Forged By Fire

ONE

"IF YOU DON'T sit your stinkin', useless butt back down in that shopping cart, I swear I'll bust your greasy face in!" She screamed at the three-year-old in front of her. He studied her face, decided she was serious, and put his leg back inside the cart, amidst and assorted pile of cigarette boxes, egg cartons, and pop bottles. He didn't want to sit down anyways because of the soft, uncomfortable load in his pants, which had been there all afternoon and which felt cold and squishy when he moved too much. He rarely had accidents like that, but when he did, Mama sometimes made him keep it in his pants all day to "teach him a lesson"

Gerald was only three, but he had already learned many such lessons, He'd never seen Sesame Street, never heard of Riverfront Stadium— he didn't even know he lived in Cincinnati. But he knew important things— like never mess with Mama when she was in bed— Mama got really mad when you woke her up, especially if she had somebody in bed with her. And never touch that hot thing that Mama used to light her cigarettes, even if the mysterious orange-and-blue fire that comes out of it liked to teach you and dance for only a moment before running away. Mama had once caught Gerald playing with the lighter, and she made the fire come out and she held his right over the flame. It wasn't his friendly fine dancer, though, but a cruel red solider that made his hand scream and made his dizzy with pain and he could smell something that like meat Mama cooked, but it was his hand. When she stopped, she had washed his hand with cool water and soothed him with warm hugs and wrapped with salve and bandages the place where the fire soldier had stabbed him. She told him that she had done it for his own good and to teach him a lesson. He had tried to tell her that he was trying to find the fire dancer, but she wasn't listening and he had given up, thankful for the hugs and the silence.

One other lesson that Gerald had learned was never, never stay near Mama when she sniffed the white stuff. She got it from a man named Leroy who smelled too sweet and smiled too much. When he leaves, you hide behind the couch and hope Aunt Queen comes over because sometimes Mama yells and gets her belt of her show and hits, and hits.. And sometimes she just goes to sleep in the floor and it gets dark and you cry and your tummy feels tight and hurty, but at least there's no show to run away from. Once Aunt Queen had found Gerald curled up behind the couch sucking his thumb. His pajamas were soaked and smelly and he was shivering and hungry. Mama had been gone all day. She had told him not to leave the room, and he had really, really tried to be good, but he was so cold, so very cold. Aunt Queen had taken him to her apartment and given him a warm bath, a boy of hot soup, and some warm, fuzzy sleepers, even though she had to pin the back of them so they wouldn't fall of. Then Mama had to come and she and Aunt Queen had yelled and screamed so much that Gerald had to hold his ears while he lay curled at the foot of the bed. Finally Mama started crying and Aunt Queen was saying stuff like "I know, honey" and Gerald knew he was going back home.