It’s three in the morning and he’s still at it. “So it’s Michael? On first name basis with him are you? Are you sleeping with Michael at the music store?’ He says that last part in a high falsetto, mocking me. “Answer ME!” he barks, making my nerves scream. I’m sitting on a chair at the dining room table. Linus left “Dolly Baby” under the table and I hold the doll and rock. What have I done…what have I done…I should never have written the letters…I should be good…I’ve caused all this trouble…and…A hard slap almost sends me off the chair. “Answer me! Are you screwing Michael?” My face stings and I rub it, trying to focus as the room spins. I whisper “no I’m not but it doesn’t matter if I am or not, you will never believe me.” For some reason I add, “I don’t really know him.”
“Why would you have Anda send you a letter there if you don’t know him?’ and he paces back and forth, making me even more nervous. “Because I made a mistake. The only time I talked to him was when I bought your guitar,” I lie. “Michael has our name on file and probably would have kept the letter for me, thinking it was a mistake, since our addresses are almost identical. Or maybe he wouldn’t have noticed and he would just have sent it back. I just didn’t want that old bastard upstairs to get to the mail before I did. He’s always rooting in our mail and I didn’t want him to find it and snoop in it and give it to you….” And there it is. The truth. I didn’t want you to find out…I wanted to get away from you…
He glares at me. “Well thanks to your stupidity, I’m now going to have to quit my job. I’ll have to stay home and watch you Neoma, baby sit you, since you can’t be trusted.” Oh God…what have I done…I rock harder and harder until he yells at me to stop. “That means giving back the car. That means going on welfare. Are you happy now Neoma?!” I try to talk but my mouth is dry. “You don’t have to,” I swallow hard. “I’ll be good…I won’t cause any trouble, I promise…” I can’t believe I’m actually saying this. “No Neoma,” he sneers “you’ve gone too far this time and I’m going to have to teach you some lessons. Starting now.”
He sets the bowl of ashes in front of me. “Now you’re going to eat your words,” he says. He pushes the bowl at me. Eat it!” he hisses. I dare to answer “No…” He grabs his belt and cracks it on the other chair. “Pick one Neoma!” I start to cry…and cry…I steel myself and look at him with pure hatred in my eyes. I take a handful of ashes and put it in my mouth. The bitterness gags me. I eat my words and swallow them. “Again!” he barks. I eat another disgusting mouthful. I’m crying, my nose is running and I’m drooling black spit all over myself and Dolly Baby. He picks up the bowl and throws the rest at me. The ashes sting my eyes.
Again I bolt for the bathroom. This time I throw up. Black words, black bile. The smell is stuck in my nostrils. Brushing my teeth twice doesn’t take away the taste. I clean the blackness from my face and Dolly Baby but I can’t clean it from my heart…
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Tags: bowl of ashes, high falsetto, nerves scream, screwing Michael