Family Album

(trigger warning: rape scene stanza six)

Love is not a finite resource?

Desperate, she quickened her steps but could barely keep ahead of Monique and the crowd of kids from her school who were closing in on her. She wasn’t going to make it home. “Why isn’t anyone helping me?” she thought frantically. “This can’t look right. I didn’t do anything!” She tried to move quicker. Someone grabbed the back of her hair.

Love is not a finite resource?

He stared into the mirror. The large scar that painted his right cheek like an exploded plum had almost faded. A tightness in his chest, so long present he barely acknowledged it anymore, loosened by a hair. His older brother had given it to him several years ago when he sprayed him in the face with a keyboard cleaner of compressed air. His hand came up to touch it.

Love is not a finite resource?

It was 2 a.m. She tried to go back to sleep but the phone kept ringing repeatedly. She had turned the ringer off, but she could still hear it in her head. Still see the red-light blinking. By the sound of her voice her daughter was high again and she wanted money. She gave up on trying to sleep. She knew what was coming next. There was a pounding on the front door and then the bell started ringing.

Love is not a finite resource?

He tried to be a good son. But he had a family now, children. He had to set boundaries. He couldn’t let the craziness in his mom’s house touch his. There would have to be some distance.

Love is not a finite resource?

She turned up the volume on her headphones. Her mom, her grandma and her auntie were arguing again. She didn’t understand what it was about, but they all got very loud and very angry. Sometimes grandma ended up crying or mom left for days. Sometimes the police came. They were right outside her door now. She turned the volume up again.

Love is not a finite resource?

She had had a lot to drink at the party and was just coming out of the bathroom when someone grabbed her and shoved her onto a bed in a dark room. She could smell the liquor on their breath even though their hand on her mouth made it hard to breathe. It also stifled her screams. They began rifling under her skirt and she started to kick more violently. A hand came up and suddenly her head felt like it had exploded. When she regained consciousness, everything hurt, her thighs were slick, and they were gone.

Love is not a finite resource?

The baby awakened alone on the couch. When he didn’t see his mother, he started to cry. He was about two. Round cheeked and sad eyed. When his crying was spent, he began to crawl around. He found a bottle on the floor and began to suck. A moment later he spit it out and began to cry again. The milk had gone sour. A cockroach crawled over his pudgy hand.

Love is not a finite resource?

The bell rang for the end of class. She was hungry but she didn’t want to go home. So, she just started walking. In her mind she cataloged the feel of the pavement against her feet, the weight of her backpack, the way the light through the trees made her squint her eyes. She stopped in front of a small house. It seemed neat, untroubled, silent. She inhaled deeply and walked away.

Love is not a finite resource?