The Smallest Of Them All

When Momma Ain't Watchin'

The white light from the sun peaked out from behind my wooden shutters in my sister’s room. The paint was peelin’ and the wood was gettin’ softer each time Luce banged it open and close. Momma was out again late last night and Luce had a bad dream. She wouldn’t quit cryin’ till I finally agreed to lay down with her. During the summer, when Momma goes out more than usual, that’s when the nightmares become a regular thing ‘round here.

It was early, but not early enough to not hear the neighbor boys runnin’ ‘round actin’ up like they always do with my baby brother, Mason. He was more of a handful then my other one, but I could handle it.

Rolling myself outta the bed, I twist and turn my back till I hear the pop sounds in my spine. Luces’ bed was never comforting, but I guess my presence was enough for her. Lookin’ down, I remember I had never changed out of my white sundress from the other day and the soles of my feet were still as brown as my eyes. Slowly openin’ the shutters to let the sun pour in, I ignored my appearance and wandered out of the bedroom.

My Momma’s bedroom door was open, so that must mean she was here this mornin’. Whenever it was closed, she told us to never come inside, no matter if we hear her screamin’ or cryin’ or nothin’. Momma didn’t like people pokin’ their noses in her business. Maybe that’s why she always hollars at her ‘special’ friends when they don’t wanna leave in the morning.

Creakin’ my way down the thin wooden stairs at the end of the hall, I hear the back screen door open and close with a slam. Kids must be at it again, but I’ll go after them once I find Momma for the mornin’. She never did like stayin’ in the same place for too long.

Peerin’ into the kitchen, I see her. All dolled up with her red pouty lips, high heels, tight dress and sparkly purse. She sure did dress nice, but Momma never let me have any of her old clothes, even though I could wear some of it.

“Momma?”

She turned around, surprised. White coffee cup in hand, she flashed me her stained smile and popped her hip out to the side, “Well, good morning Bethyl, ain’t it good to see you before I leave. When was the last time that happened?”

Yesterday, it was yesterday.

“I don’t quite remember Momma, I’ve so busy lookin’ after Lucy and Mase that I’ve forgotten everything else,” I mumble, keepin’ my eyes locked on her face and not her shakin’ hand. It looks as if the coffee was gonna to spill out, and it was the last of the batch we could make for awhile. She gets moody without her daily fix.

“Anywho, I’m gonna be out for awhile, as you usually know. So, I’ma need you to watch the kids again today, alright?’ She asked as she sipped on her cup, startin’ to round the kitchen for her car keys. One of her habits was throwin’ things when she came home a little drunk. She’s gettin’ better at throwin’ them now, it takes me longer and longer each night to hunt for them.

“Yes ma’am,” I whispered, watchin’ her grab her keys out of the desk side ashtray in the livin’ room. After droppin’ them into the big pocket of her bag, Momma swipes a little white box off of the desk, pullin’ out a tiny little stick, then pokin’ it into her mouth.

Her hands were still shakin’ as she lit the end of the stick, settin’ it on fire with the flick of a switch. Suckin’ on the stick, her hands seemed to settle down, like the fire was some kind of on and off switch.

Marchin’ toward the front door, she tossed her arm over her head, wipin’ her boney and pale hand back and forth, “Tell the kids I said hello, they were already outside when I came down this mornin’, didn’t wanna waste my breath callin’ after them. Be good,” she said. I wanted to tell her to do the same.

But I couldn’t. The wood had already slammed behind her ‘fore she could even hear my faint “goodbye”.

Lookin’ ‘round the livin’ room, I was surrounded by loose and forgotten newspaper pages, raggedy blankets, toys strew all over the wood flooring and the smell of day old coffee beans. Momma didn’t like the house dirty when she got home. But then again, she’s the one who makes it that way every night.

Lookin’ back at the table, I see that Momma left the little white box here and didn’t take it with her. One of the sticks had rolled out, apart from the rest that were barely holdin’ on to the cardboard packagin’. Steppin’ over to the ashtray, I scoop them all back into the box expect the lone one outside. That one, I’ll hold on to for now.

Just then, I hear Luce start hollerin’ from the back yard, callin’ my name over and over again like she was some kinda war siren or somethin’. Tuckin’ my hands under my arms, I hid the secret substance and followed the voice outside to the back.

Throwin’ my bony shoulder into the swingable door, I push myself through and hurry down the cinder block supported steps and onto the dead grass. Lookin’ ‘round, I wip my head ‘round till I see Mason on the old ladder, tryin’ to climb our neighbors apple tree again and Luce standin’ a far walk away from him.. Gosh darnit, I knew I shoulda’ gotten up earlier and hid it before he got to it again. “Mason! Get ‘yer butt offa that thing ‘fore I come up there myself!” I hollered up there as I stood next to my sister.

Her eyes were glued to that boy just like they are when I turn on Sunday cartoons for her, probably hopin’ he didn’t fall. “Do ya’ think he’ll get me an apple too, Sissy? He knows I like the green ones and not the red ones,” she thought aloud, now shiftin’ her sight over to the single green fruit that was already too far out of our brothers reach.

Stickin’ my hip out to the side like Momma had earlier, I sigh, “Let’s just hope he’s gettin’ down soon, ‘cause I ain’t gettin’ near that bug infested trap.”

“Bethyl?”

I turn around at the sound of a older boy callin’ my name. It was Gareth, one of the neighbor boys that would come ‘round sometimes and watch the kids with me. He had a year or two on me, but we never seemed to talk about that much. “Hello,” I mumble, now feelin’ self conscious about my nappy hair and dirty feet.

“Saw your Momma leave awhile ago, figured I’d come over after she left,” he said with a crooked grin. Gareth’s bottom teeth were kinda funny lookin’, havin’ one in front of the other on the left side. I had to look away, I couldn’t let him see me blush like some kinda schoolgirl.

I let my hands uncross and swing to my side, lookin’ over my shoulder to make sure Mase hadn’t fallen yet and Lucy was still in eyesight. Nothin’ much has changed since the last time I had checked in, except Mason was gettin’ dangerously higher and Luce had her hands on her hips, muttering orders at him from a distance.

I was about to run over and pull ‘em down from his adventure when Gareth spoke again, “What’cha got there, girl?”

I raised my brows, “Got what?”

He pointed to my hand and let out a breathy laugh, “That cigarette, you a smokin’ girl now? Don’t ‘cha know boys ain’t gonna wanna kiss you when you smell like that?”

Checkin’ my own hand, I remembered that I still had that damned white stick in my palm, which was somehow shakin’ just like Momma’s had this mornin’. Restin’ my elbow on my hip, I inspected the cigarette closer, tryin’ to ignore the older boy’s stare and smile. It had a little yellow part and the tip was stained with some brown dirt. Guess Gareth was right, boys don’t wanna kiss girls who smell like dirt.

But, they didn’t seem to care when they kissed Momma. So maybe, it’s okay.

-

The prompt was to write a story about a picture we found online. And I've seen this picture floating around Tumblr for some time now, thought I'd give it a meaning. Also, comment if you know where some of the names are from, one of them is a cheeky little ship name! But, for who?

-TaylorMarie