Four In The Afternoon

Seven Years Old

Momma's shirt slipped from her shoulders as she leaned over trying to concentrate. The sunshine from the window hit her hair just right, sending a halo of pure white around her head. As she sat at the kitchen table, she almost looked beautiful. If only her bones did not appear so sharp.
"Hold still Sissy," she said, annoyed. The red nail polish coated thick on the little girl's fingers, wet and sticky on her skin. Small bubbles of it splattered the yellow Formica.
"I am," whined Sissy, but she really wasn't. It was not too often she caught Momma's attention and it excited her.
Momma reached for her drink with shaky hands. Tommy watched the sweet brown liquid spill and trail down her arm, a long thin stream. Momma raised her arm a little higher and tasted her arm, licking it all off in one quick moment with the tip of her tongue.
"Waste not, want not," she brought her head back up.
"Momma, I am hungry," Tommy spoke.
She turned to look at him, nostrils full of annoyance. "Tommy, hold on. Can't you see I am busy doing your sister's nails?"
"Yeah, so can I have one of the apples Aunt Lynn brought over?" he asked, quieter than he had spoke before.
"Tommy, just wait," she sighed.
But Tommy was getting mad. He had been getting madder all day.
"Momma, I have not had anything to eat since last night."
Momma snapped her head up, fast with anger. "Will you give me a fucking minute?" she said.
Tommy looked his mother in the eyes, until she turned away, back to Sissy's nails.
Tommy walked over to the refrigerator, his shoulders high, his footsteps firm.
He took a red, red apple from the crisper.
He leaned on the table between his Momma and sister, with the apple up to his lips.
As she started to raise her head, Tommy took a large bite, crunching, letting the juice and spit slightly coat his fingers.
Her lips pulled back and her arm reached out fast.
She slammed Tommy's face into the edge of the table.
There was so much blood.
Sissy started to scream.
Tommy brought his head slowly up. He was not crying. He breathed normally. He stared at her until finally she wiped her mouth with her pale, colourless hand, then raised her face to him. He looked deep into the depths of her eyes, so he would never forget.
"I will not remember your birthday, either, Momma."