“How many times do I have to tell you to put on your seat belt?” Mamma bellowed from the front seat of the car. “I swear, if your Daddy slammed on the brakes you would fly right out the front of the windshield, be sliced to pieces and splattered all over the road. Is that what you want?”
Maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t.
I was all of thirteen years old and thought myself grown enough to be a little “spirited” to my Mamma. I can remember the slaps I had received for the sass I had dished out to her, but I thought she had it coming. She had really messed with my life by up and marrying my newest stepdad, Burt.
Now Burt was no prize, except that he worked at the car garage where my Mamma took the car when it needed to have some work, which was most of the time. Maybe that’s what she had in mind when she started batting her lashes at him after he told her the transmission was about to go out. Maybe it had worked because he asked her out, had a date and we got the car fixed for half price.
My Mamma, she was a “corker” as I had heard my Granny say.
I never knew just what a “corker” was, but I guess my Mamma was one. She seemed to work most every situation in our favor. Growing up and having an assorted stable of stepdads really did not phase me, it was just how it was. I never really remembered my real Dad but I guess I had one ‘cause at thirteen, I know the ways of the world. Just because we may come across as poor, I would like to think I have an above average IQ since I read. I read anything I can get my hands on. Mainly to escape my Mamma’s shenanigans.
So here we were, going on a little field trip my Mamma had planned as soon as the weather had started turning a little warm and the snow had melted off the ground. Winters were always rough for us, not having much and all, but Mamma always made sure we had a roof over our head and there was no shortage of something to eat. As I am riding down the road in the back seat, this thought of food causes my stomach to grumble. I wish we had packed something to snack on before we had left.
I really had no idea how long of a trip this was to be. I usually just did as I was told, minded my business and stayed out of Mamma’s way. But now that I am thirteen, she has started letting me help her with things around the house. We had started talking about how life was, and how we were not promised tomorrow so we had better do the best we could and learn to survive.
I just did not know what all surviving included.
We had been into the trip for about two hours and my Stepdad was getting ill at my Mamma and kept looking back at me in the rear view mirror. I sat still and quiet as to not be the cause of his irritation. The longer we forged ahead the more the suburb became the sticks. I had noticed there was nothing around us but just open fields and stillness in the air.
I reached in my backpack that was sitting in the floorboard of the car and pulled out the cast iron Lodge skillet my Mamma told me to bring. My Stepdad looked up and saw me take a swing at his head in the rear view mirror. I guess it was the last thing he saw since he slumped over and my Mamma gently pulled up the emergency brake in the middle of the console.
The car slowed to a stop and Mamma got out and and smiled at me. “Did I do good Mamma? I hit him as hard as I could like you taught me.”
“You did good Baby. Now help Mamma get him in the trunk. We need to get him home and into the freezer before he spoils.” We wrapped him in the tarp we always kept in the trunk so we would not have a lot of cleaning to do. After he was secured, we started for home. The shadows of the cloudy afternoon made the trip seem just a little more gruesome as I was beaming with pride. But all the way home I could not help but wonder what was he thinking as I hit him in the head. Our eyes had connected and maybe I was the last thought in his mind as he was now facing eternity.
The cellar door begged for some oil as we opened it to make our deposit in the basement. Dragging our prize down the stairs, I could hear his head connect with each of the wooden steps. Mamma heaved him over into the empty freezer and shut the lid as I breathed a sigh of relief. She turned and I caught her as she gave me a wink and a little smile. Yep, I was feeling mighty grown for a thirteen year old.
Upstairs, we sat at the table and sipped on coffee as we made our plans. One thing about being grown, I could have coffee. I sipped on the bitter brew but it felt like a medal of achievement, that I was now becoming more of an equal to Mamma, not just merely the child.
“So, young man, your first kill and now you are contributing to the family. How does it make you feel?”
“Well, it makes me hungry after all of that work…when’s dinner?”
Mamma just chuckled as she got up and grabbed her sharpest butcher knife. She headed towards the basement and turned with a grin. “How about some chicken fingers…I think we have some fresh ones in the freezer…”
A View From Bogaville 