carton.
“Is there any left?” I knew there was, having drank a mouthful of juice when I had first woke up.
“Sure, you’re in luck. There’s plenty left.” She poured me a glass. “What do you want on your toast, butter or jelly?”
“Jelly.”
“Grape, strawberry?”
“Grape.”
She appeared to be somewhat displeased when I abandoned the main course and started to gobble down the toast.
“What’s the matter?” my mother asked, putting the jar of Smuckers back inside the refrigerator. “Don’t you want the rest of your omelet?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna eat it.” Why wouldn’t I? The omelet tasted great.
“Billy, I specifically gave you the toast so that you could eat that after you’re done with your eggs.” Why would I have to wait until after I finished the omelet? Wasn’t the toast part of breakfast?
“Give me that!” With a fast, impulsive hand, she snatched what was left of the jelly treat from my mouth, and put the half-chewed piece of toast on a separate dish. That made me uneasy. Her ripping the toast from my lips like that, created a tsunami of tension.
Nevertheless, just then, the mood changed quickly, when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
A few seconds elapsed off the clock. “Who is it?” I question.
“I don’t know.” Frowning, my mother gazed skeptically at the receiver. “Hello.”
“They’re not saying anything?”
“No. All I hear is the sound of someone breathing . . . Is there anyone there?”
More seconds ticked by.
“They’re still not saying anything?”
“Nope.” Confused and agitated, she hung up.
True to form, I couldn’t help but speculate whether or not that might have been Nancy. I was thinking that maybe she might have wanted to set things right. That perhaps, last night, like my mom, she had done a lot of thinking. Who knows, maybe Nancy had gotten drunk as well. If she did, it wouldn’t surprise me. In many movies, it often seemed to me that adults with serious problems to contend with liked to hit the bottle and chain-smoke cigarettes.
“Whoever it was,” my mother explained, “they blocked there number. Nothing came up on caller I.D.”
“Maybe it was Rudy.”
“No. Rudy wouldn’t block his number. It was a crank call.”
“Oh.” I could tell that she too suspected that it might have been Nancy. The distrustful glare in her eyes made that apparent.
On the counter, beside the toaster that Rudy had bought us, there was a Sony boom box. My mom clicked it on. Right away, we heard the local weatherman say that it would be another hot day in Ohio, sunny, that sweaty heat again. On days like this, I wished we had a swimming pool. I was thankful that we now had the air conditioners, yet a dunk in a pool would have been heaven.
“No way, it’s gonna be ninety degrees this afternoon again,” my mom grumbles, using a placemat to fan herself. “When on earth is it going to rain to get rid of some of this oppressive humidity?”
“I don’t know,” I said, sipping my orange juice.
She began to polish the counter with a wet sponge. “It hasn’t rained in almost two damn weeks. You see the grass out front. It’s turning brown.” That was definitely true. The lawn, due to the dry, desert-like weather of late, had in certain sections, become as bronzed as hay.
“Do you want me to turn the sprinkler on?”
“No. We’re not allowed to use the water today. Town restriction.”
“Oh.”
All of a sudden, from outside, I heard a piercing meow. I knew what it was. A bunch of stray cats often wandered up and down the street, sneaking through people‘s smelly garbage cans. A few of the cats were kittens. Earlier in the week, I had asked my mother if I could please take one in; give the kitten a home. As of yet, she had not given me a definitive ’yes or no’ answer. She had informed me that she would have to think about it.
To try to get her mind off Nancy; I figured I would bring this up now.
“Did you hear that?” I asked,
“Is there any left?” I knew there was, having drank a mouthful of juice when I had first woke up.
“Sure, you’re in luck. There’s plenty left.” She poured me a glass. “What do you want on your toast, butter or jelly?”
“Jelly.”
“Grape, strawberry?”
“Grape.”
She appeared to be somewhat displeased when I abandoned the main course and started to gobble down the toast.
“What’s the matter?” my mother asked, putting the jar of Smuckers back inside the refrigerator. “Don’t you want the rest of your omelet?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna eat it.” Why wouldn’t I? The omelet tasted great.
“Billy, I specifically gave you the toast so that you could eat that after you’re done with your eggs.” Why would I have to wait until after I finished the omelet? Wasn’t the toast part of breakfast?
“Give me that!” With a fast, impulsive hand, she snatched what was left of the jelly treat from my mouth, and put the half-chewed piece of toast on a separate dish. That made me uneasy. Her ripping the toast from my lips like that, created a tsunami of tension.
Nevertheless, just then, the mood changed quickly, when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
A few seconds elapsed off the clock. “Who is it?” I question.
“I don’t know.” Frowning, my mother gazed skeptically at the receiver. “Hello.”
“They’re not saying anything?”
“No. All I hear is the sound of someone breathing . . . Is there anyone there?”
More seconds ticked by.
“They’re still not saying anything?”
“Nope.” Confused and agitated, she hung up.
True to form, I couldn’t help but speculate whether or not that might have been Nancy. I was thinking that maybe she might have wanted to set things right. That perhaps, last night, like my mom, she had done a lot of thinking. Who knows, maybe Nancy had gotten drunk as well. If she did, it wouldn’t surprise me. In many movies, it often seemed to me that adults with serious problems to contend with liked to hit the bottle and chain-smoke cigarettes.
“Whoever it was,” my mother explained, “they blocked there number. Nothing came up on caller I.D.”
“Maybe it was Rudy.”
“No. Rudy wouldn’t block his number. It was a crank call.”
“Oh.” I could tell that she too suspected that it might have been Nancy. The distrustful glare in her eyes made that apparent.
On the counter, beside the toaster that Rudy had bought us, there was a Sony boom box. My mom clicked it on. Right away, we heard the local weatherman say that it would be another hot day in Ohio, sunny, that sweaty heat again. On days like this, I wished we had a swimming pool. I was thankful that we now had the air conditioners, yet a dunk in a pool would have been heaven.
“No way, it’s gonna be ninety degrees this afternoon again,” my mom grumbles, using a placemat to fan herself. “When on earth is it going to rain to get rid of some of this oppressive humidity?”
“I don’t know,” I said, sipping my orange juice.
She began to polish the counter with a wet sponge. “It hasn’t rained in almost two damn weeks. You see the grass out front. It’s turning brown.” That was definitely true. The lawn, due to the dry, desert-like weather of late, had in certain sections, become as bronzed as hay.
“Do you want me to turn the sprinkler on?”
“No. We’re not allowed to use the water today. Town restriction.”
“Oh.”
All of a sudden, from outside, I heard a piercing meow. I knew what it was. A bunch of stray cats often wandered up and down the street, sneaking through people‘s smelly garbage cans. A few of the cats were kittens. Earlier in the week, I had asked my mother if I could please take one in; give the kitten a home. As of yet, she had not given me a definitive ’yes or no’ answer. She had informed me that she would have to think about it.
To try to get her mind off Nancy; I figured I would bring this up now.
“Did you hear that?” I asked,
Similar Books
