| WORLD VOICES DANCING FOR MY MOTHER
BY DUFF BRENNA |
Contents World
Voices Home |
control
your heaving
chest, wipe your eyes, and make the tears stop rolling. And try again
to eat
the onions. But no matter what, you just can’t do it. Pappas rages,
threatens,
tells you he is going to whip you with the belt. He slides it out of
his
trouser loops. Stands there like Lash La Rue, the whip snaking beside
his leg.
Your mother is watching, tears brimming in her eyes. In a pleading
voice she
begs, Oh, Duffy, won’t you please eat your onions for Mommy? Don’t make
Daddy
mad. One of the worst sins in the world is to waste food. People in
China are
starving. Be a good boy. Eat your onions. Swallow them with your milk. Swallow
them with your milk! Why
haven’t you thought of that? Bravely, you fork slimy, cold onions into
your
mouth. Drown them in great gulps of milk. The onions sliding worm-like.
You can
feel them burning your tummy, the nausea simmering, but the trauma is
over.
Carol Marie is back by then. The pony-picture man is gone. It’s getting
dark.
And the world turns. And turning with it is the frightening fact that
you are
in for it. In for the battle of your life. Part of you already knows it. There
are lots of books in the house.
Your mom is a reader. She fills the shelves and you pull the books out.
Scatter
them, pile them. Mom says that Carol Marie used to do the same thing
with pots
and pans. Banging them kept her entertained for hours. She lets you
bang the
books around as much as you want. Build walls out of them. Knock them
over.
Open the pages and pretend you’re reading. But when you’re finished you
have to
put them back on the shelves. You know which colors go next to which,
so the
books are always lined up the same way. Premonition: books have
something to do
with your future. Sort of sacred is what books become later. The
year-of-the-onions continues:
Pappas gathers several of the neighbor boys together in the living
room. He has
boxing gloves and says he is going to give everyone lessons. He ties
gloves on
you. Puts another pair on another kid. Who gives you a pounding. You
try
ducking and covering, turning your back, crouching, but all these
maneuvers
only make things worse. Pappas says that until you stand your ground
and fight
you can’t take the gloves off. Boys punch you around. When they get
tired they
hand the gloves off to the next boy in line. Eventually, you start
fighting
back. Your arms are so heavy you can barely raise them and throw a
punch. Your
nose is bleeding, blood running down your skeletal chest, blood
smearing your
arm when you wipe your nose. You are gasping for air. The air burning
your
throat. You feel like you are being murdered. To say the least it is
humiliating to be so weak and brittle. Shameful! In the end you curl on
the
floor and refuse to rise no matter how much Pappas berates you, no
matter what
he says: Stand up and fight, you yellow-bellied coward, you little
bedwetter!
It is the first time he calls you bedwetter, but it is far from the
last. The
other boys giggling. The word bedwetter whispering through the air.
Some kid
saying, What a sissy! Geez, my pa would kill him. Pappas picks you up
by your
neck and one leg, carries you to the bedroom and throws you onto your
bed. You
still have the gloves on. You will keep them for years and as you grow
you will
learn to use them. You will become a better than mediocre battler, but
you
never really like fist-fighting. As you get stronger there are plenty
of boys
you peck on. Many who peck on you as well. But one of your proudest
moments
comes when a boy you had beaten bloody shows up at the house with his
outraged
mother. After listening to outraged mother’s story, your mother turns
to you
and calls you a bully. You’re nothing but a goddamn bully! she says. A
bully! A
bully is a tough guy. Other kids are
afraid of bullies. Bullies are mean. Bullies will hurt you. You are a
bully. 5
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