“I like stuff. I’m going to marry a man and have two kids. Twins like me and Izzy so they have someone to play with. My car is going to be a white one with two backseats. And my house is going to have a swimming pool and a swing set and a sandbox,” I rattled on while we drove through the city, mirrored windows and skyscrapers everywhere.
“I’m going to drive a blimp,” Izzy put it simply.
I could see the sadness in my mom’s eyes when she looked at me. I couldn’t help it. I did want a house with a yard and pool. No way was I going to grow up and live in a thousand places. Maybe I would live in California or Oklahoma. We stayed at a ladies house there once on a horse farm. Izzy and I wanted to stay there, but my mom wouldn’t let us.
“That’s why people eat animals, ya know. If people would have been happy with what they had, animals wouldn’t have to die. It’s a cruel pleasure. One that you don’t want, Clydes,” she assured us with great intent. “The world would be a better place if everyone could stop wanting more. God gave us what we needed and our egos wanted more. You don’t need stuff to be happy. You remember that. You hear me, Clydes?” She didn’t acknowledge us through the mirror, so neither of us answered.
“Where’re we going?” Izzy asked at precisely the same moment I said it. We did that a lot. Saying things at the same time, or finishing each other’s sentences.
“Remember a few months back when we met Brice? The guy with the big dog?”
“Yes, his name was Pluto,” I said as I remembered the dog. His head came all the way to my chin. I liked Brice. His tent was close to ours when we stayed on the beach.
The car got quiet once my mother started to concentrate on the directions scribbled on a McDonald’s bag. Izzy and I felt out our surroundings with a knowing look toward each other. She didn’t feel right either. I read it in her face.
We parked on the street in the middle of a slum neighborhood and walked up four stories. The elevator was broke. We both complained after the first flight.
The feelings Izzy and I shared in the car continued throughout the evening. We mostly watched Nickelodeon on a musty stench mattress thrown in the corner of the room. My mom, along with Brice and two other guys, smoked weed and drank out of the same bottle of booze. We got one piece of pizza each before we went to bed, on the dirty mattress. My mom kissed us both goodnight, promising to move on first thing in the morning.
She knew we weren’t in a good place, and she felt guilty for putting us there, but she still did it. Every single time. If there were men, drugs, and alcohol she was there. Especially if they were free. Not that they were ever really free, not even that night.
Izzy and I never talked about it, but we knew what went on in the next room. We knew our mother didn’t go into a room with three guys to sleep. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.
“I hate it when she does that,” I whispered to Izzy while we pretended to be asleep. Brice flipped a needle in the air while my mom held out her arm. Instantly, her head fell back and she sucked in a deep breath.
“Fuck, yeah,” she called out.
“It’s okay, Gabby. We’ll leave in the morning. She said so. She promised.” Izzy held my hand and I held hers, never taking my eyes off my mom. Ten minutes later, and all three guys were touching her. She let them. She even kissed them on the lips with opened mouths and all.
One of the guys put his hands inside her pants and she moaned, but only for a second. She made him stop long enough to take them to the bedroom. Away from Izzy and me.
I closed my eyes and tried not to hear the noises. Try not to focus on what I knew went on behind the closed door. What Izzy knew. This wasn’t our first go-around, but it would be our last.
One of the guys started yelling and we knew it was at our mom.
“What the fuck are you doing? Get in here!”
“Dude, get the fuck in the window,” another one said. That one was Brice.
“Yo, get in here kids,” the skinny guy said from the door. “Your mother’s gone whacko, can’t handle her drugs.”
We both got up and walked to the man closing his fly.
“Mom! What are you doing? Stop. You’re scaring us,” Izzy yelled, feet flying toward the fire escape behind the window.
I didn’t go to her. I stood back, seeing my mother balance herself naked on the metal railing. My heart pounded out of my chest and tears formed behind my eyes.
“Mom! Come in here. Please!” Izzy begged.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay, Clydes. This isn’t the end. There’s more after this. This is only a hint, an experience in a human body.”
“Mom, please,” Izzy pleaded, tears streaming down her face. Brice stopped her when she tried to climb out, too. I still didn’t move. I couldn’t. My feet stayed planted while I watched my mom, arms out to her sides, balancing on a thin bar. Naked as a jaybird, and crazy in her head.
The rest is a permanent implant, tattooed in my brain. Her right foot went first, and for a quick second, I thought she recovered. She fell, one leg catching on the bar. Her hands caught the ledge, but she didn’t hold on. She let go. Her fingers straightened out as if she’d done it on purpose and she let go. She let go. She let go.