putting an abrupt note of happiness in my voice.
“Hear what?” She turned the radio down. The weather report had given way to Fleetwood Mac‘s classic hit song, Dreams.
“It’s those kittens,” I said, “that keep coming up to the porch, looking for food.” For days, I had been feeding the kittens Bumble Bee tuna and tiny scraps of ham and salami, meant for sandwiches.
“What about them?” my mom asked. “The kittens are outside now?”
“I’m pretty sure they are.” I got up and peeked out the screen door. “Yup. There’s two of them out there. Can I give them some milk?”
“Okay.” She opened the cabinet and found a bowl. “But first, Billy, finish your breakfast. And I don’t want you near the street. You hear me?” Of course, she feared that the Good Humor truck might drive past. “You stay in the yard.”
“I will.” When I was through with my omelet, toast, and juice, I took the bowl of milk out to the porch. The two kittens, one was black and the other was ginger with stripes like a tiger, purred cutely and then chafed lovingly against my ankles.
“Billy, I’m not kidding around,” my mother warned again, now staring at me as I put the dish down on the cement. “I don’t even want to see you near the end of the driveway. In fact, I don’t even want you to leave the porch.”
I shook my head and frowned; as I watched, the kittens dip their miniature heads into the basin, and bravely begin to lap up the cold nourishment. I emphasize bravely because I think the cats sensed my mother’s agitation. “Mom, Nancy Sutcliffe doesn’t even work today,” I made known, wishing she would stop being so strict.
“She doesn’t?” My mom came outside, put her hands on her hips. “How do you know that?”
“Cause she told me.”
“What did she say?”
“She said that she won’t be back to driving the ice cream truck until tomorrow. Nancy was gonna pick me up.” Suddenly it dawned on me that that was an utterly stupid thing to say. At that moment, if my foot could fit in my mouth I would have shoved it in.
Right away, my mom’s relatively calm disposition went into a turbulent tailspin. “She really said that, huh, that she would pick you up?”
I hesitated.
“I’m talking to you, Billy; I asked if that was what she really said, that she would pick you up today?”
“Yes,” I responded fearfully.
“Nancy Sutcliffe specifically said that she was going to pick you up here tomorrow, at the house?”
I nodded; still I crouched down on my knees, petting the purring kittens. “Uh huh.”
“That’s just wonderful. What was that fucking pervert planning to do, pull up and beep the horn, and wait for you to come outside, as if you were her f-ing date? As if you were a twenty-five or thirty-year old man?”
I quivered, knowing that my mother had now been taken over by the bad lady. There was no doubt about that. The bad lady had simply shoved my mother‘s normal personality aside, like someone offensively pushing another person out of line at a store, or someone waiting in line for concerts tickets, etc., so that they could cut in front of them.
“No.”
“No what?” the bad lady snapped. “Nancy Slutttt cliffffe wasn’t planning to beep the horn?” She addressed me the way a hardhearted military sergeant might address a new recruit.
I could not help but become upset. My cautious voice cracked with emotion. “No! She never said anything about coming over here and beeping the horn. She wouldn’t do that. She never does. Never! Nancy just said that she would be back to work tomorrow and that, if I felt like hanging out with her, I should look for the ice cream truck then.”
“Look for the ice cream truck then.” the bad lady shook her head in pure disgust. “How convenient. That pervert. Slut!”
“Mom.”
“What?” She glared at me.
“Why do you keep calling Nancy a pervert and a slut?”
“Because that’s what she is.” The bad lady stamped her
“Hear what?” She turned the radio down. The weather report had given way to Fleetwood Mac‘s classic hit song, Dreams.
“It’s those kittens,” I said, “that keep coming up to the porch, looking for food.” For days, I had been feeding the kittens Bumble Bee tuna and tiny scraps of ham and salami, meant for sandwiches.
“What about them?” my mom asked. “The kittens are outside now?”
“I’m pretty sure they are.” I got up and peeked out the screen door. “Yup. There’s two of them out there. Can I give them some milk?”
“Okay.” She opened the cabinet and found a bowl. “But first, Billy, finish your breakfast. And I don’t want you near the street. You hear me?” Of course, she feared that the Good Humor truck might drive past. “You stay in the yard.”
“I will.” When I was through with my omelet, toast, and juice, I took the bowl of milk out to the porch. The two kittens, one was black and the other was ginger with stripes like a tiger, purred cutely and then chafed lovingly against my ankles.
“Billy, I’m not kidding around,” my mother warned again, now staring at me as I put the dish down on the cement. “I don’t even want to see you near the end of the driveway. In fact, I don’t even want you to leave the porch.”
I shook my head and frowned; as I watched, the kittens dip their miniature heads into the basin, and bravely begin to lap up the cold nourishment. I emphasize bravely because I think the cats sensed my mother’s agitation. “Mom, Nancy Sutcliffe doesn’t even work today,” I made known, wishing she would stop being so strict.
“She doesn’t?” My mom came outside, put her hands on her hips. “How do you know that?”
“Cause she told me.”
“What did she say?”
“She said that she won’t be back to driving the ice cream truck until tomorrow. Nancy was gonna pick me up.” Suddenly it dawned on me that that was an utterly stupid thing to say. At that moment, if my foot could fit in my mouth I would have shoved it in.
Right away, my mom’s relatively calm disposition went into a turbulent tailspin. “She really said that, huh, that she would pick you up?”
I hesitated.
“I’m talking to you, Billy; I asked if that was what she really said, that she would pick you up today?”
“Yes,” I responded fearfully.
“Nancy Sutcliffe specifically said that she was going to pick you up here tomorrow, at the house?”
I nodded; still I crouched down on my knees, petting the purring kittens. “Uh huh.”
“That’s just wonderful. What was that fucking pervert planning to do, pull up and beep the horn, and wait for you to come outside, as if you were her f-ing date? As if you were a twenty-five or thirty-year old man?”
I quivered, knowing that my mother had now been taken over by the bad lady. There was no doubt about that. The bad lady had simply shoved my mother‘s normal personality aside, like someone offensively pushing another person out of line at a store, or someone waiting in line for concerts tickets, etc., so that they could cut in front of them.
“No.”
“No what?” the bad lady snapped. “Nancy Slutttt cliffffe wasn’t planning to beep the horn?” She addressed me the way a hardhearted military sergeant might address a new recruit.
I could not help but become upset. My cautious voice cracked with emotion. “No! She never said anything about coming over here and beeping the horn. She wouldn’t do that. She never does. Never! Nancy just said that she would be back to work tomorrow and that, if I felt like hanging out with her, I should look for the ice cream truck then.”
“Look for the ice cream truck then.” the bad lady shook her head in pure disgust. “How convenient. That pervert. Slut!”
“Mom.”
“What?” She glared at me.
“Why do you keep calling Nancy a pervert and a slut?”
“Because that’s what she is.” The bad lady stamped her
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