Untitled - ScholarWorks Home - California State University, Northridge
Untitled - ScholarWorks Home - California State University, Northridge
Untitled - ScholarWorks Home - California State University, Northridge
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to attend.<br />
"I'm right here."<br />
"I've finished!"<br />
I bite. "Finished what?"<br />
'"What it Means to be a Christian Wife,' by Mrs. Charity Tucker." She<br />
flails one arm up in the air. It looks like a long flat gooey balloon.<br />
"Great. Does she get laid?"<br />
She snorts and rolls onto her belly. She props herself up onto her<br />
elbows. I think this display is not for comfort, for how can it be comfortable,<br />
but more to show me that she can do it. "An angel named Tucker comes to<br />
town and rejuvenates her spirits, and marries her." She lets her eyes roll round<br />
a couple of times and then closes them tight like she's reliving some Danielle<br />
Steele moment. She licks her lips and sighs, girly and long.<br />
pukey."<br />
"And he doesn't see or speak to her for six months," I say. "Sounds<br />
"You're in it and so is mom! You're the younger asshole brother who<br />
tries to thwart all that is good in the world."<br />
I join her on the bed. There's ample room for me even though her<br />
weight is creeping back up. I try not to think about what that might mean.<br />
She's cloaked in layers of loose skin but wears tighter clothes, I presume, to<br />
keep from drowning in her own flesh.<br />
"I think mom's drunk," I say as I plump at one of her old pillows and<br />
jam it under the small of my back.<br />
"No way," she hisses. "She's got a cold. It's Nyquil," she says, rocking<br />
on her elbows. "You're such a pessimist."<br />
"At least she's awake," I say, with what I think sounds like optimism.<br />
That night I try to sleep but can't. My stupid fat sister is breathing bet<br />
ter. The Mississippi holds are not so long. I can hear her long wet snores<br />
through our wall. I flip on the television. It's 4:00AM. Back to back vignettes<br />
of my sister's wedding are being shown on Tucker's infomercial. Her hair is<br />
slicked back and a braided crown alights the top of her head. She's swathed<br />
head to toe in canary yellow. She turns her face toward the camera and smiles.<br />
Oxygen tubes connected to nothing poke out of her nose. A dramatic, meaning<br />
less display. I snort. Tucker, naked above the waist except for a white bow tie,<br />
jogs down the aisle toward his beaming bride high-fiving the phony guests as<br />
he goes. He kisses my sister 's swollen cheek and then turns toward the camera<br />
and shouts, "How bad do you want it?" I don't laugh at Tucker as I normally<br />
would. I'm caught off guard by a glimpse of my mother. She's standing next to<br />
45