart, look at me,” he called softly.
I still didn’t look at him as I set my glass down and continued my story.
“It was Lynette who saved me, her and her parents. All through senior year she told me I had to get away but I knew in my heart I’d never get away. I knew I was destined to have some crappy job making just above minimum wage and living in a trailer, just like my Mom, just like Aunt Lulamae. And I’d live in that town knowing everyone looked down on me. But for graduation, Lynette’s parents gave me an old car but it was one that worked really well because Lynette’s uncle was a mechanic and they also gave me a thousand dollars.”
My eyes slid across his face so fast I couldn’t register his expression and I kept on going but in a whisper.
“It was a nice thing to do. No one had ever been that nice to me, that generous. The tank was filled up, they had a cooler in it filled with pop, made up sandwiches in Ziploc bags and candy bars and Lynette, her Dad and Mom told me to get in that car and go. So I packed up everything I owned, some clothes, my music, that was everything I owned, and I drove. I got on I-80 and headed west. The minute I hit Denver, the second I saw the Front Range, I knew this was the place for me. The city was huge, no one here knew me and the mountains were beautiful and I wanted to see that beauty every day. I didn’t have much beauty in my life so it seemed a good idea to be somewhere that I could see beauty every day. So I stayed.” I sucked in a deep breath and ended my story with, “And, since you looked into me, you know the rest.”
My head tipped to the side and my eyes narrowed. “You’re very stubborn.”
“Tell me about your Mom.”
“And annoying.”
“Tell me about your Mom.”
“And bossy.”
“Mara, your Mom.”
“And you can be a jerk.”
“Mara –”
I rolled my eyes and said to the ceiling, “Jeez, all right, I’ll tell you about my Mom.”
This was not me giving in. This was my new strategy. I decided that maybe he should know about my Mom. Maybe, even though it was clear he was always alert, very insightful, often figured me out and already knew a lot about me, maybe he was somehow blind to my Two Point Five-edness.
So I decided to let him in on it.
I took another sip of my frizzante, put the glass on the table and launched in, not looking into his eyes, finding anywhere to look but him as I re-colored the Mara he thought me to be.
“My Mom’s a drunk. So’s Aunt Lulamae. Functioning alcoholics. They smoke, cigarettes and pot. They carouse. They party. They’re both in their fifties now and even though I haven’t spoken to or seen either one of them in over a decade, except our loving reunion at the store, I suspect this behavior hasn’t changed.”
“It’s not good your Mom and aunt are functioning alcoholics, Mara, but none of that is really that bad,” Mitch pointed out.
My eyes went to his beautiful ones. So brown, so warm, so deep. Fathomless. I wanted to drown in them, get pulled under, swim in his gaze for the rest of my life.
Instead, I pulled in a soft breath, steeled myself and I gave to him all he needed to understand why he was not for the likes of me.
“My first living memory is watching my mother ha**ng s*x on the couch in our trailer with a hairy truck driver.”
Mitch’s gaze grew intense.
“She knew I was there,” I added.
Mitch’s fingers spasmed in mine.
“She didn’t stop even after she saw me,” I continued.
“Jesus, sweetheart,” Mitch murmured.
“I walked out when she was giving him a blowjob and I finally wandered back to my room when he started doing her doggie-style.”
Mitch’s jaw got hard.
“I remember every second,” I whispered. “It’s burned into my brain.”
Mitch sucked in breath through his nose.
“I was four,” I finished.
He closed his eyes. I thought I knew what this meant so I ignored the brutal clutch that suddenly had hold of my heart, squeezing the life out of me. I looked away and took another sip of my drink.
Keeping my eyes on anything but him, I went on, “I don’t know who my father is because my mother doesn’t know who my father is. I grew up in a small town. Everyone in that town knew about Mom and Aunt Lulamae so everyone in that town thought certain things about me. Parents, kids, teachers, everyone. Parents and teachers thought I was trash and they treated me like trash. Not even when I was young did they treat me any differently. I was tarred with her brush from the minute I entered this world and I knew nothing different every breath I took in it. Parents didn’t let their daughters come over to my house or me go over to their daughters’. Teachers barely even looked at me. When I got older, boys assumed I was easy. This was not fun because it was difficult to convince boys who thought you were easy that you were not easy. Therefore after a few very not fun dates, I stopped dating. I had two friends, my cousin Bill and a girl named Lynette whose parents were the only parents in town who were nice to me.”
When I took in a breath, Mitch urged on another finger squeeze, “Look at me.”
I didn’t look at him because I was certain what I would see. And I didn’t want to see it.
But I did keep talking.
“Aunt Lulamae had been married to Bill’s Dad but they got divorced and he stuck around town. Their divorce was bitter and it was ugly. And before they split up, it was loud and their dysfunction and hatred played out for everyone in town to see, in their trailer, outside their trailer, in Mom’s trailer, in bars, on sidewalks. And after they split up, it went on just the same. Bill’s sister has another father but he didn’t even stick around to see her born. Bill had the same reputation as me and, when I was young, I felt it was the two of us against the world so I latched on because I needed somebody. As he got older, he responded differently than me to all that was happening. He was a couple of years older than me and I got caught in that because I was young and stupid. I didn’t realize that what I was doing was solidifying in everyone’s mind that I was just like Melbamae and Lulamae Hanover. But it was more. Being with Bill meant not being around them and I hated to be around them so I escaped any way I could.”
I took another sip of my drink and Mitch gave my hand another squeeze and a gentle tug.
“Mara, sweetheart, look at me,” he called softly.
I still didn’t look at him as I set my glass down and continued my story.
“It was Lynette who saved me, her and her parents. All through senior year she told me I had to get away but I knew in my heart I’d never get away. I knew I was destined to have some crappy job making just above minimum wage and living in a trailer, just like my Mom, just like Aunt Lulamae. And I’d live in that town knowing everyone looked down on me. But for graduation, Lynette’s parents gave me an old car but it was one that worked really well because Lynette’s uncle was a mechanic and they also gave me a thousand dollars.”
My eyes slid across his face so fast I couldn’t register his expression and I kept on going but in a whisper.
“It was a nice thing to do. No one had ever been that nice to me, that generous. The tank was filled up, they had a cooler in it filled with pop, made up sandwiches in Ziploc bags and candy bars and Lynette, her Dad and Mom told me to get in that car and go. So I packed up everything I owned, some clothes, my music, that was everything I owned, and I drove. I got on I-80 and headed west. The minute I hit Denver, the second I saw the Front Range, I knew this was the place for me. The city was huge, no one here knew me and the mountains were beautiful and I wanted to see that beauty every day. I didn’t have much beauty in my life so it seemed a good idea to be somewhere that I could see beauty every day. So I stayed.” I sucked in a deep breath and ended my story with, “And, since you looked into me, you know the rest.”
