Rainy (Blogophilia 51.11)

Emily looked out the living room window, her scarlet curls reflecting in the glass. What a yucky day. Black mud pitted and splashed as each raindrop hit it. She knew it would be fun to play in it, mud all over face and dress. Mommy would be mad, her face squinched up like something smelled bad, yelling about being a mess and making a mess. The bath after would be fun, too. All the dirt piled up on the bottom and sides of the tub. But it was too cold outside.
The “Ponies of the World” coloring book was on the coffee table next to her box of crayons. Grandma had given it to her for Christmas and there were only a couple of pages left. She liked finishing things. Flipping through the coloring book, she smiled. She had stayed in the lines. Her friends had torn up their coloring books, but not her. Both Mommy and Grandma said she was pretty neat when it came to paper stuff.
It wasn’t that way at school. Miss Morgan would get after her for being too slow when she tried to be neat. If she rushed, it looked sloppy and Miss Morgan would fuss about that. Mommy had said she was a person who couldn’t be pleased, just do the best you can. It did make her feel better.
She sat down and started coloring. Mommy began dusting around. It was fun to watch. It looked like her ballet class, reaching up for one thing then bending down for others. She asked to help, but Mommy didn’t want any help today. After the table, she got up on her tippy-toes to get the top of the bookshelf. Emily never could do that, even when Mrs. Summers grabbed her under the arms. Focusing on the paper in front of her, she didn’t notice her walk across toward the kitchen. Suddenly, she started a one-legged jig toward the kitchen table.
“AAAHHH!! Damn it!”
Emily went wide eyed. Mommy said a bad word. She only did that when she was mad.
“Young Lady, WHAT have I told you about leaving stuff on the floor!”
She sat down to see if there was any bleeding. Emily ran up to check, brushing her hand along the bottom of Mommy’s foot. There was a triangular red dent, but no blood. Emily said in a meek voice.
“I didn’t do it. All my dolls and stuff are in my room.”
Wrong answer.
“What did you say?!”
Emily ducked when she saw her hand rise up. Stopping herself, Mommy looked like she wanted to cry. Sinking in the chair, she sighed.
“Just...go to your room.”
Emily didn’t have to be told twice. Quietly, she picked up her book and left, tears welling up in her eyes. She closed the door and jumped face down on her bed. A breeze went across her legs. Oops… She pushed the hem back down and sighed. Good thing she wasn’t in class. Bobby would yell London Bridges and point and the other boys would laugh. It didn’t matter how much Miss Morgan tried to shush him, he’d do it.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t her toy, at least she didn’t think so. Wait. She and Daddy were playing with Lego’s last night. Maybe they missed one. She should say sorry for that.
Mommy was crabby ever since they told her about the new baby. Every day she would yell about something, her homework, or she didn’t pick up her room enough. It didn’t matter whether it was her fault, she would yell. Her eyes were kind of sunk and she’d threw up in the bathroom after they got home today. Mommy needed a nap. That always made her feel better.
Dishes were banging around. Emily knew Mommy was starting supper. Hope it’s hot dogs and none of that broccoli stuff. Yuck. Emily got up and walked over to the full-length mirror on her door. People said she was the spitting image of her Mommy. Spitting? That’s gross. She pulled her curls up over her head and made a face. She sort of looked like her, she guessed.
Mommy and Daddy were fussing last night after she went to bed. Something about bills, whatever they were, and maybe getting a new house.
She had heard Daddy say: “Let’s be honest, Kathy. We can’t afford anything bigger.”
Mommy started crying and said something about where were they going to put it? I guess they mean the baby. Maybe this baby thing is more trouble than it’s worth. Katie said Chloe cried all night for a long time and only now was letting them sleep. It sounded bad.
There was a thump of a bottle on the counter followed by a pop. Mommy’s drinking that funny red juice, Merluh, she likes. Emily tried it once. She stuck her tongue out at the mirror. It was sour and made her dizzy. Mommy claimed it helped her to relax, but all it did was make her silly and pick fights with Daddy. She picked up a toy guitar and strummed it. Grownups like weird things. Maybe it was because they were grownups and they couldn’t play in mud and color? All they could do was go to work.
Oh. Daddy’s home. She waved at him as he got out and he waved back.
“Emmy, supper’s ready.” Well, she didn’t sound mad anymore.
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Topic (Let’s be honest)- Kim Herndon
Pic guesses: Toy Guitar (in blog), Flowered, music room, rainbow tunes, Heartstrings, hippie haven.

Comments

  1. Christopher,

    Oh, my heart aches for the little girl! Parenting is a hard job, especially when you're prego. The emotions are awful strong. One minute you're ontop of the world, the next you're crashing to the ground. If that's help when the kids get old enough to test the waters then emotions are tipped to even a greater level. Parenting is a VERY difficult at times. Great flash fiction piece!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Yep. I remember my wife going after my oldest a couple of times when she was pregnant with the other one.

    ReplyDelete

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