they’re for.
“Three minutes,” I warn. “Don’t get caught in the dry with a head full of bubbles.”
She hoists up an arm that appears to be covered with sawdust. “I’ve got more dead skin than you’ve got ugly. Give me another one of those things. Three minutes isn’t even long enough to sand my forehead.”
I tell her, “just this once,” then when I hear the water start I put all my remaining ration cards into a front-zip stomach purse designed to prohibit pick pocketing. I bought the purse for travel, specifically for when Brady and I will honeymoon in Rome.
While Mother’s in the shower, I sign on to let Brady know that I’ve unfrozen her.
FluidTransfer69: U guys catching up?
I’m a sucker for simplicity and would rather not explain that since waking, all Mother has really done is fully deplete my living quarters and put me in a choke-hold.
CargoBabe:
Yes.
That night I decide that if things are going to move forward emotionally with Mother, it is I who will need to instigate the healing process. I watch on as she uses my fold-down dinette table to practice punching through wood.
She needs no practice.
“Mother, when you killed Father, that really hurt me. Especially the having to watch it.”
“I didn’t tie you up and glue your eyes open.”
This is true. Mother has a way of making everyone else seem in the wrong.
“Did you miss me? All those years you were frozen?”
Mother’s left cheek is somewhat illuminated by the moon, which is visible across the windshield. She’s sweaty and her cheeks are pink with exertion. I watch as her expression remains unchanged while her fist sails through four solid inches of oak.
It occurs to me that we’re now the same age. In fact, she might be a little younger. Despite her discoloration from freezing, I have to admit that her features are beautiful. It’s not something she passed on.
“Mother? Because I missed you. Sometimes I was so mad at you that I told myself I didn’t miss you. I even swore that I hated you, but inside I knew that was never true, no matter how much I wanted it to be.”
“I was frozen, nitwit. You can’t miss people while you’re frozen.”
In my bunk I pull the covers up over my head and wonder if my relationship with Brady is strong enough to accelerate—to the point of me seeing his face, but also to us meeting and perhaps cohabitating.
Mother could maybe not come with me.
The next morning I pop the question to Brady.
Cargobabe:
I know this is sudden, but I’ve been through a lot in the past four days and it has really made me realize what’s important in life. And that’s loving and being loved. I love you, Brady. I want to marry you and be with you forever. I want us to live together and to end each day in your arms. Please say you will?
FluidTransfer69:
Get married in person?
Cargobabe:
I know you’re ashamed of your scars, but there’s no shame with me Brady. I don’t care if your face looks like it’s been melted by acid. Just as long as you’re nice to me, like you have been. What we have together is something I’ve never known before.
FluidTransfer69:
Will ur mom come too? I think I have room.
I quickly peer over my shoulder to make sure Mother is still finishing her home tattoo. She’s deep in concentration over an electric toothbrush motor and a Bic pen.
Cargobabe:
Mother will not be attending the ceremony.
We discuss logistics. Although I want to leave this afternoon, Brady has a biohazard run to finish and only one radioactive suit. We decide on Friday.
The truth is, good things do happen to good people; sometimes it just takes awhile. And bad people do get punished. Mother already got hers, sort of. She should’ve gotten it for longer but I wanted to give her a second chance.
The rest of the week proved to be quite a struggle. I managed to get through it only because I knew it would all be over soon, I in Brady’s protective embrace.
On Tuesday, incredulous that I wasn’t holding
“Three minutes,” I warn. “Don’t get caught in the dry with a head full of bubbles.”
She hoists up an arm that appears to be covered with sawdust. “I’ve got more dead skin than you’ve got ugly. Give me another one of those things. Three minutes isn’t even long enough to sand my forehead.”
I tell her, “just this once,” then when I hear the water start I put all my remaining ration cards into a front-zip stomach purse designed to prohibit pick pocketing. I bought the purse for travel, specifically for when Brady and I will honeymoon in Rome.
While Mother’s in the shower, I sign on to let Brady know that I’ve unfrozen her.
FluidTransfer69: U guys catching up?
I’m a sucker for simplicity and would rather not explain that since waking, all Mother has really done is fully deplete my living quarters and put me in a choke-hold.
CargoBabe:
Yes.
That night I decide that if things are going to move forward emotionally with Mother, it is I who will need to instigate the healing process. I watch on as she uses my fold-down dinette table to practice punching through wood.
She needs no practice.
“Mother, when you killed Father, that really hurt me. Especially the having to watch it.”
“I didn’t tie you up and glue your eyes open.”
This is true. Mother has a way of making everyone else seem in the wrong.
“Did you miss me? All those years you were frozen?”
Mother’s left cheek is somewhat illuminated by the moon, which is visible across the windshield. She’s sweaty and her cheeks are pink with exertion. I watch as her expression remains unchanged while her fist sails through four solid inches of oak.
It occurs to me that we’re now the same age. In fact, she might be a little younger. Despite her discoloration from freezing, I have to admit that her features are beautiful. It’s not something she passed on.
“Mother? Because I missed you. Sometimes I was so mad at you that I told myself I didn’t miss you. I even swore that I hated you, but inside I knew that was never true, no matter how much I wanted it to be.”
“I was frozen, nitwit. You can’t miss people while you’re frozen.”
In my bunk I pull the covers up over my head and wonder if my relationship with Brady is strong enough to accelerate—to the point of me seeing his face, but also to us meeting and perhaps cohabitating.
Mother could maybe not come with me.
The next morning I pop the question to Brady.
Cargobabe:
I know this is sudden, but I’ve been through a lot in the past four days and it has really made me realize what’s important in life. And that’s loving and being loved. I love you, Brady. I want to marry you and be with you forever. I want us to live together and to end each day in your arms. Please say you will?
FluidTransfer69:
Get married in person?
Cargobabe:
I know you’re ashamed of your scars, but there’s no shame with me Brady. I don’t care if your face looks like it’s been melted by acid. Just as long as you’re nice to me, like you have been. What we have together is something I’ve never known before.
FluidTransfer69:
Will ur mom come too? I think I have room.
I quickly peer over my shoulder to make sure Mother is still finishing her home tattoo. She’s deep in concentration over an electric toothbrush motor and a Bic pen.
Cargobabe:
Mother will not be attending the ceremony.
We discuss logistics. Although I want to leave this afternoon, Brady has a biohazard run to finish and only one radioactive suit. We decide on Friday.
The truth is, good things do happen to good people; sometimes it just takes awhile. And bad people do get punished. Mother already got hers, sort of. She should’ve gotten it for longer but I wanted to give her a second chance.
The rest of the week proved to be quite a struggle. I managed to get through it only because I knew it would all be over soon, I in Brady’s protective embrace.
On Tuesday, incredulous that I wasn’t holding
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