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The good news.
Momma and Dad are speaking again. It's been quiet around here with them walking right past each other all sour faced and silent in a way that only ever happened once before in our house when Momma's sister killed herself and we had the wake in the living room underneath a portrait of Momma hand painted by Aunt Racine the same year she died. Momma looks like she's in a dream the way Racine painted her, with a billowy gown and flowers in her hair standing on a green bank of grass and lillies with a crane in the background. Momma looks misty. I don't know where it's supposed to be 'cause Momma hates the water the way she hates peppers and liver and onions.

The bad news part about Momma speaking with Dad is that the two of them have ganged up to tell me to stay away from Terry, and that they heard what he did in school yesterday and that they worried he was mental or something and that he could be a bad influence on me and there was no point in even discussing it. I didn't grouse too much about it on account of Terry is scary right now with his obsession with Gill, but that doesn't mean I like them telling me who to see and who not to see and why should it matter if he is mental, anyhow?

It's not like I'm a little kid in single digits any more and can't make up my own mind.



comments  |   2/17/2005  |  perma-link/trackback

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