PUNK PROSE: The Day Movers Took Linda's Things by Laniar D. Romon

The Day Movers Took Linda’s Things

Laniar D. Romon

 

I was screaming though my mouth was closed. I was crying though my eyes were dry. That’s because they were taking away Mom’s stuff, and Ray, her husband but not my father, just said something about her being crazy because she’d bought a gas stove ten years ago, but they only had electric. I watched them put it on a dolly and wondered why I hadn’t ever seen it before.

“Jace?”

I turned; it was Ray. The look in his eyes told me something he didn’t want me to know.

Screaming again, lips sealed.

“I didn’t mean that the way it came out,” he said. “I loved your mother very much.”

He was watching my every move so I nodded just so I could get away.

But he kept talking, cutting me off at the door.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

“Fine,” I lied.

“Yeah,” he said, softly. “You miss her as much as I do.”

Asshole!

“I do,” I swallowed the scream again. The last thing I needed was to piss him off because I had nowhere else to go, and this was his house. Nowhere to go, yet. Anyhow. I sighed and pretended I liked him enough to ask how he was holding up too.

“She was a good woman,” he said. “You know,” his tone changed, and he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. I hated when he did that, but he did it all the time. It was his move, I guess. It worked on my mom so why not expect it to work on everyone? Not me, Ray. “You can stay here as long as you need. This was as much your mother’s home as it is mine.”

“Thanks,” I said. I meant it but it didn’t come out that way.

“I mean it,” he said. “And if you still are thinking about Coastal, I can help you figure that out as well. Okay?”

Damn it, he made me cry. He pulled me in for a hug, and it wasn’t weird, and it wasn’t creepy, and it wasn’t pervy (like I always thought he was…). It was just warm and he was truly sorry that my mom left us when she did. Despite all of it, the screams, tears, and breath caught in my throat, it was just this little kind sentiment which let me sleep again after two shitty weeks.

I went to my room and closed the door. Why was I smiling? Why why why why why why why! Because she was there with me. In my room. And she was smiling, I could feel it. With my hand over my mouth. I could smell her perfume, and I said, “I love you, Mom,” and I knew everything was going to be okay. And though the prior couple of weeks were a total mess in my head, my heart was now doing the right thing.

And everything was okay after that.

--Laniar D. Romon