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Seemed to me he got dressed up every day just to sit on his ass and make phone calls so everyone else had to work for a livin.
Attempting to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, I grunted when I remembered it was already pinned back in some extra fancy hairdo Ma insisted on.
“Maybe you should tell me what this big deal is, if it’s that important.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
What was with all the secrecy?
“I’m not sure if this is the part where I say we’re ahead of such times, or times are chagin, since no one around here seems inclined to give me a history lesson.”
She sighed—dramatically, I might add—but I still didn’t get any real explanation. I never did.
“Dick’s meant to be marryin my sister. That’s probably why she left in the first place. It don’t matter now though, does it? Ya’ll won’t give me the option of makin my own choices”
When she let out her signature musical laugh, I knew exactly where this conversation was goin.
“Your choices have resulted in all those tattoos covering your body in a poor attempt to rebel, screwing the pool boy, and failing every aspect of etiquette—your speech, especially.”
There was no reasoning with this woman. I was tired of wastin my time trying to explain who I was to someone committed to misunderstanding me.
How many times did I have to tell her the ink on my body was art? That the pool boy had an actual name, and was my first of everything.
“You keep trying to change me into everything he hates.”
Her swallow was audible, and suddenly she had a bit of invisible lint on her skirt.
The he in question was another subject I was not to discuss—a lesson drilled into my skull from the time I was nine years old.
“You could be happy,” she solemnly deflected.
I huffed in defeat. We always ended up back at this, forever talking in circles.
“Where are you going?” she asked as I pushed away from the table and stood up.
“Goin to wash this gunk off my face, and then I’m goin to bed.”
“Your father will want to speak with you.”
She knew full well I wasn’t going to wait around for that conversation.
I made my way to my room and, once inside, immediately headed for the bathroom.
I laughed at my reflection the second I saw it. I looked like a walking scuff mark.
Ma had wanted to hide some of my tattoos and lathered me in some sort of cover up. It was a hot mess, and extra pointless.
I’d been the subject of gossip and ridicule for years. Everyone in this judgmental city knew I was inked.
I removed the pins from my hair and ran my fingers through the long wavy strands to give it back some life. The few lighter highlights I’d been permitted to have boldly contrasted with the natural dark brown.
Letting the hideously dull teacup dress billow to the bathroom floor, I took a quick shower, and threw on my plaid pajama shorts and an old metal t-shirt, instantly feeling much more like myself.
After shutting the lights off, I turned the lever on the window to let some fresh air in, and settled beneath my abstract comforter. I rolled onto my side, and stared out at the pretty night sky, where the moon sat by her lonesome.
Our backyard seemed to stretch on forever, ending where a solid brick wall wrapped around Centriole as a whole began.
I felt trapped here in every way. I knew Ma loved me, and I liked to imagine Dad did too, but they would never accept me as I was.
