Bittersweets
When I woke up this morning my mom was lying on the couch facedown in a pool of her own vomit—those noodles in the shapes of letters and numbers and I thought to myself ‘not again!” I halfway expected it to spell out some hidden message but all I saw was F-L-U-D-G-N-I-P, which I don’t think is even a word.
I rolled her over—she was still breathing but boy did she look like holy hell. Her hair was matted n’ tangled and there were bits of noodle stuck in it. Her lips were blue. Not baby-choking-on-a-balloon blue but water-reflecting-on-a-lake blue. I thought to myself that it was a good thing I bought those crinkly plastic covers for the couch last summer.
When I was young my mom was a real babe. She did some modeling for Coors posters. The kind of posters with blond girls in blue bikinis being splashed with beer while sitting on bright orange trucks. Those kindsa’ posters. But after the car accident eight years ago she begun drinkin a lot. She doesn’t really go outside much anymore, either. Says her face ain’t good enough to show around town anymore. The scars aren’t that noticeable but I guess when you usedta’ be on posters being splashed with beer long scars on the face are a big deal, no matter how subtle they are. The doctors patched her up pretty good but she doesn’t think so, so now she drinks all day long. She doesn’t even drink Coors, says it tastes bad which I think probably violates her old contract but she’s too drunk to care.
My mama felt so bad about herself that she didn’t even listen to my dad when he said he wanted her back, even after the accident when she had stitches up n’ down her face lookin like she was an old door patched up badly by a five-year-old learnin’ to sew.
My mama only ever really hangs out with Julisa, the maid, but half the time when I get home and Julisa’s over they’re both drunk as a bunch of Irishmen at a Saint Patrick’s day parade and fallin’ into paintings and knocking things over and definitely not cleaning. But my mom pays Julisa anyways.
After rolling my mama over I figured I should clean her off a little so I grabbed a roll of paper towels lyin’ nearby and the bottle of window cleaner because it was closer then the sink. I sprayed the paper towel, just a little, and wiped off my mama’s face. I figure if she can handle two pints of gin then she can handle a little window cleaner on her face.
I couldn’t clean her up too good cuz the bus was comin’ and I didn’t want to be late to class because I have already been late twelve times and Mr. Klarkston says that if I’m late again to Chemistry he’ll fail me.
***
So I did somethin’ stupid. I know I shouldn’ta done it but I did it anyway.
It all started at Slagner’s the Friday before last. I went there with Kristine but she got drunk real fast and ended up passin’ out in the rhododendron bush out back by the pool. I was sittin in the livingr oom just talking to Mark and Jess and Clayton and I guess I had a bit too much to drink too because next thing I know Clayton and I are up in Slagner’s parent’s room with the lights off. Clayton was on top of me and all I kept thinking’ about was why Slagner’s mom bought pillowcases with pastel roosters on them and how ugly they were.
I never woulda guessed that Clayton and I would end up there, under the heavy comforter, our heads lyin’ on ugly roosters pillows, rubbin and touchin and let me tell you it ain’t like nothing they show in the movies. And before that the extent of Clayton and my relationship was him doin’ my Chemistry homework.
Two nights later I ended up in the back seat of Carl Clyde’s Range rover.. This time it was a little more like the way the show it in the movies. It was after the football game and, although he’s not a starting player Carl is still on the football team and he is still pretty good-lookin, definitely better lookin than Clayton though probably not as smart. He told me we didn’t need to use any protection cuz he wasn’t gunna go far enough to need it but now that I think about it he was probably lying.
About a week later when we were in Chemistry class Clayton told me that during the night at Slagner’s the damn thing had broken but by then it was too late to do much about it. He looked real guilty and said sorry about two dozen times and, well, I don’t think I’ll have to worry about ever doing my homework in that class anymore.
***
I skipped school today. I just didn’t want to face anybody. I still can’t believe there’s somethin’ insida me. You’d think I would feel it, feel it crawlin around in there. But the only thing I feel is, well, I’m not too sure. It’s a life, but it’s one I don’t know that I want. I mean, who the hell am I to raise a kid? I smoked pot, I’ve gotten drunk, Hell, I screwed two guys within a week. Frankly I feel sorry for the fetus.
I got up to go pee earlier and my Mama was cookin boiling hotdogs. Her long hair was tied back in a messy ponytail. She had mismatched slippers on her feet and a stained robe was thrown over her shoulders, covering her 70s style shorts.
“What the fuck you doin here?” she asked me, a cigarette sticking out of her mouth.
“Well,” I told her, “I was about to go pee.”
“Aint you supposed to be at school?” she hiccupped, sticking a long fork into one of the hotdogs.
“Aint you supposed to be working, or cleanin the house, or taking care of your goddamn self? Jesus Mama you look like shit.” I said.
“You!” She screamed and honestly I flinched a little. My mama can be scary. “You shut the hell up!” She pointed her hotdog fork at me, waving it around. The juice fell on the floor and Jack-of-Hearts ran over to lick the mess.
“Jeez, sorry Mama I didn’t mean it.” I really didn’t want to upset her, I just didn’t like seein her like that, and it was hard not to tell her.
“It’s alright baby. You want a hotdog? This one’s for Jackie but I can make you another.” Mama smashed the hotdog into a stale piece of Wonder bread and threw it into the dog dish. Jack-of-Hearts ran up and smelled it, hesitantly, and began to eat.
“No, Mama, thanks though.” I said, watching Jack swallow hunks of the hotdog bread. Mama doesn’t buy dog food and poor jack can’t keep down the hotdog bread nine times out of ten. He just ends up throwin it up and then Mama ends up stepping in it but she don’t care.
***
I thought maybe today I was gunna get my rag cuz my I was gettin’ cramps real bad, but it turned out to just be gas from the burrito I had during lunch. Figures.
***
My Mama nearly burnt down the house today. She was tryin to warm the place up and since we don’t have any central heating she decided the easiest way would be to turn on all the burners on the stove. It was workin, It was working I guess cuz a little while later when she got up from watching her soap operas to get a glass of milk she decided to take off her sweater. I guess the arm of the sweater got a little too close to the flame and caught on fire.
My Mama started screaming and I ran out of the bathroom to see what the ruckus was and there was my mom, her head stuck in a sweater with a burning sleeve. Mama was flailing around, knocking the magnets off the fridge and spilling the milk on the counter. Poor Jack-of Hearts, our little terrier, was so scared he hid himself behind the couch.
I grabbed the closest liquid to me which happened to be an old bowl of noodle soup and I just chucked it at Mama and it did the trick. The fire went out and Mama got her head unstuck from the sweater.
“What the hell’d you do that for?” she asked sourly.
And I said “you was on fire.”
She said “wasn’t that bad.” And then she burped and I could tell she was drunk but that didn’t surprise me.
“You smell like burnt hair and vodka.” I said and went to my room, Jack-of-Hearts trailing after me. I didn’t have the nerve or heart to tell my Mama that I’d just seen the pink double line on the pee-stick and that I was basically screwed in more ways than one.
***
I told Kristine that I’m pregnant. She told me I’m a retard and to not joke about that kind of shit and then I showed her the pee stick and that sure shut her up.
“Planned parenthood has a vacuum that’ll suck the thing right outa you,” she said.
I told her I didn’t know what I was gunna do yet cuz I don’t like the idea of killing an innocent baby but every time I think of a little person growing inside of me it makes me sick. I’m just glad babies don’t pop out of people’s backs like those Surinam toads from South America The eggs get laid in the toad’s back and a little while later the little puss-bubble lookin things pop open and baby frogs crawl out. I think I would just die if that’s how it happened with people. Just die.
I haven’t told Clayton or Carl yet, that’s for sure.
To be honest the whole idea of babies is disturbing. Carl is cute but is dumber than the boy in fifth grade who thought that earthworms were baby snakes, and I have somewhat of a small head and Clayton, though being the smartest people I know, has somewhat of a large body—so I’m sure if it was his kid it would come out lookin’ like one of them pinheads in that Freaks movie that one guy ruined his career over. So I’d either have a cute-as shit dumb-ass baby or an ugly-as-shit smart-ass baby and frankly none of those sounds too good.
***
After school I went to the supermarket to get some juice and just for the hell of it I walked down the baby-goods aisle. Everything was new an shiny. There were fourteen different types of diapers. Some had baby polar bears on em and some had puppies or kittens or quite little robots. But I think it’s all bullshit. Ain’t no smilin’ princess face on the front of a diaper gunna mask the smell of baby shit. I want to smack the smile off those pretty princess faces.
I got bought a magazine with a happy lookin pregnant woman on the front. It showed her sittin on a big swollen couch that had big exotic leaves on the throw pillows. She was sittin next to a man who looked like he had walked right off the set of a Gillette commercial and a well groomed collie. I’d be happy too. Instead I got two possible daddies and a bulimic terrier.
When I got home my mama and Julisa were watching old country music videos, singing into an empty gin bottle as if it were a microphone. Julisa always wears short skirts that show off her plump legs. My mama’s eyeliner was smeared on her face but I didn’t tell her. I just grabbed Jack-of-Hearts and went into my room. I can still hear them out in the living room, but now they’ve switched to singin show tunes. My mama would make a terrible grandma.
***
It’s been three weeks since I found out. I tried talking to Kristine about it, whether or not I should go through with it, but she’s too wrapped up in her own drama. Apparently Jason, the dick she’s been ridin in the last two weeks, may or may not have hooked up with Julie, the school whore, after the dance last week. Frankly I don’t give a fuck. She started blabbing on and on about it and eventually I just hung up on her. Sometimes it seems like we’re only friends cuz we had homeroom together and were assigned to sit next to one another.
Seems these days Jack-of-Hearts is the only one I can talk to, and he’s not real good at giving advice.
Earlier today my Mama fell on her face after downing a bottle of wine. She hit her mouth on the side of the couch and knocked out some teeth. I wasn’t home. Thankfully. These days I stay pretty much in my room. It’s too risky to be out and about in the rest of the house, what with Mama always fallin out of her chairs and droppin things and generally being drunk. The house smells like old spaghetti and sour milk. Except my room. I use incense I get for ten cents down at the supermarket.
***
I’m gunna drive down south to visit my dad—I figure maybe he’ll know what to do. I know I’m cutting’ it close and that pretty soon I’ll have the damn thing out of default. It’s just gunna be me and frogbaby, that’s what I’m callin it now. Weirdly enough, I’m startin to get used to the thing.
