"Hey, I'm throwing up," I said to Vern. "Some other time."
"What?" I heard him walk over to the bathroom door. He knocked. "Let me in."
"I'm puking. We'll do this later."
"If you're so tanked you're puking, this is the perfect time to do it. Let me in."
"No."
He knocked again. "You won't feel any pain if you're that tanked."
"No."
"Let me in right now!"
"I can't."
"Open up, soldier!"
I wish I had a good reason for doing it. I wish there was something I could say that would make you understand why I opened the door. But I didn't have a good reason. I just did it. I opened the door and he stood there with the tire iron, hitting it against his open palm.
"Lay your arm on the countertop," he said.
I listened to him. I had to listen to him. Do you hear me?
I fell to my knees and lay my crooked arm on the counter.
"This is going to hurt worse than Jesus hurt," Vern said.
Home-Cooked Meal #2
One time my mom said she wasn't going to thaw dinner tonight, but cook, actually cook.
Letch put his hands to his cheeks and opened his mouth wide like he'd never been so astonished. "I'm sorry," he said. "I must have misunderstood what you said."
"Me, too," I said.
"I'm gonna cook dinner tonight."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I asked.
"Oh, Rhonda," Letch said, shaking his head, "she's finally trying to kill us."
It wasn't so bad. I mean, it wasn't good food. Most people probably wouldn't have eaten it. But my mom was home and she wasn't hitting the tcha-bliss too hard, and Letch was home, not hitting us too hard, and I was home, happy that we were all together.
She made chicken legs, cooked them in oil on the stovetop, and she served them with white rice that she'd pulled off the heat too early, making it feel like chewing little light bulbs.
That was all we got.
Letch looked at his plate and said, "No vegetables?" feigning shock again.
"I only know how to microwave vegetables," she said, "and I promised you boys no thawing tonight."
"What do you think, Rhonda?" Letch said. "Is she trying to poison us?"
I picked up my chicken leg and sniffed it. "Maybe"
"You first," Letch said to her, nudging me. "If she's alive in five minutes, you and me can dig in."
She took a bite of her leg, drank the rest of the tcha-bliss. She went and got another glass of wine before she'd finished chewing that first bite. When she came back to the table, she said, "I know you boys think you're pretty funny, but you better start eating before I get mad."
I still held my chicken leg up to my nose, but I didn't want to smell it again, seeing as how it stunk like the trunk of a car.
Letch said, "I'm not eating until I know you're not trying to kill us."
"Why would I want to kill you?"
"There's no reason. I'm just making sure."
My mom had another swig of tcha-bliss and said to me, "You don't think I'd poison you, do you, baby?"
I shook my head.
"Then eat, baby"
"Be careful, Rhonda. She's up to something."
"You guys," she said, "enough's enough."
I said to Letch, "I see what you mean," and set my chicken leg down on my plate.
"Baby, take a bite."
"Not yet," I said.
"The boy's only making sure it's safe"
She said, "This isn't funny." She said, "I cooked you boys dinner, now eat up."
"You look a little pale," Letch said to her. "How do you feel?"
"Eat your chicken!"
"All in due time."
"It's time."
"Can we trust her, Rhonda?"
"We better wait the five minutes," I said.
She finished her tcha-bliss, saying, "Why do I bother?" and she got up, knocking her chair over, and poured herself more tcha-bliss.
"We're just playing," Letch said.
"Then stop playing."
"I'm only verifying that your intentions were pure with this chicken."
"Enough already!"
"Rhonda, are you ready to dig in?" he said.
I picked up my chicken leg, held its scrawny shape up to my face. I could tell my mom was about to lose her temper, and I didn't want that, so I took a bite of the leg and said to her, "Mom, I really love this," but she stared at Letch and said, "Why do you want to ruin dinner?" and he said, "Relax, I'm only playing," and she said, "It's not funny," and he said, "We think it's funny," and I took another bite and while I was chewing I said to her, "Mom, this is wonderful chicken," and she said to Letch, "Are you going to eat it?" and he said, "Did you poison it?" and she said, "Stop saying that!" and I ate all of the meat off of my leg and took two huge spoonfuls of rice and shoved them in my mouth and tried to chew, but it was so big, my cheeks ballooning out, there was so much food I could barely speak, but I said, "This is so good you should make it again soon," and she said to Letch, "Why are you just sitting there?" and he said, "The five minutes aren't up yet," and she said, "I'm not trying to kill you," and he said, "We'll see," and he looked at me, saying, "Rhonda has taken his life into his own hands. What kind of mother are you?" and she stood up again, killed the rest of her tcha-bliss and said, "I'm going out," and I said, "Mom, look, look I've eaten all the chicken," as I stuck my spoon in the dune of rice, shoveling more into my mouth, and I said, "I'm still hungry. Will you make me some more chicken right now?" and she said to Letch, "I was trying tonight and you can't even give me that," and he said, "Stop it. I'm teasing. Watch," and he picked up his bony chicken leg and nibbled a little bite and said, "Satisfied?" and I shoved the last bit of crunchy rice into my mouth and said, "Can I have more chicken, please?" and my mom didn't even look at me, handing me her plate and saying to Letch, "Why can't you be nice?" and she finished her wine and poured herself more wine, and I ate all the chicken off of her bone, and crammed all the rice from her plate in my cheeks and I opened my mouth to say something, to tell her how amazing I thought her chicken was, but there was too much food and I choked a little, coughing and spitting rice all over the table. Neither of them looked at me. She said, "I'm gonna go out for a drink," and he said, "You never go out for just one drink," and I was coughing up rice but still trying to talk, I said, "This is the greatest chicken I've ever had in my life," and I coughed again, and she said to Letch, "What do you want from me?" and he said, "Learn how to take a joke," and she said, "As soon as you tell a funny one, I'll get it," and I coughed and said, "Man, this is superb chicken," and she said, "I'll be at the bar," and he said, "With who?" and I said, "Mom, would you mind making me more chicken?" and she said to him, "What do you care who I'm with?" and he said, "I care less and less every time," and she said, "This is the thanks I get for cooking," and I said, still chewing, still coughing, "Thanks so much for making the chicken, Mom," and Letch said, "Yeah, thanks," and she said, "Go to hell," and he said, "When did you lose your sense of humor?" and I was out of things to eat. My plate was clean. Her plate was clean. Letch's still had everything on it, except for his one tiny bite.
She got up, took her purse, and walked toward the door.
I said, "Where are you going?"
She said, "I'll see you later."
I said, "Later tonight?"
She said, "Maybe."
Ugly Smudges
