what you get

it killed her to watch her child board the bus every day. actors' daughters do NOT attend public school, she'd later rage to her older, heavier reflection. she'd planned to be married and divorced by now, cushioned by alimony and child support payments. support in fact was unreliable and paltry, an embarrassment when she did receive it. she mourned her lost 20s.

velvet ropes used to part for her, offering rich fat fruit for plucking. athletes with expensive cars wore the finest clothing but rarely condoms; musicians were a gamble either way. the handsome, recurring character whose face was now reflected in her daughter's evidently did not, but she couldn’t really remember that night. she sipped coffee and browsed through her closet, past the sweatsuits and mom clothes, blazers and comfortable shoes. black stilettos, black slipdress. artifacts. but there was a basketball game later that evening and a pair of spanx in her top drawer.

yule see

eggnog is for christmas parties and this one has to be perfect, she says. pick up some and a box of crackers on your way home.  she cares what our friends think, even though our friends are stupid and want to watch the big chill every year and get high.

the year end wrap up editions slump in the magazine racks along the checkout line.  i notice them when i look away from the blinding holiday sweater in front of me with jingling bells on the shoulder.  is that all you have, the sweater turns and asks, just the two things?  i nod at the eggnog and crackers in my hands.  she waves me in front of her.  you go ahead.  she smells like old lady perfume, the kind my mother would spritz to cover the alcohol on her breath and in her pores.


thank you, i reply.  i place my items on the belt and grab a bottle out of the impulse fridge.  i twist the cap off and soda sprays everywhere, a forceful bubbly jetstream that covers both of us.  the wide eyed cashier slowly calls for a cleanup at her register.  i apologize to everyone for choosing the wrong soda and purchase the sticky items.  i apologize to the sweater but not the perfume.