"Is your father here?" The woman said, sighing. She took off her
thick, dark sunglasses, revealing a woman who looked ten years older than
she should have. Her face had grown rigid and tan. More wrinkels and
creases stretched through parts of her face. Her hand seemed to shake
slightly as she removed her glasses.
"Mom," Gordo said breathlessly, feeling unable to speak. He didn't know if he wanted to hug her or hit her. His mother stepped into the door forcefully, as Gordo took a step back. He bumped slightly into Lizzie as she now stood on the bottom step looking scared and confused. A tall man stepped in behind Gordo's mother. The man had sandy brown hair and it seemed that he may have been attractive at a younger age, but now he simply looked worn and tired.
"This is Frank," his mother said, reading the children's expressions. Without elaborating, she quickly changed the subject. "Hello, Lizzie, why are you here?"
Lizzie opened her mouth to answer, but Gordo interjected. "We're friends mom, we hang out sometimes." Gordo didn't want his mother to know the truth. She didn't care. She didn't deserve to know about his personal life.
"Well, I know, I just thought- ," her voice trailed off as her eyes scanned the room. "Where's your father."
Gordo hesitated. He wanted to say that his father was up in his office working on something, or maybe making dinner or even just watching television. Gordo wanted everything to look fine, like they were gettng along just great without her. He didn't want her to know that he hadn't exactly spoken to his father in months. That all he really knew was that his father came home smelling like whisky and cigarettes and sometimes he heard woman laughing downstairs, late at night. That at this moment, Gordo's father may be lying dead in a gutter somewhere. That his father could have been there for days and Gordo would have had no idea. His mind fluttered as he searched for an appropriate lie. Giving up he shrugged, trying to look like he was simply an air headed teenager and said, "I don't know."
"Figures. Well, I guess I can leave these with you." She handed Gordo a manilla envelope filled with papers.
"What's all this," Gordo asked, looking backward at Lizzie, who still had the same look of shock and disillusion, yet now a certain hint of disgust had been added to the mix.
"Divorce papers. I want it in writing. You know, you're really the one I wanted to talk to anyway. Can I come in, Sweetie?" At this, she barged her way into the house and made for the living room. Frank followed close behind, his broad shoulders sloping uncomforably as he glanced nervously around the house. The two sat down on the couch and Gordo and Lizzie followed suit. "David, sweetie," his mother said in a sugar coated voice, smiling brightly, "how would you like to come live with mommy? Wouldn't it be fun? Just you and me, and Frank."
Gordo's pale sapphire eyes widened at the thought of it. His brain fired off messages to his nerves that said, 'Shake your head', 'Say no', 'Run away', however, Gordo seemed to be able to do nothing more than sit there astounded. Lizzie spoke for him. "No," she spouted, a bit over enthusiastically. "I mean," she continued, biting her lip and turning to Gordo, "you can't leave. You have such a good life here. You've been here forever. This is where your friends are. You can't just leave all that behind."
Gordo attempted to respond, yet still could not move. Eyes growing wider, he simply stared at his mother who was looking through her purse. There was a long silence, broken only as his mother found what she was looking for. "There you are, my babies," she said sweetly, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. As she took one from the package and lit it, a long strand of pearly smoke poured out. Seemingly, it was upside down. The smoke looked so much like a liquid, yet it poured upward. Dancing majestically, Gordo focused on it. His stare was broken by his mother's stern voice. "Listen, we'll still be close enough for you to visit once in a while. You know, it would be better if you just agreed to it."
Lizzie's look grew stronger. "Why is that?"
"Because," his mother continued, looking ambiguously put off, "I'm going to fight to win you in court if you don't come willingly. And mother's always win."
Now it was Gordo's turn to get angry. "Win? Win me in court? You know, I've never really put the image of our justice system together with a cheap carnival until now."
"Look, I didn't mean it like that." His mother paused nonchallantly, taking a long drag on her cigarette. Then she continued, completely unconvincingly, "I just want my baby back. I want you to stay with me." Reaching out a hand she grasped his knee and rubbed lightly. "I missed you kiddo."
Gordo looked almost hurt at this answer. This was all wrong. Even if he wanted to forgive her, how could he? This woman was not his mother. This was an imposter. She seemed more like a teenager. A pathetic, drunk teenager with no real goals in life. How did this life make her happier than the one she'd been leading? Once again, Lizzie spoke up. "Oh, cut it out. If someone paid you I don't think you could have been more unconvincing than that. Why don't you just be honest? Tell us, why you really want Gordo to live with you.
His mother was teeming with rage as she blew the smoke quickly through her nostrils. Attempting to regain her casual appearance, she leaned forward to tap a few pallid ashes into the crystal ashtray. Lips pursed into a stern expression, she looked down, determined not to make eye contact with anyone in the room. Then, suddenly, a different look spread across his mother's face as she began to cry. "Is it so much to want my son to live with me? My only son. Is that so much to fucking ask? Can't you just except that I love you?"
At this, Lizzie's expression softened into one of guilt at apparently misjudging the woman in front of her. Gordo however, seemed angrier than ever. "Stop it, just stop it. You know I can see right through you. I lived with you for sixteen years. I think I know a little bit about your methods of attention seeking, ma," he said with a tinge of sarcasm. "Stop it," he screamed, even louder as her weeping continued. As suddenly as they had started, the tears came to a halt. "Look, I don't, I don't," Gordo's own eyes began to well slightly as his lip quivered. He contained himself, holding in whatever he was about to say.
"Well, maybe we should just let the courts decide. Have your father sign the papers, whenever he gets in. Is he drinking again," his mother added, smirking. "That'll be great for the case. Bye, then, sweetie." The last word was spoken, not in the sugar coated tone she had used before, but in a more snide, sarcastic tone. Gordo watched as the two figures stood and walked out the door. Lizzie's face had a cold, numb look. She looked the way Gordo felt on the inside. Only his was coupled with embarrassment at the way his mother had changed, at the things she did and said. The outfit she wore that was far too young for her. He'd noticed her hair was brittle from being re-died platinum blonde. Lizzie softly bit and her bottom lip. Carefully, she stole a glance at Gordo, searching for his emotion. However, his face showed nothing but a caloused, stern look. There was a hint of disappointment, yet mostly, his mood seemed an impenetratable fortress.
"I think I need to be alone," he said very slowly, in almost a whisper, as if it pained him to speak. Lizzie simply nodded, strips of her blonde hair flinging restlessly. She leaned over to kiss him. He did not return the kiss, but she understood. "Bye," he said, a little louder, with a very sincere longing in his voice.
"Goodnight," she whispered back.
"Mom," Gordo said breathlessly, feeling unable to speak. He didn't know if he wanted to hug her or hit her. His mother stepped into the door forcefully, as Gordo took a step back. He bumped slightly into Lizzie as she now stood on the bottom step looking scared and confused. A tall man stepped in behind Gordo's mother. The man had sandy brown hair and it seemed that he may have been attractive at a younger age, but now he simply looked worn and tired.
"This is Frank," his mother said, reading the children's expressions. Without elaborating, she quickly changed the subject. "Hello, Lizzie, why are you here?"
Lizzie opened her mouth to answer, but Gordo interjected. "We're friends mom, we hang out sometimes." Gordo didn't want his mother to know the truth. She didn't care. She didn't deserve to know about his personal life.
"Well, I know, I just thought- ," her voice trailed off as her eyes scanned the room. "Where's your father."
Gordo hesitated. He wanted to say that his father was up in his office working on something, or maybe making dinner or even just watching television. Gordo wanted everything to look fine, like they were gettng along just great without her. He didn't want her to know that he hadn't exactly spoken to his father in months. That all he really knew was that his father came home smelling like whisky and cigarettes and sometimes he heard woman laughing downstairs, late at night. That at this moment, Gordo's father may be lying dead in a gutter somewhere. That his father could have been there for days and Gordo would have had no idea. His mind fluttered as he searched for an appropriate lie. Giving up he shrugged, trying to look like he was simply an air headed teenager and said, "I don't know."
"Figures. Well, I guess I can leave these with you." She handed Gordo a manilla envelope filled with papers.
"What's all this," Gordo asked, looking backward at Lizzie, who still had the same look of shock and disillusion, yet now a certain hint of disgust had been added to the mix.
"Divorce papers. I want it in writing. You know, you're really the one I wanted to talk to anyway. Can I come in, Sweetie?" At this, she barged her way into the house and made for the living room. Frank followed close behind, his broad shoulders sloping uncomforably as he glanced nervously around the house. The two sat down on the couch and Gordo and Lizzie followed suit. "David, sweetie," his mother said in a sugar coated voice, smiling brightly, "how would you like to come live with mommy? Wouldn't it be fun? Just you and me, and Frank."
Gordo's pale sapphire eyes widened at the thought of it. His brain fired off messages to his nerves that said, 'Shake your head', 'Say no', 'Run away', however, Gordo seemed to be able to do nothing more than sit there astounded. Lizzie spoke for him. "No," she spouted, a bit over enthusiastically. "I mean," she continued, biting her lip and turning to Gordo, "you can't leave. You have such a good life here. You've been here forever. This is where your friends are. You can't just leave all that behind."
Gordo attempted to respond, yet still could not move. Eyes growing wider, he simply stared at his mother who was looking through her purse. There was a long silence, broken only as his mother found what she was looking for. "There you are, my babies," she said sweetly, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. As she took one from the package and lit it, a long strand of pearly smoke poured out. Seemingly, it was upside down. The smoke looked so much like a liquid, yet it poured upward. Dancing majestically, Gordo focused on it. His stare was broken by his mother's stern voice. "Listen, we'll still be close enough for you to visit once in a while. You know, it would be better if you just agreed to it."
Lizzie's look grew stronger. "Why is that?"
"Because," his mother continued, looking ambiguously put off, "I'm going to fight to win you in court if you don't come willingly. And mother's always win."
Now it was Gordo's turn to get angry. "Win? Win me in court? You know, I've never really put the image of our justice system together with a cheap carnival until now."
"Look, I didn't mean it like that." His mother paused nonchallantly, taking a long drag on her cigarette. Then she continued, completely unconvincingly, "I just want my baby back. I want you to stay with me." Reaching out a hand she grasped his knee and rubbed lightly. "I missed you kiddo."
Gordo looked almost hurt at this answer. This was all wrong. Even if he wanted to forgive her, how could he? This woman was not his mother. This was an imposter. She seemed more like a teenager. A pathetic, drunk teenager with no real goals in life. How did this life make her happier than the one she'd been leading? Once again, Lizzie spoke up. "Oh, cut it out. If someone paid you I don't think you could have been more unconvincing than that. Why don't you just be honest? Tell us, why you really want Gordo to live with you.
His mother was teeming with rage as she blew the smoke quickly through her nostrils. Attempting to regain her casual appearance, she leaned forward to tap a few pallid ashes into the crystal ashtray. Lips pursed into a stern expression, she looked down, determined not to make eye contact with anyone in the room. Then, suddenly, a different look spread across his mother's face as she began to cry. "Is it so much to want my son to live with me? My only son. Is that so much to fucking ask? Can't you just except that I love you?"
At this, Lizzie's expression softened into one of guilt at apparently misjudging the woman in front of her. Gordo however, seemed angrier than ever. "Stop it, just stop it. You know I can see right through you. I lived with you for sixteen years. I think I know a little bit about your methods of attention seeking, ma," he said with a tinge of sarcasm. "Stop it," he screamed, even louder as her weeping continued. As suddenly as they had started, the tears came to a halt. "Look, I don't, I don't," Gordo's own eyes began to well slightly as his lip quivered. He contained himself, holding in whatever he was about to say.
"Well, maybe we should just let the courts decide. Have your father sign the papers, whenever he gets in. Is he drinking again," his mother added, smirking. "That'll be great for the case. Bye, then, sweetie." The last word was spoken, not in the sugar coated tone she had used before, but in a more snide, sarcastic tone. Gordo watched as the two figures stood and walked out the door. Lizzie's face had a cold, numb look. She looked the way Gordo felt on the inside. Only his was coupled with embarrassment at the way his mother had changed, at the things she did and said. The outfit she wore that was far too young for her. He'd noticed her hair was brittle from being re-died platinum blonde. Lizzie softly bit and her bottom lip. Carefully, she stole a glance at Gordo, searching for his emotion. However, his face showed nothing but a caloused, stern look. There was a hint of disappointment, yet mostly, his mood seemed an impenetratable fortress.
"I think I need to be alone," he said very slowly, in almost a whisper, as if it pained him to speak. Lizzie simply nodded, strips of her blonde hair flinging restlessly. She leaned over to kiss him. He did not return the kiss, but she understood. "Bye," he said, a little louder, with a very sincere longing in his voice.
"Goodnight," she whispered back.
