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AFTER THE DELUGE e knew it was better just to ignore her, stay out of her way. “These clothes are dirty,” she said from the laundry room. “You boys need new clothes.” We could hear doors opening and closing. Water filling the washing machine. Mama hid a bottle of vodka in one of the cabinets. We found it over the summer and I took a mouthful like I saw cowboys do on TV. I remember it burned and made my stomach warm. My head was light. Billy only took a sip, holding the bottle in both hands. He cried and I made him macaroni and cheese in the microwave. I forgot to boil the noodles and it was crunchy, but we
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ate it anyway and fell asleep. She came in the kitchen. Me and Billy were sitting at the table playing a card game I learned at school. There was a cake on the table. It was Billy’s birthday yesterday. He was eight now. She looked at the cake. “Where’d that come from,” she said. “Aunt Sarah brought it yesterday,” Billy said. “Happy birthday,” she said. She went to the sink and poured a glass of water. “Make sure the firewood is stacked before your father gets home.” We stood up. I turned Billy’s cards over. He had me beat. “Damn,” I said. He smiled. We went outside and loaded wood
into the splitter. We learned a long time ago to do things the first time we were asked. Papa wasn’t a drunk like Mama, though he did drink once in awhile. At least she had a reason for the way she acted. He was mostly just a mean son of a bitch. Said his family had always been down. Ever since the flood that tore apart the land a century ago. Mama passed us on her way to the car. Said she was going to get us new clothes. She wasn’t supposed to be driving. They already took her license away. Papa hid the keys to the wagon, but she found them and made copies that she also hid. Whenever she’d come home he would yell at her. They were always yelling.
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Flight Pattern (the feather) by Paul Santoleri © 2013
