Mother (Second Variation)
Jack. She holds my face. Holds it tight, pushing my cheeks in like this.
Jack pushes his cheeks in.
‘Look at that face’, she says. Obviously I can’t. My mother is a particularly stupid beast, right? She is not smart whichever way you look at it. She was attractive once, I’ve seen the pictures. But mostly she’s unintelligent. And this is a case in point because she’s stood holding my head like a. Like a clamp. And telling me to look at my own face. Behind me my driver’s side door’s open and all my worldy possessions are in the back seat, and round here’s the kind of place you lose a fight before you know you’re in one, if you get me. So she starts on about how young I am and I’m having to stare back at her because she’s not giving me any choice. And then she says ‘don’t waste it’.
And I say, waste what?
And she holds my face tighter, and says ‘What you’ve got’.
I’m just like, what the fuck? ‘I won’t’, I say.
‘Not like me’, she says. And then she starts to cry a bit, and says ‘if I had it all back, I’d probably just waste it again.’