Minnie is 14. She likes wearing bright red lipstick and getting high.
Right now, Tommy is arguing with her. "Vitto will be waiting for me then."
"He can wait longer," she tells him. "Tell him there was too many cops following you around or something."
"Yeah," Tommy says. "That might work. Vitto would believe that. Three different cops stopped me on the street this week."
"What?" Minnie almost shouted. "Oh, Tommy. They are on to you."
“No, they aren't."
But she knew. "For sure they are. Listen. Meet me outside the pool hall at 9:30. I'll havethe dope then, Tommy."
“No. I really should go see Vitto first.” He kisses her quickly on the forehead and then runs home to make himself some Kraft Dinner for supper.
When he walks in the front door, there is Momma with a bottle of whiskey tucked between her legs, her head rolled to the back of the couch, her mouth open.
"What the fuck, Momma?” Tommy slams the front door to wake her.
Momma starts her laughing, something she still knows how to do like a normal person. "Just a little nap, Tommy, c'mon..."
"No, you come on," he yells. "You come on and be a mother. What the fuck are you?"
"You are going to come in here and tell me what the fuck anything? In my goddamn house?” Tommy watches his mother's head snap up. Her long legs twisting unnaturally, as she staggers to her feet and points at him. "Fuck you, Tommy. You're just a no-good criminal like your father."
"Momma, shut-up, you're drunk."
"No shit," she laughs, walking towards him, finger loose and wagging, like her legs. She gets up close to him, into his face. "You'd be drunk too, if you had a bastard of a child like mine. Causing nothing but fucking problems all the time. People's parents, the police. Now your fucking principal calls me today. Whatcha gotta say about that, Tommy?"
"Don't you blame my dad for how I am. Maybe I'm a bastard because you're a worthless drunk," Tommy spits the words in her face.
Momma grabs him by his shirt and shakes him and Tommy watches her face and words that have no form fly from her lips.
It's two o'clock in the morning and she is still up, even though it is a Wednesday night and there will be school in the morning. She has already decided she would not go. She's been doing that a lot lately. It's getting too hard to go.
She could not stand the hateful stares and the constant whispers. She knows the teachers are offended by the sight of her. And keeping her head down had only gotten her tripped. And spit on by fucking Melissa Walker.
Laying on her back in her bed, Minnie pounds the thin mattress with her fists. She is angry.
She is angry most of all with Tommy because he had not shown-up that night. He had not met her at the arcade and so she has smoked the whole gram of hash to herself. Even though he had paid for it.
She smoked it in her room, not even bothering to open a window. It's not like her mother notices a damn thing anymore. Locked in the spare bedroom, with her over-the-counter sleeping pills. The ones she sends Minnie to get every few days."Get me three boxes. The purple boxes." A rattling of bones from the darkened room. Sometimes the alarm clock would go off for hours, playing rock songs on a background of static, before her mother would snap out of whatever those fucking yellow pills are doing for her. Forgetting, they are helping her forget, Minnie knows that now, wishing her mother would at least remember to buy groceries or pay the hydro bill on time, wishing everyone would forget about her.
In the darkness, Tommy's mind works out what his eyes could not. He is on his bed unsure if he had made it here on his own.
He has to piss.
Zipping up his jeans up and turning, Tommy sees a soft glow coming from the living room. Momma and her candles were going to burn down the house someday. Before he puts it out, he looks over at his mother, laying on the couch, her legs sprawled wide open and blood coming from her nose.
Tommy kneels beside her and puts his hand on her stomach.
Please, breathe... he thinks because he can't.
Tommy shows up, knocking at her window, now after three in the morning, and instead of running to open the side door to let him in, she just opens the window. Tommy's right eye is swollen shut and his white shirt is blotched with blood. "Did Vitto do that?" she asks him.
"Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, I forgot about Vitto. Quick. Let me in." She takes the shirt off of him, as soon as they are in the basement and standing next to her bed. "Tommy," she says, as he drops to her feet and sobs,"Why is it so hard? Why is it all so fucking hard?" His ragged fingernails scrape up her naked legs and she drops the ruined shirt, so she can run her hands through his hair.
And she cries because he is. Only quieter, so he won't know.
He pulls her down to the floor beside him and grabs her face and fills his mouth with hers. She runs her fingers over his bare chest and feels his heart racing beneath her fingertips. She does not resist, when he turns her around and undoes the zipper of his jeans and lifting the long shirt she is wearing, so he take her from behind. He reaches forward, grabbing her tits, squeezing hard, as he uses them to help push and pull his dick into and out of her.
It is over fast and collapses on her back, his mouth close to her ear. “Someday, Minnie, I am going to arrest that fucking bitch for everything I can.”
"You ain't gonna be no cop, Tommy," she says, as she untangles herself from him. "There's something you keep forgetting. Vitto."
She rolls him a roach joint, all that's left, mixed with the tobacco from one of his cigarettes; he does not ask her where the rest of it is. She lets him smoke the joint to himself.
Right now, Tommy is arguing with her. "Vitto will be waiting for me then."
"He can wait longer," she tells him. "Tell him there was too many cops following you around or something."
"Yeah," Tommy says. "That might work. Vitto would believe that. Three different cops stopped me on the street this week."
"What?" Minnie almost shouted. "Oh, Tommy. They are on to you."
“No, they aren't."
But she knew. "For sure they are. Listen. Meet me outside the pool hall at 9:30. I'll havethe dope then, Tommy."
“No. I really should go see Vitto first.” He kisses her quickly on the forehead and then runs home to make himself some Kraft Dinner for supper.
When he walks in the front door, there is Momma with a bottle of whiskey tucked between her legs, her head rolled to the back of the couch, her mouth open.
"What the fuck, Momma?” Tommy slams the front door to wake her.
Momma starts her laughing, something she still knows how to do like a normal person. "Just a little nap, Tommy, c'mon..."
"No, you come on," he yells. "You come on and be a mother. What the fuck are you?"
"You are going to come in here and tell me what the fuck anything? In my goddamn house?” Tommy watches his mother's head snap up. Her long legs twisting unnaturally, as she staggers to her feet and points at him. "Fuck you, Tommy. You're just a no-good criminal like your father."
"Momma, shut-up, you're drunk."
"No shit," she laughs, walking towards him, finger loose and wagging, like her legs. She gets up close to him, into his face. "You'd be drunk too, if you had a bastard of a child like mine. Causing nothing but fucking problems all the time. People's parents, the police. Now your fucking principal calls me today. Whatcha gotta say about that, Tommy?"
"Don't you blame my dad for how I am. Maybe I'm a bastard because you're a worthless drunk," Tommy spits the words in her face.
Momma grabs him by his shirt and shakes him and Tommy watches her face and words that have no form fly from her lips.
It's two o'clock in the morning and she is still up, even though it is a Wednesday night and there will be school in the morning. She has already decided she would not go. She's been doing that a lot lately. It's getting too hard to go.
She could not stand the hateful stares and the constant whispers. She knows the teachers are offended by the sight of her. And keeping her head down had only gotten her tripped. And spit on by fucking Melissa Walker.
Laying on her back in her bed, Minnie pounds the thin mattress with her fists. She is angry.
She is angry most of all with Tommy because he had not shown-up that night. He had not met her at the arcade and so she has smoked the whole gram of hash to herself. Even though he had paid for it.
She smoked it in her room, not even bothering to open a window. It's not like her mother notices a damn thing anymore. Locked in the spare bedroom, with her over-the-counter sleeping pills. The ones she sends Minnie to get every few days."Get me three boxes. The purple boxes." A rattling of bones from the darkened room. Sometimes the alarm clock would go off for hours, playing rock songs on a background of static, before her mother would snap out of whatever those fucking yellow pills are doing for her. Forgetting, they are helping her forget, Minnie knows that now, wishing her mother would at least remember to buy groceries or pay the hydro bill on time, wishing everyone would forget about her.
In the darkness, Tommy's mind works out what his eyes could not. He is on his bed unsure if he had made it here on his own.
He has to piss.
Zipping up his jeans up and turning, Tommy sees a soft glow coming from the living room. Momma and her candles were going to burn down the house someday. Before he puts it out, he looks over at his mother, laying on the couch, her legs sprawled wide open and blood coming from her nose.
Tommy kneels beside her and puts his hand on her stomach.
Please, breathe... he thinks because he can't.
Tommy shows up, knocking at her window, now after three in the morning, and instead of running to open the side door to let him in, she just opens the window. Tommy's right eye is swollen shut and his white shirt is blotched with blood. "Did Vitto do that?" she asks him.
"Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, I forgot about Vitto. Quick. Let me in." She takes the shirt off of him, as soon as they are in the basement and standing next to her bed. "Tommy," she says, as he drops to her feet and sobs,"Why is it so hard? Why is it all so fucking hard?" His ragged fingernails scrape up her naked legs and she drops the ruined shirt, so she can run her hands through his hair.
And she cries because he is. Only quieter, so he won't know.
He pulls her down to the floor beside him and grabs her face and fills his mouth with hers. She runs her fingers over his bare chest and feels his heart racing beneath her fingertips. She does not resist, when he turns her around and undoes the zipper of his jeans and lifting the long shirt she is wearing, so he take her from behind. He reaches forward, grabbing her tits, squeezing hard, as he uses them to help push and pull his dick into and out of her.
It is over fast and collapses on her back, his mouth close to her ear. “Someday, Minnie, I am going to arrest that fucking bitch for everything I can.”
"You ain't gonna be no cop, Tommy," she says, as she untangles herself from him. "There's something you keep forgetting. Vitto."
She rolls him a roach joint, all that's left, mixed with the tobacco from one of his cigarettes; he does not ask her where the rest of it is. She lets him smoke the joint to himself.
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