Posted by: ohmypuddin | August 3, 2013

An Experiment: Part Three

Part One
Part Two

“Mother, you need more hobbies. You like Percy Sledge, can I say you’re a Motown fan?”

Cathy was always the formal one. I don’t know when it happened, this Mother business. She called me Mommy and Momma when she was little, like all kids, but at some point, Mother reared her head. It feels so serious, and so mocking, like she’s saying I’m not really her mother at all. Or that all I am to her is the person who birthed her. Mom and Momma feel like terms of endearment. Sally and Irene never seem snide when they call me Mom. But then again, they don’t call me much.

“I guess so. Your father was the one who loved Motown so much, not me.”

“Well, you need to say something else. What about sewing, you used to sew stuff for us.”

Sewing? A hobby? When the girls were little, sewing was a necessity. A hem here, ripped pants there. I had to make the clothes last through three girls. I had to make sure they put in five years of wear and tear. In front of me right now, hanging in my closet, are two Halloween costumes I sewed over the years – a mouse and a pumpkin. They’re made of cheap, scratchy felt, the kind that makes you sweat even when it’s frosty outside.

“You could say that, I guess.”

“What, Mother? I can’t hear you when you’re talking to your clothes.”

I turn my head to talk to Cathy, and she’s not there. Her laptop is open and glowing. I walk to the bed. She’s not in the room at all.

“Cathy? Where’d you go?”

Her voice floats in from the bathroom, muffled through the door. “I’m just using the bathroom, relax. You don’t have to keep an eye on me all the time you know.”

That’s just it though – I don’t know that. The other women from my walking group talk about letting go of their kids. About how their kids tell them about people they date, staying out all night, even people they have sex with and drugs they ingest.

My kids will always be my kids. Every time I call them and they don’t call back, I check the news for crime reports. I can’t help it. A part of me knows I’m always responsible for them. I brought them here, and I have to make sure they stay here.


Responses

  1. I like what you’re doing with the blog – working on fiction. I get too detailed with fiction sometimes and I think that a blog post is the perfect length for putting together a story or an incident or a chapter. I’ll look forward to reading more. :)


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