Wednesday, 18 July 2007

for one more day.

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Times i did not stand up for My Mother

she has found my cigarettes. they are in my sock drawer.
I am fourteen years old.

"its my room!" i yell.

"Charley! We talked about this! I told you not to smoke! it's
the worst thing you can do! What's the matter with you?"

"You're a hypocrite!"

She stops. Her neck stiffens. "Dont you use that word."

"You smoke! You're a hypocrite!"

"Dont you use that word!"

"Why not, Mom? You always want me to use big words in a sentence.
There's a sentence. You smok.e I can't. My mother is a hypocrite!"

I am moving as i yell this, and the moving seems to give me strength,
confidence, as if she can't hit me. This is after she has taken a job
at the beauty parlor, and instead of her nursing whites, she wears
fashionable clothes to work - like the pedal pushers and turquoise blouse
she is wearing now. These clothes show off her figure. i hate them.

"I am taking these away," she yells, grabbing the cigarettes.
"And you are not going out, mister!"

"I don't care!" i glared at her. "And why do you have to dress like
that? You make me sick!"

"I what?" Now she is on me, slapping my face. " I WHAT?
i make you" -slap!-"sick?" I make " -slap!- "you SICK?"-
slap!- "Is that what you"-slap!-"said?" -slap,slap!- "Is it?
Is that what you THINK OF ME?"

"No! No!" I yell. "Stop it!"

I cover my head and duck away. I run down the stairs and out the
garage. I stay away until well past dark. When I finally come home,
her bedroom door is closed and i think i hear her crying. I go to
my room. The cigarettes are still there. I light one up and start crying
myself.

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so tell me ppl,
how much do you know about your mom?

Tell Her.