What can I tell you about my family. My father died when I was nine and my mother is a nurse at the medical center. She works long hours and always has. I have a little brother. He’s 8 years younger. He never knew my father, which could probably be considered a good thing. It’s not as if I knew him either. I just remember going to a church, and everyone wearing black. It smelt like old people and flowers. I am convinced to this day that all older women wear the same perfume. It’s layered with death and flowers.
Vernica sweetie are you ready?
I think so are my shoes shiny enough? I want daddy to see how shiny they are.
Honey your shoes are perfect (she tries not to blow cigarette smoke at me and she makes a funny face while accomplishing this)
Is Roddy coming?
No your brother is staying at the neighbors. Now lets get in the car and go say goodbye to daddy.
We’re saying goodbye? (deep sigh from her and she inhales deeply on her cigarette)
Yes honey. Yes we are. Now buckle up.
Ok. Mommy?
Yes?
Where’s daddy going?
Somewhere a whole hell of a lot better then here. (she laughs at herself, and sighs. She hopes it’s better)
I can safely say that my presence was most definitely missed during the time that I was away. I am the center unit of the family. Which is probably the reason why I always wanted to run away so bad. I attempted and failed many times over. When I was 11 I packed lunch in a brown paper bag. There were potato chips, a sandwich, and some mashed potatoes I had stuffed into a plastic back. I brought my blankie, and my wristwatch, and was convinced that I was set for the road. I packed it all away in a bandanna and attached it to a stick, like I had seen in an old movie. I made it to the playground up the hill from our house, at which point I was hungry. I decided to eat my lunch. I thought I would easily be picked up by some nice family who would ask me to do anything like baby-sit, make dinner, clean the house, or anything. Just be happy to have me enough to do what I wanted. I opened my bandanna and the mashed potatoes has leaked all over the place (mom always made them a little runny) and made everything soggy. I had to go back. And I was devastated. I arrived back at the house and my mother was there. I hadn’t been gone for more than an hour. She just puffed on her cigarette and smiled down at me. I guess she must have been home from a split shift. She didn’t say a word, but made me tomato soup and grilled cheese. This last time was supposed to be for good, but there were…complications.
