Brizzles Basket

I’m in front of the TV helping my sister Marsha punch out paper doll clothes when I hear my Mom scream, “Oh my fucking God!” I look up.

Holding Margie, her youngest child just three years old, against her chest, Mom runs full-throttle down the hall, through the living room and out our front door. My oldest brother Howard jumps up, bangs out behind her, and a second later I shoot out behind him — already Mom’s at the end of our building. Clearly something bad is wrong. (more…)

When I was 8 years old, my mom caught me playing with her makeup and jewelry. Arms loaded with boy’s white socks and underwear, Mom kicked open the door to my room. “Honey, I need to put . . . ”

She was stunned to see me in eye shadow and lipstick and wearing several of her beautiful necklaces. I’d also clipped on some blue and green earrings that looked like sparkling dragonflies.

In an instant, Mom’s face went angry and hateful. She dropped the clean and folded laundry and before I knew what was happening, pounced on me.

“GODDAMN YOU!” she screamed. She hit me hard on the side of my head an earring skipped across the polished wood floor. “You little fuckin’…” (more…)

My sister-in-law, Sharon, her friend, Kim, and I are having a “Fantasy Party.” I’m not supposed to be a part of it because I’m male, but the Fantasy Party rep girl has bent the rules. I’ve been smuggled into all-girl wedding and baby showers and the like before, so it’s not all that unusual that I’d do this.

My mom has been tricked into going. Sharon and I have led her to believe it’s a Tupperware party.

Sharon and I park in front of her apartment. Mom is at the door and ready to go.

She gives Marsha some last minute instructions. I unlock the back door and Mom climbs into the car.

“Mark is throwing a goddamn fit,” she says.

Mark is my brother. He is mentally retarded and doesn’t like to let Mom out of his sight.

I back up and point the car in the direction of Kim’s house, where the party is going to be.

“Don’t worry about Mark,” I tell Mom. “He’ll be fine for a few hours without you.”

“Is Bonnie coming?” Mom asks.

“Yes. I talked to her a couple of hours ago. She’ll be there.”

“Good,” Mom says.

I’m happy, too. I always have fun with Bonnie.

Mom sits back. “I’m kind of glad to be going to this,” she says. “That stuff you buy in the store — it ain’t nothing like Tupperware. Sharon, do you remember the tumblers that you used to could get? They were like eight different colors and they came with a caddy thing. I hope they still have those. I’ll get me a set. And I used to have this really nice container you could store your cold cuts in after you opened them. I hope they have those too.”

Sharon and I look at each other. (more…)