Where There is Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth

Over Easy With a Side of Hash it Out

~1982

Momma wouldn't stop crying. A week since that night when there'd been so much screaming... crying... Sissy didn't know how to be quiet yet. She told Momma NO! She hadn't learned. I knew better cause I was older.

Momma was crying and wouldn't come out of the drawing room. Sometimes she was quieter, but she still wouldn't come out. There wasn't anything to eat within reach. The last bits of bread had blue fur. I ate them anyway and felt sick after. Still Momma wouldn't come out. Wouldn't leave Sissy...

Not until three more days went by.

In three days, Momma stopped crying. One of the heavy wooden doors, dividing the rooms, slid open and there was Momma. She looked so tired. Her eyes were carrying bags and there were wet patches on her dress. And her hair... her pretty hair was all up in snarls and tangles. Momma's hair was never tangled and seeing it that way was scary!

But Momma just smiled. “Everything is going to be okay.” And she got down on her knees to hug me. She smelled funny. Like when Sissy used to mess her pants when she was tiny. But there was some other smell, too, that made me think of the mice in the traps in the basement.

I tried to get away but Momma just squeezed me tight. “It's okay. It's okay, sweetheart. You're Momma's good girl, aren't you?”

“But, Momma...” Her fingers pushed on my mouth and she shook her head.

“You're Momma's good girl, aren't you?”

I nodded. Momma needed me to be her good girl, so I would.

“That's right. That's right, you're Momma's good girl. Good little Sissy...”

Momma stroked my hair.

-~-~-

Debbi with an i – Cupid short hair framing a pixie sharp face. Same shade of brown as her eyes, she wound one finger through the plucky strands while sitting across from the two detectives. His real partner at his side this time, thank God for that, Lassiter still found himself taking second seat during the interview. Just coming off a double service, apparently one of the waitstaff had called in sick, blah, blah, blah... Needless to say, little Debbi wasn't bedazzled by his caffeine free charm; knew they should have stopped for a double shot with extra sugar. Yeah, it was that kind of day. In any event, his query about getting a cup of coffee from the off duty server had drawn more fire than Hillary Clinton at an NRA convention. O'Hara, in her own, unrequested way, had apologized for her partner's “acerbic tone” while simultaneously grabbing control of the conversation. Too perky for 8am smiles had smoothed a multitude of ruffled feathers and nervous glances towards the two sets of recorders waiting to capture every word. O'Hara's bubbles and charm had even earned them two cups of coffee and a plate of Fig Newtons. Not too proud to refuse the steaming mug, Lassiter sucked at the brew while waiting for his moment to grab back the lead role in this far too drawn out investigation that felt more like five years than three months.