Ok. I just joined Tribe and I thought I would put up a little sample of why i joined. My book will hopefully be coming out late this year.

To tide you over, below is a chapter that I hope stays in all of it's entirity for the release. Enjoy!



Sixteen

My mother won't stop calling. I have not seen her since we kicked Brian out and she has left me at least twenty messages in the past month. I don't know why I avoid her, I just find more important things to do with my time. She actually catches me on the phone this morning after my run and is thrilled to hear my voice.

"My baby boy!," she squeals and the sound of her voice is like a nail on a chalkboard.

"Hello Mother," is all I can muster, sweaty from the 107 degree weather outside.

"Have you been avoiding me?," She asks and I can just picture her bottom lip sticking out, as if I were seven again.

"Of course not, I have been really busy," which is an excuse I wish was true.

"Well, I haven't seen you in so long, I thought maybe we could go out to dinner tonight after I finish work at the hospital."

"Sounds good. I don't have any plans. What time?."

"Meet me at Black Angus at 7:00," she says cheerfully. She knows perfectly well that I do not eat red meat but hell, it's free food.

I spend the rest of the day dreading dinner. I can't remember when our relationship started to become such a challenge for me or why I can't stand her. I loved her growing up. I genuinely did. She was my mother, my father, my confidant , chauffer and friend. In many cases, I was her best friend. She confided in me, often times in ways she probably shouldn't have. Now that I am no longer forced to see her on a daily basis, I find the reprieve an extreme relief.

I sit around doing nothing really, drinking coffee, watching MTV, smoking and trying some yoga. Another lazy summer day. I value these days but not as much as I should. I know that my future summers will not hold these wasteful days but maybe the fact that I am not thinking about the future is the entire appeal.

I leave the apartment around 6:30 so I have enough time to get gas. I have seven dollars cash and I am not sure whether or not I should buy a pack of cigarettes. A gallon of gas is $1.98 and Chesterfield's are on sale for $2.95. Two gallons of gas will last me a day or two. The cashier looks at me funny when I ask for so little in gas but I keep a straight face, wanting to laugh at how stupid I look.

I smoke all five of the cigarette's from my old pack on my way over to Black Angus. My Jeep roars down the freeway and my smoke is carried out the open window. The evening air is warm and refreshing. I am not at all looking forward to dinner. What will definitely start out civil and placid will inevitably become a shit storm, as they always do. I will do something or say something and it will push her over the edge. The edge is a place my mother has taken up permanent residence and base jumping is now a hobby.

I arrive at exactly 7:00 and the sun will be setting in about an hour. The sky is a dark red and orange and the restaurant's outdoor lights have already come on. My mother's MR-2 is in the parking lot and I am not surprised to see that she is not waiting for me in the foyer. As I walk up to the door and then the front desk, I am going over things I will and will not bring up during dinner. Susan, no. The Apartment, yes. School, no. Morgan, I don't know. The clinic, definitely a no. What Jenny told me? My options are running short and I hope my mother is the one with all the up to date news.

A cute brunette about three years younger then me happily shows me to my mothers table. My mom spies me from across the dining room and stands up quickly to greet me with a boney hug. Her elbows seems sharper than usually and her arms get thinner every time I see her. Her graying red hair is up in an out of date scrunchy and she is wearing her favorite horse print scrub top.

"My baby boy! I am so glad you found time in your busy schedule to see your mother!," she says loudly, smiling at the young girl. "Isn't he handsome?." The girl just blushes awkwardly and walks away. I pry my mother off and we sit down.

"You look nice," I lie. Her hair is longer than she usually wears it and her bangs are combed back, sitting untidily on top of her hair.

"You think so? I desperately need a hair cut but Brian likes it long," she says, holding a long piece in her hand. Every thing must be fine again on the home front but I'm not ready to bring it up. She is already half way through a long island ice tea and a cup of coffee is sitting in front of me getting cold. " I ordered you a cup, I know how much of it you drink."

I put five packs of sugar into the lukewarm liquid and quickly drink it all.

"So, how have you been?," she asks, smiling at me widely and holding my hand, squeezing it.

"Good. I have been busy at the restaurant."

"That's nice. How is Tawny doing?."

"She's good. She hasn't been able to do too much. Her Mom is being worse now that she is out of school."

" That's too bad. I really wonder why her mother is so strict with her."

"What do you mean?," I ask while our waitress fills my coffee cup.

"Well, she has to have a reason for being so controlling. Did Tawny ever do some thing to break her trust? Has she ever told you anything?," she says bluntly. It irritates me the way she assumes that it is automatically something Tawny did, that it must be her fault. I want to snap at her but our waitress is standing there, staring at us and waiting for us to order.

"Oh, sorry. I have this coupon for the two New York steaks and the appetizer platter," my mom says while digging through her gigantic purse. Coupon clipping is one of her favorite past times. "Doesn't that sound nice?," she asks me as she pulls out the coupon and hands it to the waitress.

"Can I also get a large dinner salad, with vinaigrette dressing?," I tell her after ordering my steak well done. My mother has hers rare, which is always surprising considering she is a bleeding heart animal lover. I choose not to argue and I will most likely not finish my steak.

"You are so handsome," she continues to remind me, smiling widely. " Just like your father." She stares off into the distance, as if something is beckoning to her on the horizon. I hate her when she talks about the man I never knew and I dread the fact that I may never know whether or not it is true.

We sit quietly for a while, avoiding eye contact. I fidget with my coffee cup and she plays with her hair.

"Thank you again for my birthday party," she says out of the blue as our appetizer platter and salads arrive. "You grandmother was a little disappointed in you though. She would have appreciated an invitation."

"Even if I sent her one, she wouldn't have come."

"I know. It is such a pain getting her to leave the house but the thought is what counts."

The thought is what always counts and that's the kind of bullshit philosophy I have come to expect from my mother. No real wisdom, just loose rules to live by. Don't talk with your mouth full; Cover your mouth when you yawn; Don't do that or you'll go blind or even worse, it might stop working properly. My grandmother just wants reassurance that she hasn't been put out to graze. Mom quickly finishes her cocktail and is already starting on another.

"So, are you seeing any one new?," my mother asks as she starts into her salad. I hate the way she lets the dressing sit on her lip, white and creamy. I want to lean over and wipe it for her because she won't notice it until she is finished.

"Yes actually," I decide to confess. "I met a woman at the bar."

"That's nice. What does she look like?."

"She has shoulder length red hair and she's tall, slender."

"Sounds lovely," my mother says proudly, always playing favorite for fellow redheads. Brian always liked to joke 'Red in the head, Good in bed," and would chuckle loudly at himself. I can see why he is so appealing. "What does she do? Is she in school?."

"No actually. She is the secretary at an elementary."

"Oh," my mother finally looks up at me, raising her eyebrows. "How old is this woman?."

"She's fifty-two," I answer a matter of factly, jamming a large bite of salad into my mouth.

My mother slowly sets down her fork and downs the remaining two thirds of her long island. She flags down a waiter.

"Could I get a Jack and Coke please?," she asks with a smile. I can tell she will soon be strapping on her goggles and jumpsuit.

"Well, I'm happy for you!," she finally addresses me, the alcohol gleaming her eyes over. "There was a nurse I wanted to introduce you to."

"Really?," I ask, not at all interested. I can just imagine her talking me up to people that don't give a shit, showing off my high school graduation pictures.

"Yes! She seems like a girl you would like. She's single, of course, with long black hair and a couple of tattoos!," my mother assumes out loud. What, just because I have a tattoo I am automatically going to be interested in this chick? "But it's ok if you aren't interested, I can just tell her you are already seeing some one." She pouts, sticking her bottom lip out and slowly eating her salad.

"I'll come meet her if you want. Just give me a call and I'll come see you at work," I lie with a smile, finishing my salad. The server doesn't waste any time picking up my plate and I order more coffee.

"So, how are things with Bryan?," I ask, picking at what's left of the appetizers. I have to get to the subject eventually and from the way her head is starting to sway back and forth, I know it will come out easily.

"Things are going well for once. After that one night, when you came and rescued me, he moved all of his things out the very next morning," she says after finishing her salad. She reaches across the table to hold my hands but I am suddenly over taken by the urge to drink coffee and then sit their, holding my cup. She gets the point and places her hands in her lap. Our server comes back with the entrees and her Jack and Coke.

"Anyway, he and Jessica are living at his brothers house. We started seeing each other after a couple of weeks off but I told him under no circumstances can he move back in with me!," my mother continues while she tears into her slab of bleeding meat. The site of the blood mixing with her mash potatoes makes me want to throw up and I eat my vegetables in silence.

"Don't you think that is kind of stupid? You know, since what happened?," I ask, a little dumb founded. Honestly, she was desperate to get rid of him! I simply don't see the logic.

"No, I don't think it's stupid, and don't talk to me like that!," she spatters, pointing her fork at me. "I am an adult and I am not stupid. I love Brian! We just needed some time apart."

"Whatever. I just can't understand why you have such a taste for assholes. Think about it, every man you have ever dated was bad for you!."

"And that's my fault?! I can't help it if they seem to find me. But Brian is different, he loves me! I have forgiven him, just like Christ instructs us to!"

"Jesus Christ, quit it with that! Then forgive him and forget him! You are smarter than this! There are so many men out there that will treat you better and that don't have… baggage!."

She is silent. She sets her fork and knife down and slowly finishes the bite of meat she has in her mouth. The cliff is looming and when our waitress returns to check on us, she orders another drink.

"I think you've had enough," I interject, worried. She only weighs ninety pounds and will soon be in a coma from alcohol poisoning.

"Don't tell me what to do! I am your fucking mother!," she quickly yells, her eyes flaming rage in my direction. She goes silent and stares at her plate when her drink arrives.

I want to apologize. I know I am right and know that some one should try and talk logic to her but I can't shake my sudden feeling of guilt. This always happens and I know it is because she has instilled this control in me that makes me feel like a dancing fucking monkey.

"I'm sorry. I just want the best for you and I don't think Brian is worthy of you."

"Why do you insist on these little stabs? Do you get pleasure out of hurting me!."

"Yes," I answer in a monotone voice. " I keep a little journal for every time I hurt people. Cut some one off today, check. Piss off mom and make her feel like shit, check."

"You're not funny."

We finish our dinners in silence. My mother has already finished her last drink and is enjoying her free fall. I just hope she remembered the parachute or else I will be the one mopping up the mess. The check comes and I do not put up a fight when she reaches for it. I didn't want to eat here anyway, even though I finished the entire steak. We slowly walk outside and my mother stumbles every few steps, trying hard to regain composure.

"I'm going to drive you home," I finally say outside, away from any possible listeners.

"I can drive myself," she says, quickly stumbling towards her car.

"No, I'm driving," I say as I chase after her and reach for her keys.

"I don't need your fucking help. No! Leave me alone!," she screams, turning on me. She lifts a hand to slap me and as it quickly approaches my face, I snatch her wrist in my hand. Her bones feel like balsa wood and if I wanted to, I could snap them.

"Listen good. I am driving you home and there is no fucking arguing! And if you try slapping me again, I will drop kick you and leave you here to be raped and robbed!," I scold while pulling her in close. The animals blood is coursing through my veins and I hold back the urge to break her wrist. I pull her keys from her hand and unlock the passenger side door of her little MR2. I push her inside and slam it closed behind her.

I sit in the drivers seat with my knees straddling the steering wheel and quickly put it into gear. My mother is breathing hard next to me and I know she is about to explode.

"You hurt my wrists!," she whines while rubbing them.

"You embarrassed me!," I respond with out looking at her.

"I don't care. I wasn't embarrassed."

"What if we saw some one we knew? What would they think of your behavior?!"

" I don't care," is all she says and then falls silent.

I hope Brian isn't at her house. The last thing I want is for her to sick him on me. I could drop kick his ass too, I reassure myself. This ride will be short but not short enough. My mother is completely silent, her breathing easier now. I glance over twice and she has her arms folded in front of her, staring straight forward.

A few miles from her house, every thing changes. I can see my mother lunge forward twice out of the corner of my eye and then fold completely forward. With her face between her knees, she starts to throw up. It isn't the slow, silent type either. She retches loudly, practically yelling as if she's being fucked hard in the ass. The smell is awful and I quickly roll down the windows. I pull over to the side of the road and she throws up the remainder of her dinner out the door.

After finishing, she sits back, throw up on her chin and in her hair. She mumbles loudly, incoherently.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want to embarrass you. I'm so sorry. I am so lonely," she says, swaying her head back and forth.

When we arrive at her house, I help her out of the car. Brian's truck is not here and some relief actually waves over me. One less problem to deal with.

"I'm so sorry. I would leave him but then who would I have? I have nobody!," she starts to cry as I decide to carry her. I lift her in my arms and then across the threshold. Her house is completely dark and quiet, but I have no need for the lights. I know this house. I know it better than most. I know it better than Brian's fucking daughter does.

I turn on the lights in her room and go to set her down in her bed. She lunges forward and I quickly take her to the bathroom. I help her down and she kneels in front of the toilet, hacking and vomiting. I kneel behind her, holding her hair back and lifting her body up. I feel for her and try to hold my tears back. The tears come anyway. She makes me sick. Her weakness makes me sick and all I want to do it stick her face in the now orange water.

We sit here for an eternity and when I feel her body go limp, I lift her back up. I help her walk to the bed and lay down. I pull off her old cowboy boots and tuck the comforter around her.

"Richard. I miss you Richard," she whimpers as I kiss her on the forehead. My father, Richard. She only talks about him when she's drunk. It must be too painful to do with a clear head. "Come back Richard, I miss you." I want to lay next to her the way I did when I was little, let her snuggle up with me and talk about him. With a glass of wine in one hand, holding me in the other, telling me about my father.

Is it possible to miss some one you can't even remember? Is it possible for my loss to outweigh hers? Fuck her for missing him and not thinking of me. Fuck him, where ever he is. I need a fucking cigarette. I quickly leave, slamming the doors behind me, stepping out into the night air. I leave the windows rolled down in her car and begin my walk back to the restaurant.