Miss Arlene told Mommy she wasn't thirsty, which made me happy. Because Mommy makes me get the drinks and I'm only eight years old. My hands are small and I'm not very strong. So carrying a tray with pitchers and glasses is heavy sometimes. Especially when I haven't had breakfast or lunch today. And I didn't get dinner yesterday. Just the sandwich she threw down to me sometime yesterday.
"The school mentioned Stephen hasn't been to class this week," Miss Arlene said.
"No, I know. Stephen's had a bit of a cold or a flu. He wasn't feeling well. His fever just broke yesterday and I know the school wants kids 24 hours fever free," Mommy said. I kept my eyes on the floor. I didn't have a cold. Mommy made me stay home. I was bad and I had to stay in my room in the basement.
"Stephen?" Miss Arlene asked me. I lifted my head just a little. I didn't want Miss Arlene to see the mark on my neck. "Are you feeling better?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said. Mommy smiled. Mommy has a really pretty smile. I wish she would smile more. But Mommy says she's got no reason to smile with me in her life.
"He was so sick at the beginning of the week. I was getting so worried because he couldn't keep anything down. I'm sure he lost some weight because of it," Mommy said. I knew better than to contradict her. Mommy didn't feed me on Monday or Tuesday. "But by Wednesday he seemed to be on the mend.
On Wednesday Mommy let me have a Pop Tart and some water.
"The school says you didn't call in to let them know that Stephen would be away," Miss Arlene said.
"No. I'm sorry. I must have forgotten. I was so consumed with taking care of him. His fever was pretty high. I almost took him to the hospital," Mommy said.
I doubted if I had been that sick, Mommy would take me to the hospital.
"Well, he looks alright. Will he be attending school tomorrow?" Miss Arlene asked.
"I think I'll keep him home one more day, make sure whatever bug he had is out of his system," Mommy said, putting her hand on the back of my head. She pulled it, just ever so that Miss Arlene didn't see, but I sure felt it. I tried to keep the tears out of my eyes so I pretended to yawn so I could wipe them away.
"He's been sleeping a lot this week and he's still so tired," Mommy said, smiling. I didn't like this smile. It was the one that looked nice to outsiders but I knew meant trouble. But all I'd done was yawn.
Miss Arlene looked at me.
"Stephen, are you alright?"
"Yes, ma'am. Just tired. From being sick," I said, hoping I sounded convincing. Hoping Mommy would be happy with my lie.
I saw Miss Arlene looking at the old coffee table with its cigarette burns on it, and I saw her notice some of the ash on the floor that Mommy had made me stop vacuuming. I saw the look in Mommy's eyes. I saw the anger flash across them. I was in trouble again because I didn't finish cleaning the ashes up.
"Has Stephen seen a doctor lately?" Miss Arlene asked.
"He had his physical a couple of months ago. Everything was fine. He's a little small for his age, but his dad wasn't a tall man, either. And he's a very picky eater," Mommy said.
My daddy wasn't tall? And I'm not a picky eater. I just only get what Mommy lets me have when Mommy lets me eat.
Miss Arlene nodded. I wanted to shout to her that I wasn't a picky eater. I started swinging my legs. Mommy touched my thigh and dug her nails in but Miss Arlene didn't notice how hard she was squeezing. Mommy is very good at not making it look like she's squeezing hard. I stopped kicking my legs and hoped Mommy would let go soon.
"Alright," Miss Arlene said. "Everything seems in order here. Stephen, is everything okay?"
Mommy's nails dug in deeper.
"Yes, ma'am," I said, trying to make my voice sound normal but Mommy was hurting my leg.
"Alright then. Cassidy, a pleasure to see you both doing well," Miss Arlene smiled. "Call me any time you need. You know we're here to help and support you."
Miss Arlene looked right at me when she said that.
Mommy walked Miss Arlene to the door after telling me to wait in the living room for her.
I heard the door close and knew Mommy was coming back angry. She walked heavier when she was mad.
First she ignored me completely. She walked past me and into the kitchen. She came back with a glass of something clear and was sipping it. I knew it wasn't water.
Mommy stood in front of me and looked down at me.
"Look at me you ungrateful bastard," Mommy said. I looked up at her, making my eyes soft and hoping she'd be merciful.
"When I tell you to clean the house I mean CLEAN THE FUCKING HOUSE! She saw the mess you left on the living room rug!"
Mommy grabbed my shirt and pulled me off the couch before pushing me to the floor.
"What's that all over the carpet, Stephen?" She yelled.
"It's ashes, Mommy," I said, coughing from having breathed some in.
"And why the fuck are there still ashes on the carpet, Stephen?"
"Because you asked..."
Mommy grabbed my hair and pulled me up.
"Ow! Mommy! Please. That hurts!" I cried.
"Oh it hurts, does it? Do you know how embarrassing it is for her to have seen that I can't keep a clean house? You useless sack of shit! Clean that shit up. NOW!" She pushed me back onto the floor. I hit the coffee table with my shoulder and it made a sound and really hurt.
I tried to get up but I couldn't use my left arm. And the pain was so bad. I started to cry.
"Stop that noise. Stop that now! You're fine! Just, ugh. Just go to your room! Get the fuck out of my face. I'll clean your mess. I don't want to see you again today. Just wait until Alex gets home."
I swallowed. Alex was ten times worse than Mommy.