Peter's to pick him up and before Peter can
lie
for him, his mother tells me Curtis wasn't ever there?" She smacked Curtis in the headâreally smacked him.
"Curtis?" Dad said in a quiet voice. "You want to explain this?"
"Explain! He doesn't need to explain it." Mom's face was deep red, like that time she got so mad about us not clearing the table. She jabbed her finger at Curtis. "You were supposed to be the easy one! You are not supposed to be pulling this garbage! Sneaking around, lying to us, cutting practice, fooling around with girlsâyou're in eighth grade!"
"Mom, come onâ"
Mom spun on me. "You! You think I don't know about you and Brian? You can't keep your hands off him! You're going to end up pregnant, I just know it."
I couldn't believe Mom was talking like thisâabout
me!
In front of Curtis!
"I have been taking care of this family for twenty-five years and I am sick of it! You hear me? Sick! One of these days I am going to take my suitcase and my paycheck and I am going to
leave!
" She stomped into the living room and tossed her purse on the coffee table, it sounded like, from the crash of change going everywhere. "Goddammit!" she cursed, which she never does, and then a second later she screamed so loud that the house shook right down to its foundation.
11. Mother Problems
M OM WAS BENT over the coffee table, frozen in the middle of picking up her purse. "Oh, God," she gasped. "Don't touch me." She was panting in pain, not moving one single tiny muscle.
We'd all raced in, of course, and now we stood there trying to figure out what to do, because I at least was thinking she couldn't stay like that, not forever, and Curtis looked so ready to die of guilt that I had to pat him a little. Dad was almost green. Cows, sure, he can stick his arm up a cow's butt to pull out a calf, and wipe them both off with his own T-shirt and not blink an eye, but when it comes to human sickness, especially in his own family, he's no good at all.
"Mom," I said loud and slowly, though she was standing right there, "tell us what you want."
"My back ... I'm out for the count."
At last I came over and took the purse strap out of her hand, and then with all three of us working and her barking out warnings, we got her down on the floor. Where she lay with her face all white, still trying not to move.
"Guess I better start dinner," said Dad, scooting right out of there. Curtis hunkered in the corner looking miserable, and I guess Mom hadn't forgiven him yet because she barely glanced at him, she just asked me in a non-muscle-moving way for some Motrin. Which was easy enough but I had a heck of a time until I found a bendy straw all covered in dust in the back of the junk drawer, but I rinsed it off figuring this wasn't the time to be picky. And I got her the remote so she could watch TV at least. Then she had to go to the bathroom.
That took about half an hour, getting her up, which meant rolling her on her side, then her going on all fours and standing up really carefully, me trying not to use my right arm because that sure wouldn't help my AC heal, Mom almost crying because it hurt so much. Then we had to do everything in reverse to get her back down as I thought to myself that maybe she should hold back a bit on her beverage consumption.
The whole time I felt sick inside. Not just because of my shoulder and how much I was trying to protect it. Not because Curtis of all people was running around with a girl and he wasn't even in high school. Not because I couldn't help worrying Mom's back was probably going to cost us money when we didn't have two pennies to spare. And not just because Mom was hurt, and in a lot of pain, which was more than enough reason to feel sick in and of itself.
No, the reason I felt sick at heart was because now I couldn't go to Brian's. It was completely out of the question. I'd like to say that I came to this conclusion because I love my mother so much and I knew that no one else in
lie
for him, his mother tells me Curtis wasn't ever there?" She smacked Curtis in the headâreally smacked him.
"Curtis?" Dad said in a quiet voice. "You want to explain this?"
"Explain! He doesn't need to explain it." Mom's face was deep red, like that time she got so mad about us not clearing the table. She jabbed her finger at Curtis. "You were supposed to be the easy one! You are not supposed to be pulling this garbage! Sneaking around, lying to us, cutting practice, fooling around with girlsâyou're in eighth grade!"
"Mom, come onâ"
Mom spun on me. "You! You think I don't know about you and Brian? You can't keep your hands off him! You're going to end up pregnant, I just know it."
I couldn't believe Mom was talking like thisâabout
me!
In front of Curtis!
"I have been taking care of this family for twenty-five years and I am sick of it! You hear me? Sick! One of these days I am going to take my suitcase and my paycheck and I am going to
leave!
" She stomped into the living room and tossed her purse on the coffee table, it sounded like, from the crash of change going everywhere. "Goddammit!" she cursed, which she never does, and then a second later she screamed so loud that the house shook right down to its foundation.
11. Mother Problems
M OM WAS BENT over the coffee table, frozen in the middle of picking up her purse. "Oh, God," she gasped. "Don't touch me." She was panting in pain, not moving one single tiny muscle.
We'd all raced in, of course, and now we stood there trying to figure out what to do, because I at least was thinking she couldn't stay like that, not forever, and Curtis looked so ready to die of guilt that I had to pat him a little. Dad was almost green. Cows, sure, he can stick his arm up a cow's butt to pull out a calf, and wipe them both off with his own T-shirt and not blink an eye, but when it comes to human sickness, especially in his own family, he's no good at all.
"Mom," I said loud and slowly, though she was standing right there, "tell us what you want."
"My back ... I'm out for the count."
At last I came over and took the purse strap out of her hand, and then with all three of us working and her barking out warnings, we got her down on the floor. Where she lay with her face all white, still trying not to move.
"Guess I better start dinner," said Dad, scooting right out of there. Curtis hunkered in the corner looking miserable, and I guess Mom hadn't forgiven him yet because she barely glanced at him, she just asked me in a non-muscle-moving way for some Motrin. Which was easy enough but I had a heck of a time until I found a bendy straw all covered in dust in the back of the junk drawer, but I rinsed it off figuring this wasn't the time to be picky. And I got her the remote so she could watch TV at least. Then she had to go to the bathroom.
That took about half an hour, getting her up, which meant rolling her on her side, then her going on all fours and standing up really carefully, me trying not to use my right arm because that sure wouldn't help my AC heal, Mom almost crying because it hurt so much. Then we had to do everything in reverse to get her back down as I thought to myself that maybe she should hold back a bit on her beverage consumption.
The whole time I felt sick inside. Not just because of my shoulder and how much I was trying to protect it. Not because Curtis of all people was running around with a girl and he wasn't even in high school. Not because I couldn't help worrying Mom's back was probably going to cost us money when we didn't have two pennies to spare. And not just because Mom was hurt, and in a lot of pain, which was more than enough reason to feel sick in and of itself.
No, the reason I felt sick at heart was because now I couldn't go to Brian's. It was completely out of the question. I'd like to say that I came to this conclusion because I love my mother so much and I knew that no one else in
Similar Books
