Tangled Arms and Nylon
The last time I saw my parents I was six years old. We were on our way to the beach. We lived in the city and my dad put in to have the day off four months prior. There was still snow on the ground when he came home and told my mom. I could hear them from my bedroom, they thought I was asleep, but I always waited till he came home to really fall asleep. I knew that he would come in and kiss my forehead. I knew he would watch me tussle and roll over to my side. I knew he knew I was faking it, but he did it all just the same. He would whisper in my ear, “Sleep as if the world lay in slumber beside you.”
I had to pee, again. It took ten minutes of protest and the repetitive kicks to the back of his seat, but eventually I won and we pulled over at the next gas station. Dad went inside. Figured we might as well get gas while we are here. He was actually taking a walk to cool down. The whole foot to spine thing really got him riled up. I could see why now. Mom followed behind, staying far enough back to give him space. She waited till the door closed behind him before she went in to ask for the bathroom key. I sat in the car, doors locked, windows cracked, a/c running. I remember drawing faces in the fog that spread across the window. In hindsight I’m sure they looked more like spaghetti thrown against a wall than a persons face but I liked it. Mom came out first, she opened the door and undid my seatbelt, her face was warm and I could see the swelling of tears in the corners of her eyes. Her and dad must have talked inside. There isn’t much a six year old can do to comfort the heart of his mother. Such an expensive gift must be more complex than a simple smile and my tiny arms wrapped around her shoulders. Yet this was all she really needed.
The button of my jacket snagged the seatbelt as she attempted to lift me out of the car, to have the moment that would make all the sadness go away. A full, long hug, mother and son. Tangled arms and nylon shake the keys free. With a humph she places me back down to find them.
That was all that it took.
I could smell the breath of a stranger. A foul odor from a man who never listened to his mother about brushing before bed. His hands were full of my t-shirt and skin. I screamed and kicked, my mom hit her head on the door trying to stand up in a hurry. It was too late. He already had me outside. I remember the smell of gasoline and Pantene pro V. I remember feeling the warm sun touch my skin. Through the tears and the infantile screams, thats what I remember the most. The warmth of the sun, and the feeling of my mothers hair against my face.
Breathless and exhausted, I faint under the pressure of my world crumbling on top of me.
I’d like to say I put up a better fight, that I bit and wriggled till they were forced to let me go. Part of me did, I saw that look in my mother’s eye, I knew this wasn’t right. That he was going to hurt me and take me away.
There are singular moments in life, fractions of memory capable of scarring over and remaining forever. The look my father gave me, as he stepped outside. The, right on time, look. That will never leave me.