"How to Get Under My Mother's Skin"

 Mom jumps up and scurries to the portable in the kitchen. The robot is back. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you young lady,” she says and answers the phone. “Oh hello Seth, how are you?” mom asks in a voice that is all sugar. “Yes, she is. Oh of course, how nice. Okay, we’ll see you then.”


Mom turns on the microwave and soon there is the sound of popping. “I think you might want to get out of those pajamas,” mom says and lifts her dark eyebrows several times.


“Why?” I am ready to upend the cardboard box of old photos all over this woman’s head.


“Seth is coming over. He says he has something for you,” she sings and there are those eyebrows rising up and down again.


“I can’t believe you didn’t even ask me first. Did you ever think that maybe I didn’t want to see Mr. Pretty Boy?” I walk past her to the bedroom.


The truth is that my stomach is churning like crazy at the idea of Seth McGee coming over. He wants to see me. I don’t want to mess this up like I did before by his bedroom door. I am so lonely it hurts. Only I need to play it cool. Desperation is like an awful smell that makes kids run in the other direction. And since I don’t have attractive looks and a cute, feminine physique to fall back on, I better get nonchalance right. Gay or straight, people like looking at pleasant things. I’m a little hard on the eyes.


“Ooh, I think Amelia Bedilia might have a crush on someone,” mom says and takes the popcorn out of the microwave. “Should I make hot cocoa for you kids, too?”


My only goal at this moment is to hurt this woman who pours popcorn into a bowl with composed happiness, who decides when my father’s life should end and when to invite a handsome boy—who makes me uncomfortable—to our apartment.


“I left the purse on the floor of the car today,” I say.


Mom’s mouth opens and her eyes search the room for understanding, for control. “I see. Well, I don’t want you to feel bad about it sweetheart. It was an accident. I know you didn’t leave it there on purpose. You just have to be more aware next time. You can’t trust anyone, you know?” She turns her back to me for the whipped cream.


“It wasn’t an accident. I left it there on purpose. I didn’t want to carry that thing around with me. It’s pretty ugly and it doesn’t stop me from looking like, a lesbian.” I know that I am sealing my own coffin. Good. “Anyway, I am sorry about what happened to your car.” This last part is the only drop of goodness I will give this woman who only now turns to face me again. “Well, I guess I better get out of these old pajamas and whip up something feminine to wear now,” I add and head for my room.


“Amelia!” mom yells and there is a ripple of pleasure in me. Finally, I have gotten under her plastic skin. I turn to face her. She is shaking and dying to slap me. On some sick level, I wish she would. Then the mother I ache for might return.


“We will deal with this later,” she says and breathes in deeply before evenly putting down two heaping mugs of whipped cream and cocoa.


“Yeah, it would be nice to deal with something in this family,” I say and slam the door hard enough for the walls to shake, for those damn hook rugs to fall down.