Now, as an adult, I don’t think Ma’s obsessed with stuff, at least not for stuff’s sake
Through the years, on late nights, when she ached from the creases in her body and the cracks in the lead-painted walls, she woke me out of sleep in Brooklyn to cry. I’m just so tired. She told me again of her age, her loneliness, the fat packed on her bones, and the debt attached to her name. I rolled my eyes and put the phone on the https://guaranteedinstallmentloans.com/payday-loans-hi/ other side of the couch as I spread myself over it. Barely listening, I imagined what it would be like if Ma and I talked of new movies and sermons, the tender, smothered neck bones that salted the air as we slept last night. Our thoughts on Wendy’s latest, my doodles, that strange thing Jesus said. I’m tired too, I tell her. I don’t say her grief is too near for comfort; I want space. On good days, we lug our exhaustion and boredom together, and on not-so-good ones, we fling it at one another until we bleed red. I can’t tell what today is.
I don’t say her particular desperation-for money, company, thinness-is starting to bore me; I want new despairs
A dank one-night stand once told me that the best way to ensure you don’t have to answer questions is to ask them. I’ve held onto those words throughout my walk through swanky social clubs and private universities, tucked them into my clutch alongside matte lipsticks at black-tie galas and posh cocktail receptions, and each time I nervously fumble through my bag, I remember them and wish I had slept with him one more time. (más…)