His UGLY Self

Backstory

I knew that day, it wasn't okay to be me.

Mom speeds down the road. Me and her sit in the eerie quiet--that quiet only a kid experiences when he knows something has gone amuck between him and his parent(s). Mom is so mad, she can't even tell me what has got her all bent out of shape; and frankly, I'm too afraid to ask.

I watch Mom's hands grip the stirring wheel tighter and tighter. She squeezes her lips together-- only, she doesn't pucker them up like the pretty girls on TV do when they get ready for another pair of puckered lips to meet tbeirs. Mom's lips are squinched together and hard. Her nose flares open and her gaze stays fixed ahead. Yes, she watches the road, but this gaze is clearly one of rage.

I have never seen her like this before. Actually, the consternation she feels permeates the little tight space we both share. My body temp begins to rise. I begin to sweat. The black leather seats of her 1995 Toyota Camry burn against my leg through my shorts. But yet--the air blows directly in my face. I just wish she would tell me what's going on.

I keep sneaking little glances at her out of the corner of my eyes. She hasn't even looked at me yet. What did I do?

Music normally helps in these "quiet" moments. Sometimes, we don't talk as we cruise down the road. I mean, it's not like we are afraid to do that. (Well, at least I don't think she's afraid to talk with me.) But--I, on the other hand, am kinda with her...sometimes. Heck, I just don't know what to say. So normally I just chill, listening to the music, looking out the window at all the same ole sights that have caught my eyes again and again as we drive to the same ole destinations--to church, to school, to my aunt's house, and back to church again. And again. And again.

But today she isn't letting the music do it's job--to fill in the awkward silences that normally accompany our monotonous rides. And today, this is what makes all the difference. This is how I know something isn't right. And it is like she is doing this on purpose. When she wants me to anticipate the ugliness of something ahead... BAM! She deprives me of the sound of music in my ear. Silence, (at least for me), is always a precursor that something bad broods ahead. But, today, what could it be?

*****

The little get together was going so great, at least I thought it was. Everyone was having a good time, but then out of nowhere she came and yanked me up.

"Let's get ready to go!" She quipped.

Not everyone heard her. Mom is good at making a point--being a quiet smartalick, but in the most noninvasive way. She is never one to make a big scene about something. She is classy in all her affairs and she has always been that way. If you're going to do anything at all, then you better find the least ratchet way to do it. Mom was good at that... Really good, actually.

Ms. Justine was shocked.

"Ivory, where are y'all goin?" She was in a wheelchair and couldn't move directly to Mom, so she simply hollered out from her own throne. Her wheels were bedecked with hot-glued jewels her next door neighbor's daughter had affixed to it.

A few other people whipped around to see what Ms. Justine was talking about. Good thing she was smiling and sounded a little conversational. Otherwise, she would have caught the attention of too many people unnecessarily and Mom might have gotten mad but to save face lie and pretend like everything was ok. But I would have never heard the end of it.

"Yeah... But we gotta go." Mom was already pushing me toward the door with a firm grip on my shoulder. Even in her touch, I can tell when something isn't right. "I'll talk to y'all later."

And like normal, I never asked any questions. I simply followed suit.

"Well, see ya later, Boo." Ms. Justine spoke a little loudly, but not so much a shout.