The padding of little feet is a morning ritual. The minute the sun rises, one will wake the other and they will play in their room, with their toys. When they get hungry or have to pee, they come running. They have pajamas with feet and the sound they make is unmistakable…the sound is music for my heart. They usually jump on the mattress and Linus will giggle “Hungwy Mom,” And Boo will echo every thing Linus says “hungy Mom.”
This morning they hesitate and whisper, “Mom has a bobo.” “Bobo…” “Linus kiss a bobo, Mom…” “…kiss a bobo, Mom.” And the gentlest of angels’ kisses, light as angel feathers, cover my swollen face. I’m chocking back the tears. They cannot see me cry…
“Peanuf budder toes!” “buller toes!” squeal the angels and I wish I had a real bed. Getting up from the floor sends pain shooting through my body. I help Boo into her chair and I watch them settle in at their little table and I want to laugh. They look like two little old ladies waiting for the early bird special. I check the bread for mold and I toast two slices on a bent hanger, on the stove ring. A quick check reveals a split and swollen lip. I raise my shirt and wince when I touch the gash on my side from the belt buckle. The toast are ready. I put on the peanuf budder, cut each slice into four small squares and bring it to my waiting ladies. I fill their little cups with milk. “Tank you Mom” “sank you Mom.”
As they chat and eat, legs swinging, I go into the bathroom and wash up. The mirror reveals the split lip, welts and more bruises. At least now he will be appeased for three days…maybe four or five. Four hands and two peanuf budder faces present themselves and I forget for a moment that getting dressed is painful…it’s wash up and get dressed time. They will sit side by side on their potties and inquire of the other if they did a “tootie” yet. Holding one, then the other, over the sink to brush their teeth makes my body scream with pain, but I do it because we always do it. Linus will insist “Nina do it my own self Mom” as she puts her shirt on backwards and her slippers on the wrong feet.
You have to get out Neoma…
I can’t get out…how many times has he told me…If you ever leave me, Neoma I will hunt you down. If you run to your parents place, I will go there, kill you, the babies and your whole family. If you go to my mother’s place, I will kill you, the babies and MY whole family…wherever you are I will find you and I will kill everyone…something, somewhere inside me knows he will do just that. Something, somewhere inside me is screaming…
Pushing the mattress up against the wall almost makes me drop. The heavy curtains are drawn back. I can’t dance today. I give the babies each a piece of rag and we start to dust and clean. “Nina keen wit you Mom” “keen Mom.”
Bitter tears sting my eyes, clog my throat…you have to get out…
How can I? He will kill us all…
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Tags: angel kisses, belt buckle, early bird special, Linus