Momma

Sunday

She sat on the edge of her bed and looked at her bare feet, her cold feet. The nylon scratched all her skin, when she inched the panty hose up her leg.
It was summer.
And Momma was tired.
She stood and put on the navy dress. The one with the white collar.
The only dress that owned a hanger.
... and white shoes look best, she thought; not even aware she had.

Tommy was waiting, sitting on the front porch. He looked uncomfortable in his brown corduroys and white shirt. Momma thought he looked like an angel.
"You look like an angel, Tommy," she told him, too.
"Why are we going over there?" Tommy demanded; chin slamming into his palms and elbows on knees.
"Because we have to," she replied.
"No one is even there. Why do I have to go with you?"
In case I get caught, she answered Tommy; and only to herself.

She could feel the itch and trickle of sweat down her back. A bare hot leaving her skin scratched more. The sun; bald and white. The heat of the sidewalk burned through her shoes and disagreed with her soles, as they walked along. Tommy trudging three steps behind her, until now.
Now he was walking beside her and staring at her.
"Sometimes, I pretend my tongue is a hammer and I can bash out my own teeth with it," he said.
And Momma wanted to tell him what a wonderful idea that was, but it did not seem like a train of thought she should encourage.
Instead, she tapped her tongue against her teeth.
Then she looked back over at Tommy. He was looking straight ahead. He was breathing out of his mouth like an animal. Then she noticed that she was doing it, too.
"You know they are at church, Momma," Tommy insisted, turning his head back towards her.

The blast of cool air, when they walked in the side door of the house hit Tommy's arms. Reminded them to sweat.
He followed Momma up the three steps into Aunt Lynn's kitchen.
He saw Grandma's egg holder sitting beside the sink. Every morning she had an egg. Every morning. Grandma told him all the time.

A pound of hamburger. A loaf of bread. Two cans of soup. Some potatos.
Tommy was sitting in the living room, watching the television.
Momma walked in and handed Tommy a slice of the take-out pizza, that she found sitting in the refrigerator.
"I have to go to the washroom, Tommy; then we can go."
"I didn't change the channel, Momma," he said.
"Okay, Tommy," she answered him. She did not know what else to say.

Tommy was fast. Momma was in the bathroom and he zipped into the kitchen.
Tommy had seen a five dollar bill sitting on the kitchen table.

Momma watched him from the hallway; watched Tommy put the money into his pocket.
Momma said nothing and Tommy snuck himself back into the living room.