Matchbox

X. Childhood Death Haunts

Ten. Childhood Death Haunts

              When Vera was little her head was always loud, and it wasn't her own doing. Too loud for someone who could barely raise a full glass of wine for her mother on Friday nights at the end of the couch. She wouldn't be on the couch, Diane Stonem would be. Vera would he on the carpet floor, knees turning red with the material as she leaned to pour glasses of red for her mother. If she spilled, her guts would be next at the taste of her mother's careless whip of a hand. She never spilled after the first time, and she was six.

   This was all before dad left. All before Blue went fully blue. When he made Vera go blue.

   When mother had it in her to fight, it would get loud. Ugly. Discourteous. Insolent. Blue would try to bring back the quiet, you're going to blow her ears! Hush down, Diane! She's a babe! That would bring more fire to aged woman, You shut up! This is my house, left for me! She'll be fine, she'll be grown! She'd slam her hands into the young man's chest, and he would fight back tears. Because Blue Stonem was softer than he should've been. He was still young.

   Vera would sit in front of the fridge when the yells woods bleed. On her knees, bruising red underneath frizzy little skirts and white socks with lace edges, as she would make words with the colorful letter magnets on the slick surface.

  I live my life how I want, Blue! Diane yells more.

   Vera cries silent.

   S - A - D

  Blue scoffs, you're going to kill yourself! You hear me! I won't watch it! Not anymore!

  D - A - D

   There wasn't enough letters to spell out daddy.

   M - A - D

  God, to think I use to love you! Diane spits out in her wine glory and Blue shrivels up like a broken boy. A lost puppy. He still is young. Too young to be married to such a woman. Too young to have a daughter.