Read Online Say When by Tara West - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tara West
Tags: Fiction, Coming of Age
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hate this poor, defenseless baby, all because he wasn’t conceived by the right parents.
* * *
Tyler and I play upstairs in my bedroom so my mom doesn’t have to be offended by his “obnoxious giggling” and “strange baby odor.”
I keep a little basket of toys in my closet for Tyler’s visits, so he crawls after a windup toy until he becomes bored, and then he giggles at a few hand puppets I made for him in one of my art classes. I have to keep redirecting him because he desperately wants to topple my easel and paints.
We play like this for a half hour until he finally tires us both out and rests on my bed with a bottle. I build a fortress of pillows around him so he doesn’t roll off.
When he finally falls asleep, I get a text from Karri. Mom says you have Tyler?
How do I respond to her message? No, I sold him on eBay.
Cruel, I know, but she deserves it after neglecting her child for an entire day.
Ha, ha! She texts back. Robbie is bringing me to get him.
Every muscle in my body tenses up when I think about that greaseball inside my house. I don’t want him to know where I live.
Oh, please, she responds. I imagine her rolling her eyes through the phone. It’s not like he can’t use Google to find you.
He’s not allowed in my house, I answer back.
Don’t worry. He doesn’t like snakes. By snakes, she’s referring to my mother, AKA The Spitting Cobra, a name Karri pinned on her years ago. Be there in twenty, she adds.
I set down the phone and crawl across my bed to Tyler. His cherubic little mouth has fallen open and the empty bottle lies askew on the pillow. I wipe a drop of milk off his cheek and kiss his forehead. Poor guy. I worry about him going home with Karri. I worry he’ll be neglected if she’s back on meth. A lead weight sinks in my stomach when I realize I must confront her when she gets here. I can’t let her take him home unless I’m sure he’ll be safe.
I lie down beside Ty and gently drape my arm across his little body as I turn my gaze toward the pale pink canopy of my four-poster bed, the bed I begged my mom to buy me after my dad’s death.
I remember seeing it in the department store. My mom told me it reminded her of a princess bed, and I begged her for it, even though all those pink frills were a little too girly. Actually, I thought the bed was hideous, and I still do, but I have never been raped in this bed, and I sink into its cozy, pillow-top mattress.
The billowy comforter envelops little Tyler like a cloud, and I smile as his nose twitches and he lets out a soft sigh. I wish there is some way I can protect him from the monsters outside this room, because I know they’re out there. I lived with one for eighteen years. It terrifies me to think of who could hurt Tyler, too.
Chapter Nine
I hear loud rumbling as a truck pulls into my driveway. Karri’s fuck buddy is here. My mom will be pissed when she sees him. Whatever he’s driving, sounds like it’s missing a muffler. I scoot off my bed and rush to the window.
Oh, God. The truck is even uglier than it sounds. I do a double-take at the paint job, which isn’t a paint job at all, but rusty primer. The monster tires are balding on the sides, and the truck is missing a tailgate and the front fender. Probably the only thing of value is the booming stereo system, which rattles my bedroom windows.
My mom screams my name from the downstairs foyer, and I know she’s seen the truck. She’s probably terrified that big eyesore will lower the value of our home, or worse, that one of her country club friends will see someone of such low class parked in our driveway.
I check one more time on the baby before I rush downstairs. Karri is already at the door, holding her finger on the bell. I swing the door open, exasperated when I see she’s popping bubble gum while fiddling with one of the many studs in her earlobe. Her usually spiked pink hair is wild and uncombed, her makeup is smudged, yet she’s wearing this
* * *
Tyler and I play upstairs in my bedroom so my mom doesn’t have to be offended by his “obnoxious giggling” and “strange baby odor.”
I keep a little basket of toys in my closet for Tyler’s visits, so he crawls after a windup toy until he becomes bored, and then he giggles at a few hand puppets I made for him in one of my art classes. I have to keep redirecting him because he desperately wants to topple my easel and paints.
We play like this for a half hour until he finally tires us both out and rests on my bed with a bottle. I build a fortress of pillows around him so he doesn’t roll off.
When he finally falls asleep, I get a text from Karri. Mom says you have Tyler?
How do I respond to her message? No, I sold him on eBay.
Cruel, I know, but she deserves it after neglecting her child for an entire day.
Ha, ha! She texts back. Robbie is bringing me to get him.
Every muscle in my body tenses up when I think about that greaseball inside my house. I don’t want him to know where I live.
Oh, please, she responds. I imagine her rolling her eyes through the phone. It’s not like he can’t use Google to find you.
He’s not allowed in my house, I answer back.
Don’t worry. He doesn’t like snakes. By snakes, she’s referring to my mother, AKA The Spitting Cobra, a name Karri pinned on her years ago. Be there in twenty, she adds.
I set down the phone and crawl across my bed to Tyler. His cherubic little mouth has fallen open and the empty bottle lies askew on the pillow. I wipe a drop of milk off his cheek and kiss his forehead. Poor guy. I worry about him going home with Karri. I worry he’ll be neglected if she’s back on meth. A lead weight sinks in my stomach when I realize I must confront her when she gets here. I can’t let her take him home unless I’m sure he’ll be safe.
I lie down beside Ty and gently drape my arm across his little body as I turn my gaze toward the pale pink canopy of my four-poster bed, the bed I begged my mom to buy me after my dad’s death.
I remember seeing it in the department store. My mom told me it reminded her of a princess bed, and I begged her for it, even though all those pink frills were a little too girly. Actually, I thought the bed was hideous, and I still do, but I have never been raped in this bed, and I sink into its cozy, pillow-top mattress.
The billowy comforter envelops little Tyler like a cloud, and I smile as his nose twitches and he lets out a soft sigh. I wish there is some way I can protect him from the monsters outside this room, because I know they’re out there. I lived with one for eighteen years. It terrifies me to think of who could hurt Tyler, too.
Chapter Nine
I hear loud rumbling as a truck pulls into my driveway. Karri’s fuck buddy is here. My mom will be pissed when she sees him. Whatever he’s driving, sounds like it’s missing a muffler. I scoot off my bed and rush to the window.
Oh, God. The truck is even uglier than it sounds. I do a double-take at the paint job, which isn’t a paint job at all, but rusty primer. The monster tires are balding on the sides, and the truck is missing a tailgate and the front fender. Probably the only thing of value is the booming stereo system, which rattles my bedroom windows.
My mom screams my name from the downstairs foyer, and I know she’s seen the truck. She’s probably terrified that big eyesore will lower the value of our home, or worse, that one of her country club friends will see someone of such low class parked in our driveway.
I check one more time on the baby before I rush downstairs. Karri is already at the door, holding her finger on the bell. I swing the door open, exasperated when I see she’s popping bubble gum while fiddling with one of the many studs in her earlobe. Her usually spiked pink hair is wild and uncombed, her makeup is smudged, yet she’s wearing this
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