Bahama Mamma

Wake up; She’s home. You know what to do. Act as if it isn’t three o’clock in the morning, act as if you don’t have school tomorrow, act as if you are fine cause you know if you don’t it will just make everything worse. Face away from the door so if in a drunken rage She decides to come barging in She doesn’t see how much of a mess you are because despite how much you tell yourself not to, you are letting your emotions out. Pretend you don’t want to go out there and tell Her what you think. Pretend this isn’t exactly like Her. Pretend this isn’t your life because you can no longer pretend this is all somehow normal. Pretend you haven’t raised your siblings because your “parents” either walked out or turned to drugs and alcohol. Yes, pretend until you feel better, but do not forget your reality. Remember your place. Remember She is the “adult”, not you. Remember that She will always pull the “At least I’m here” card. Remember how She manipulates the love you have for Her. Remember to ignore the word of an alcoholic with a hangover because it is not good. Ignore the crashing of pots and pans and glass cups hitting the floor, ignore the screaming, ignore the thunderous laughter, ignore the presence of yet another stranger’s voice, ignore the never-ending sobs, ignore the monstrous thuds of drunken feet. Ignore all of that, but listen for footsteps coming from your closet, and wait for it to open. Listen for your little brother’s hushed voice asking for the third night to sleep in your room. Remind him to shut the door the special way so it doesn’t make noise; move your pillow over and let him have the other half of your queen-size. Assure him that she has passed out even though you are unsure if she has passed out or has passed on from alcohol poisoning. Wait for him to fall asleep. You don’t sleep. You see the light of day, and you continue to wait, wait for the clock to reach seven-thirty. Wake your brother for school, remind him to be silent as he gets ready. Go take note of the damages and find the safest and quietest route to the front door. Do not look in Her room; you’ll just be disappointed. Just listen for Her to stir. All clear. Tell your brother to walk to school, tell him you are not going because you have to take care of things, tell him not to come home after school, but instead go to Nana’s. Tell him you love him and that you’ll see him after school. Send him off. Call Nana; tell her everything, even the violent stuff, tell her that you and your brother can’t stay with Her anymore. Hold your breath in case Nana doesn’t understand, and let that breathe fall to the floor when Nana tells you Papal is coming to get you. Turn off the lights, and just before you leave whisper a parting “I love you” because after all, She is still your mother.