It was after two-thirty that Friday afternoon at Gorham Middle School. We had just been dismissed from seventh grade homeroom after closing announcements ran late. As soon as I got outside, I looked for my father's old Lincoln, with no luck. After standing near the doors for about five minutes, I heard a familiar clunk.
As I got closer to the car, I realized it wasn't my father. My mother was struggling with the steering wheel, even though she'd already parked. She smiled when she saw me get in.
"Where's Dad?" I asked as I buckled up.
"Did you have a good day at school?" she responded, putting the car in gear.
"Dad usually picks me up from school..." I sighed.
"Felicity, I asked if you had a good day at school," she said, frowning.
"But, Mom..."
"Felicity Marie. Enough." she said as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. It was a good ten minutes before either of us spoke again.
I bounded into the house as soon as we got home. My mother had her hands full of groceries, but refused my help. We had barely been in the house for five minutes before she watched me set my backpack on the sofa, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
"Have you started your homework?" she asked, staring at my plain canvas backpack. I had barely reached for the buckle when she crossed her arms. "Felicity Marie. Now."
"Yes, ma'am."
She was about to put the groceries away when she saw me spreading my work across the table. Sighing, she put the bag aside and sat down next to me.
"Why are you always so careless?" she asked as she watched me reach for my French textbook. Shrugging, I turned to the page for the assignment. As I read the directions, she quietly rifled through my papers, shaking her head as she shook them into some semblance of order.
It took me about half an hour to finish the brief exercise, but by that time she had already organized the considerable pile into several smaller ones. She was watching me with her head in her hand, her eyes half-closed. She sat up as soon as she noticed I was looking.
"Are you finished?" she asked, reaching for my notebook. She frowned as she traced her finger over my handwriting. "Do it again. Neater this time."
We spent the next six hours going over each assignment, my hand cramping as I stopped to redo anything she didn't approve of. She only looked away to occasionally glance at the clock on the microwave. My stomach growled, supper long since forgotten.
By midnight I could hardly keep my head up, even though she kept staring at me. Taking one last look at the time, she sighed and stood up.
"Alright. Let's continue tomorrow," she said, stepping over the grocery bags as she headed for the door.
There was a knock at the door just as she was about to lock up for the night. She peered through the blinds and shook her head, slowly reaching for the doorknob.
My father was standing against the flimsy screen door as she opened the main one, his entire right side pressing against the mesh. A sour, yeasty smell wafted into the house. He was smiling as my mother backed up to let him in.
"Hey, Annie baby," he sputtered, nearly falling through the screen. It took him a moment to figure out how to get back inside.
My mother stood in front of the kitchen counter, hands on her hips as he stumbled in. He tottered towards her, stretching his arms out at the height of her shoulders.
"Aw, c'mon, Annie baby...give me a hug..." he muttered as she tried to push him away. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to his chest.
"Felicity...Felicity...go to your room!" she yelled as she continued to struggle. He turned his head and smiled at me, never letting go of my mother.
"Hi, Lissy-Doll! How ya doin', kiddo?" he panted, breathing into my mother's face.
"Felicity, go to your room," she yelled again. "And don't say a word!"
"Aw, c'mon, Annie, can't the kid say hi to her Daddy?"
"FELICITY. Go. To. Your. Room. Now!" she gasped, as he pulled her tighter. I backed into the hallway, but kept my eye on the two of them, retreating only so far into the darkness.
I watched as my mother shook her arm, hand clasped into a claw. The long since forgotten grocery bags lay at their feet. Just as my father was about to trip over one, she managed to pull it up and over her head.
BONK! The bag of cans came down on his head. My mother pulled away just as he dropped to the floor.
Dusting herself off, she stepped over his unconscious body and walked into the hallway. She looked down at me and set the bag down again.
"Felicity Marie. I thought I told you to go to bed," she said, watching as I scrambled to my bedroom door. "I'll take care of the mess in the morning."
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