Dinner For One
The room begins to grow darker and darker as each minute passes. The pillow sinks into my chest and becomes one with me as my eyelids descend.
Everything is just perfect right now.
The door slams down stairs. I open my eyes and sit back up to look at my alarm clock.
Three hours?
How could I have slept for three hours?!
Voices fill the living room and there's a bit of commotion down there. I get up from the bed and open the door to look at the disaster outside. I poke my head out and look down; there are heads bobbing up and down between the railings as they engage in a conversation.
"Max, honey, come down to eat! We brought some food!"
It's Mom, and she's with him.
Oh gee, I wonder what's for dinner this time.
Probably some fried chicken, or some steaks. Something he knows I won't eat.
He's a total douche with food.
I walk down the stairs and the familiar scent of bread and cheese hits my nose.
Henry looks at me while I descend into hell via the rickety stairs. He has on a stupid little yellow helmet that can't even protect his thick skull. His orange vest barely buttons over his stomach; it looks like the button is about to pop off and hit me in the eye. His dirty brown work boots have tracked dirt into the house and look like they themselves are sweating.
"Stop staring at me. You're making me feel violated."
I'm pretty sure no one would ever touch you willingly.
"Hey sweetie, how are you today? Good? We brought you some food. Come sit at the table, okay?"
Mom looks at me with pleading eyes, just begging me to be with her. Mom is a mess; her purple cotton shirt is disheveled, her skin is pale and fragile, and her eyes have dark bags under them.
Mom brushes her frizzed hair behind her ear as we walk to the kitchen table.
No one ever uses the kitchen table, it's just a sad excuse for one because it's just a small plastic one that looks like it was ordered off a kids' play set catalog.
Henry said it would save us money, but it only saved him money to buy more beer and magazines.
We sit around the pitiful table waiting for the food that was promised. Henry turns around and grabs a box that was behind him all along.
The guy is the size of a fridge, how can he turn around so easily?
The world will never know, shall it?
He places the white box on the table; the obese Italian man with sad eyes and a pizza half way down his throat is the logo for the restaurant the box came from.
Under the man are the words "Renzo's Pizzeria" and under that is "The Cheapest And Tastiest Pizza From The Old Country, We Promise".
Pizza again, how wonderful.
This is great, simply great.
It's not like all this family ever eats is pizza.
No, we eat lots of things.
We eat truffles, spaghetti, gold encrusted chocolate, etcetera.
YOU ARE READING
Life's a Gem
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