OCR Text |
Show Moon - 82 against sudden pirouettes, cartwheels on the grass. No more tree climbing. No more leaps across hedges and ditches. No more explosions of speed as if her heart could propel her to the moon. She was being made ready for the Bridegroom, for the man who would someday give her a home. Thus began my time of hating you, my mother. You were awkward and quiet when my friends came around. You hardly ever wore lipstick; you got perms that frizzed. You were too thin; your chest was almost as flat as mine, and your voice grated; your hands were cold. One morning when I was brushing my teeth, you pushed past me into the bathroom, cursing under your breath, your nightgown lifted to your knees. Bright crimson blood splashed between your feet, spattering the floor with dark round spots like dirty coins. You looked at me with stricken eyes and said, "There's something wrong with me." This filled me with dread, but I didn't know what to say or how to help, so I tried not to think about it. Forgive me. I didn't want your life. I wanted to be glad about my future. Caleb and Lee were boys now, no longer babies, and their father looked at them with a soft indulgent smile. His sons. How different it must be to be a son! They ran now with the mob of boys in the housing project brandishing sticks and yelling "Kill! Kill!" But Caleb's face was worried, as if he wasn't sure why he was doing this. I felt a great sadness for all the males of this world who had to practice for war. At home, Caleb would watch with his patient green eyes, waiting for a time when he could speak up and show himself. Lee, so strikingly handsome, had learned to love attention. Just as Caleb would finally lean forward, his mouth open with something he was ready to say, Lee would |