Read Online Castles by Benjamin X Wretlind - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Benjamin X Wretlind
Ads: Link
truth?
She took her coat off and fetched a beer from the kitchen. My leg nervously twitched up and down as I sat up straight. I was sure she was going to beat me, bring out that wooden spoon and make sure there were splinters left in my face.
"What's wrong with you?" Mama took her place on a recliner. The television set was off and the silence in the room felt like an omen.
"Mama?" What was I doing? It's not like I ever confided in her my feelings about love or sex. If I had at that age, I'm sure I would have been dealt a lecture or two early on. "I haven't seen Michael in about a week."
"Why should I care?" She took a long drink from her bottle. I watched her rest it on her knee and prayed she wouldn't throw it. "You know I don't think you should date. You're too young."
"I'm twelve years old, Mama. I'm almost a woman."
"Ha! You're almost a teenager . That doesn't make you a woman."
"I have breasts. I bleed. What more is there to being a woman?"
Mama licked her lips, and I watched the bottle return to her mouth. "For one thing, Maggie," she said, "you need to grow up. You don't know what a man is capable of, right now. He wants nothing more than what's between your legs. Michael is no different."
"How do you know? You hardly talked to him."
"He's a man, Maggie. Men are all the same."
"So why do you date? What is it that makes you different from me?"
Mama finished the beer and stood up. I knew her reaction to my argument would be to either ignore the question or yell at me. There would be nothing in between. Whatever I hoped to accomplish that evening wasn't going to happen until I blurted out my secret. Stepping around the issue was bound to make things worse than they already were.
I sat back against the couch and took my eyes off her. I didn't want to see her face anymore.
"I'm pregnant, Mama."
I heard the bottle drop on the carpet first. It reverberated through the trailer like a bomb and I'd lit the fuse. I refused to look up. I knew she stood in the middle of the room shaking. I could hear her breath increase with each second. I'm sure her hands clenched together into fists, her teeth grinded and her eyes widened. I imaged for a moment that same demon I'd seen in the room when I six, her barbed tail poised to strike me down for the last time.
I waited for the end.
"Get out." It was a whisper and nothing more. I turned my face up only slightly. She held her arm out and pointed at the door. On her face, I saw shock painted red with pain.
I slowly stood up and walked to the door, tears streaming down my face. I wanted to run to her, to wrap my arms around my mother and cry until my tear ducts dried and my stomach hurt. She was my protector and the only person I had left. If she kicked me out, I had nowhere to go. I knew, though, that getting near her would invite her wrath into my life.
Maybe I grew up one year or two at that point. I slipped by her without saying a word and headed for the door. Grandma would never have let me leave. I'm sure I would have experienced her wrath, but it was one that was always pulled from the bowels of love, never hate.
Mama, on the other hand, couldn't love me the same.
Certainly not now. Certainly not after what I told her.
I put my hand on the door and turned to look. Her arm was still stretched out, her expression one of emptiness. Her eyes seemed full of tears, but she stared at the far wall, more afraid to look at me, I think, than I was to look at her.
"Mama, please," I whispered.
She stood like a statue, unable to move and probably unable to accept the truths that lay before her gutted life. When I think back, I'm sure there was more pain than I imagined. After Grandma left and she kicked Alfie out of the house, I was the only thing she had left. I was her blood, and even if I wasn't the person she wanted me to be, I was her reason for existence. I took that reason, and with three words, shoved it down her throat like an ungrateful child.
I pushed the door
She took her coat off and fetched a beer from the kitchen. My leg nervously twitched up and down as I sat up straight. I was sure she was going to beat me, bring out that wooden spoon and make sure there were splinters left in my face.
"What's wrong with you?" Mama took her place on a recliner. The television set was off and the silence in the room felt like an omen.
"Mama?" What was I doing? It's not like I ever confided in her my feelings about love or sex. If I had at that age, I'm sure I would have been dealt a lecture or two early on. "I haven't seen Michael in about a week."
"Why should I care?" She took a long drink from her bottle. I watched her rest it on her knee and prayed she wouldn't throw it. "You know I don't think you should date. You're too young."
"I'm twelve years old, Mama. I'm almost a woman."
"Ha! You're almost a teenager . That doesn't make you a woman."
"I have breasts. I bleed. What more is there to being a woman?"
Mama licked her lips, and I watched the bottle return to her mouth. "For one thing, Maggie," she said, "you need to grow up. You don't know what a man is capable of, right now. He wants nothing more than what's between your legs. Michael is no different."
"How do you know? You hardly talked to him."
"He's a man, Maggie. Men are all the same."
"So why do you date? What is it that makes you different from me?"
Mama finished the beer and stood up. I knew her reaction to my argument would be to either ignore the question or yell at me. There would be nothing in between. Whatever I hoped to accomplish that evening wasn't going to happen until I blurted out my secret. Stepping around the issue was bound to make things worse than they already were.
I sat back against the couch and took my eyes off her. I didn't want to see her face anymore.
"I'm pregnant, Mama."
I heard the bottle drop on the carpet first. It reverberated through the trailer like a bomb and I'd lit the fuse. I refused to look up. I knew she stood in the middle of the room shaking. I could hear her breath increase with each second. I'm sure her hands clenched together into fists, her teeth grinded and her eyes widened. I imaged for a moment that same demon I'd seen in the room when I six, her barbed tail poised to strike me down for the last time.
I waited for the end.
"Get out." It was a whisper and nothing more. I turned my face up only slightly. She held her arm out and pointed at the door. On her face, I saw shock painted red with pain.
I slowly stood up and walked to the door, tears streaming down my face. I wanted to run to her, to wrap my arms around my mother and cry until my tear ducts dried and my stomach hurt. She was my protector and the only person I had left. If she kicked me out, I had nowhere to go. I knew, though, that getting near her would invite her wrath into my life.
Maybe I grew up one year or two at that point. I slipped by her without saying a word and headed for the door. Grandma would never have let me leave. I'm sure I would have experienced her wrath, but it was one that was always pulled from the bowels of love, never hate.
Mama, on the other hand, couldn't love me the same.
Certainly not now. Certainly not after what I told her.
I put my hand on the door and turned to look. Her arm was still stretched out, her expression one of emptiness. Her eyes seemed full of tears, but she stared at the far wall, more afraid to look at me, I think, than I was to look at her.
"Mama, please," I whispered.
She stood like a statue, unable to move and probably unable to accept the truths that lay before her gutted life. When I think back, I'm sure there was more pain than I imagined. After Grandma left and she kicked Alfie out of the house, I was the only thing she had left. I was her blood, and even if I wasn't the person she wanted me to be, I was her reason for existence. I took that reason, and with three words, shoved it down her throat like an ungrateful child.
I pushed the door
Similar Books
