RoosterRiot
Cause my long hair just can't cover up my red neck
"You come back here right now!" She screamed, nearly falling down the 'steps' to our trailer. Cursing when she scrapped her toe on the worn cinder-blocks I'd put there some years ago.
There was nothing for me to say.
"Purdy-Roy Williams."
Immediately any serious attitude I'd managed for this, situation. It was just gone dammit. Who names their boy that, what kind of woman- hell what kind of man lets a wife do such a thing? To think the two were even thinking of re-doing their 'marriage'. What kind of woman makes that mistake twice? No, three times? She had the drugs to blame now and the first time, but that second? The second time he'd run off, sure, he hit the road sudden. Two sorry mother-fuckers five states apart ain't getting no divorce, but she didn't try when he was 'round. She ain't never tried at all.
I heard my name be called again, heard that woman curse me, but in a cry. I fucked up and turned 'round, and I pitied her. All bunched in tears on the floor. My Momma. Clutching for pearls she'd sold, only her torn nasty night gown to hide the rest of her shame. Nevermind it poured from her eyes and wrists. My Momma.
"I ain't leaving for good."
"Please don't- baby please-"
I became much more aware, folks were coming out. We take any longer and Miss Tammy would be right on her way. To soak up all our business and bake us sweet food with her kind little words. Then tell her boyfriend who'd tell his cousin who'd tell the whole damn town. Or, trailer park. I hardly ever did leave here, and with all that went on and all the folks. As soon as you escaped the dirt road it was a whole new world. Wish there was a beautiful surface for me, I'd sign my soul away for some mystical- well, I ain't gay. Just want what the TV folks have.
Momma brought me back to reality, she was still laid there crying, and the dog was scratching at the door, wanting out. I walked on over, not giving any neighbors a glance, as I lifted her up. First harshly by the arm, but then I helped her up proper. She clung to me in a hug. Her thin arms draped over and squeezing tight as she could. Felt like she'd fly off in the wind, but I brought her in. Fighting with the dog to get in first but it sped through my legs.
"I can't stay here Momma." I sighed as I sat her on the couch. Looking down, and feeling wrong for it.
"Son-"
I cut her off, "Momma I'm 25, I've been in this house and only this house for what? Hell no calculation needed, Momma I was born in your bathroom! How old are you Momma?" It cut the tip of my tongue and must've straight burned her's off. She just stared up at me all sorry. 'How old are you?' That wasn't no question a mother should be asked by a son, but what could I say?
"I'm-"
I cut her off again, but now because.. this wasn't right. "I'm 25.."
"I know- and you're more mature than I could ever be- and I know I screwed up baby- It's a wonder you're so good for me I-"
She was crying again. I watched as she wiped tears with her aged needle fingers.
"Don't put yourself down for me. You're my Momma."
"An awful one."
"No- You're- we're figuring this out. Me and you. Purdy and Joan." I'd got on my knees, holding her hands with one and wiping her tears.
Just as she was about to reply, in what I knew what agreement.
The door swang open, planting itself into the hole made months ago, and it was him. Diesel, I would've laughed if I had in me. That's why he let her choose Purdy. Diesel drug himself about the floor, stopping with a stomp as if he had any importance going on at all.
"Whatcha doing with my wife boy?" He had a permanent smirk- probably scowl. Where every time he talked his left corner lip with pull all the way up and out, showing his black teeth and spotted tongue.
'Boy.' As if anything could make me any angrier. Mother and Father. Judas and The Devil himself. He spoke like I wasn't his son, but he wasn't my Daddy neither. Only my Momma called me son, and the one time he did I knocked the shit out of him. I finally gave my answer though.
"Taking care of her, like a man should."
He laughed, lip raising higher and showing off his blacker gums. He had them spots all up and over his body. Broad shoulders and baggy clothes hid it, but he was thinner than Momma had ever been.
Diesel was a good name for the sorry fuck.
"You a man boy?"
"25."
He laughed harder, and I wanted to punch him. Squeezing Momma's hands.
"Boy you ain't seen a thing, age don't make a man. It's experience, and I heard your ass. You were born in that bather-room, and you never lived another home. You're a child. You join that army, or them marines-"
"I was going to." I said suddenly, and it was true, but I told him to buy me time. He'd been here that long? It made me angrier to think of him standing dull on the other side while I humiliated his wife. He just sat there, did he have that smile? He came in right as she'd started to feel any better, what was that supposed to mean?
I waited for him to keep on, continue so I could have my comeback, but only Momma spoke.
"Son, you're hurting me."
Immediately I let go, watching in guilt as her hands went from white to red and back to that soft yellowish pink. I didn't want to leave anymore, how could I? She spoke again, standing up as I did too.
"I'll make dinner baby. Go get you a shower."
"Yes Momma." I said quietly, looking behind me to see Diesel was gone. She left to the kitchen and I did as told. I cried in the shower, but not much. I think I made myself cry, but didn't have enough bad to keep it going so the tears would be real.
Later that night, well after a shower and a short nap. I joined for dinner. It wasn't elegant, or something time consuming. It was grill cheese. Momma just didn't make food when she said she would, but at least she made any at all. It was awkward for one thing, at the table. Diesel was putting his cigarette out on the sandwich. I didn't have the energy and Momma didn't have the bravery to say anything. We all just stared at the burn mark growing. It felt real pointless to be here, at this table. Especially when before you were so close to leaving forever. My bags were in the truck.
Guess I can talk to Billy about more work, he told me I shouldn't quit, at least we're on good terms.
There was nothing for me to say.
"Purdy-Roy Williams."
Immediately any serious attitude I'd managed for this, situation. It was just gone dammit. Who names their boy that, what kind of woman- hell what kind of man lets a wife do such a thing? To think the two were even thinking of re-doing their 'marriage'. What kind of woman makes that mistake twice? No, three times? She had the drugs to blame now and the first time, but that second? The second time he'd run off, sure, he hit the road sudden. Two sorry mother-fuckers five states apart ain't getting no divorce, but she didn't try when he was 'round. She ain't never tried at all.
I heard my name be called again, heard that woman curse me, but in a cry. I fucked up and turned 'round, and I pitied her. All bunched in tears on the floor. My Momma. Clutching for pearls she'd sold, only her torn nasty night gown to hide the rest of her shame. Nevermind it poured from her eyes and wrists. My Momma.
"I ain't leaving for good."
"Please don't- baby please-"
I became much more aware, folks were coming out. We take any longer and Miss Tammy would be right on her way. To soak up all our business and bake us sweet food with her kind little words. Then tell her boyfriend who'd tell his cousin who'd tell the whole damn town. Or, trailer park. I hardly ever did leave here, and with all that went on and all the folks. As soon as you escaped the dirt road it was a whole new world. Wish there was a beautiful surface for me, I'd sign my soul away for some mystical- well, I ain't gay. Just want what the TV folks have.
Momma brought me back to reality, she was still laid there crying, and the dog was scratching at the door, wanting out. I walked on over, not giving any neighbors a glance, as I lifted her up. First harshly by the arm, but then I helped her up proper. She clung to me in a hug. Her thin arms draped over and squeezing tight as she could. Felt like she'd fly off in the wind, but I brought her in. Fighting with the dog to get in first but it sped through my legs.
"I can't stay here Momma." I sighed as I sat her on the couch. Looking down, and feeling wrong for it.
"Son-"
I cut her off, "Momma I'm 25, I've been in this house and only this house for what? Hell no calculation needed, Momma I was born in your bathroom! How old are you Momma?" It cut the tip of my tongue and must've straight burned her's off. She just stared up at me all sorry. 'How old are you?' That wasn't no question a mother should be asked by a son, but what could I say?
"I'm-"
I cut her off again, but now because.. this wasn't right. "I'm 25.."
"I know- and you're more mature than I could ever be- and I know I screwed up baby- It's a wonder you're so good for me I-"
She was crying again. I watched as she wiped tears with her aged needle fingers.
"Don't put yourself down for me. You're my Momma."
"An awful one."
"No- You're- we're figuring this out. Me and you. Purdy and Joan." I'd got on my knees, holding her hands with one and wiping her tears.
Just as she was about to reply, in what I knew what agreement.
The door swang open, planting itself into the hole made months ago, and it was him. Diesel, I would've laughed if I had in me. That's why he let her choose Purdy. Diesel drug himself about the floor, stopping with a stomp as if he had any importance going on at all.
"Whatcha doing with my wife boy?" He had a permanent smirk- probably scowl. Where every time he talked his left corner lip with pull all the way up and out, showing his black teeth and spotted tongue.
'Boy.' As if anything could make me any angrier. Mother and Father. Judas and The Devil himself. He spoke like I wasn't his son, but he wasn't my Daddy neither. Only my Momma called me son, and the one time he did I knocked the shit out of him. I finally gave my answer though.
"Taking care of her, like a man should."
He laughed, lip raising higher and showing off his blacker gums. He had them spots all up and over his body. Broad shoulders and baggy clothes hid it, but he was thinner than Momma had ever been.
Diesel was a good name for the sorry fuck.
"You a man boy?"
"25."
He laughed harder, and I wanted to punch him. Squeezing Momma's hands.
"Boy you ain't seen a thing, age don't make a man. It's experience, and I heard your ass. You were born in that bather-room, and you never lived another home. You're a child. You join that army, or them marines-"
"I was going to." I said suddenly, and it was true, but I told him to buy me time. He'd been here that long? It made me angrier to think of him standing dull on the other side while I humiliated his wife. He just sat there, did he have that smile? He came in right as she'd started to feel any better, what was that supposed to mean?
I waited for him to keep on, continue so I could have my comeback, but only Momma spoke.
"Son, you're hurting me."
Immediately I let go, watching in guilt as her hands went from white to red and back to that soft yellowish pink. I didn't want to leave anymore, how could I? She spoke again, standing up as I did too.
"I'll make dinner baby. Go get you a shower."
"Yes Momma." I said quietly, looking behind me to see Diesel was gone. She left to the kitchen and I did as told. I cried in the shower, but not much. I think I made myself cry, but didn't have enough bad to keep it going so the tears would be real.
Later that night, well after a shower and a short nap. I joined for dinner. It wasn't elegant, or something time consuming. It was grill cheese. Momma just didn't make food when she said she would, but at least she made any at all. It was awkward for one thing, at the table. Diesel was putting his cigarette out on the sandwich. I didn't have the energy and Momma didn't have the bravery to say anything. We all just stared at the burn mark growing. It felt real pointless to be here, at this table. Especially when before you were so close to leaving forever. My bags were in the truck.
Guess I can talk to Billy about more work, he told me I shouldn't quit, at least we're on good terms.
