Chapter 3
When I woke up the next morning, Riff was gone and my mom was humming as she cooked in the kitchen. I figured it was a Saturday then because that was the only day she cooked. She must have heard me getting up, because without turning around she said, "Yam-chan, take that cover to your room then come have some breakfast."
I had always hated the name "Yam-chan, but mom would always say it was cuter than yam-kun or yammie-kun. I knew though that she called me that because she had always wanted a girl. On the other hand, I was happy that she'd called me by my nick-name. Ever since we had moved there, she hadn't said more than was necessary to me each day.
After I had done as she asked, I went to eat breakfast, "It's good." I said
"Thanks." she replied with a smile, "I've eaten already so you can have as much as you want." She then stood and walked towards the front door.
"Where are you going?" I asked
"Work." she said, "its Friday remember?" at that she walked out the door.
I sat there eating breakfast alone and wondering about the cause of my moms mood change. After a while I decided it was Riff.
Over the following weeks I found that Riff was only one in a growing addiction of one-night stands. And then these stands branched off into other things gradually. She began bringing people home all the time, staying out late, getting drunk.
I remember the first time she hit me. I had been in the house playing a video game when she walked in drunk. In a fit of fury she threw her purse somewhere; it hit a vase causing it to crash on the floor. The roses that were in it flew out along with stuff from her purse. My mom uttered some curse in her slurred speech and went towards it. She picked up a piece of the vase and cut herself on it; another curse.
�Mom?� I asked, pausing the game and walking to her. She looked up at me shocked, as if noticing me for the first time. That look instantly changed to anger. �You!� she yelled at me, �You bastard, Neil!� I looked on scared and confused. Neil was my dad�s name.
�Why the hell did you do this too me!� she yelled. Her eyes were teary, and she took one drunken step towards me. �Why!!!� she screamed again and whispered, �I loved you�� One step, two steps, stumble.
�Mom!� I exclaimed, just as scared for her as I was for myself. I hurried to her side and grabbed her arm to help right her.
�Don�t you fucking touch me!!� she yelled again and slapped me hard with the hand she had cut. I could feel her blood moist on my cheek. Shocked, I let her go. She stumbled instantly to the floor and pushed herself back to a wall. Tears were falling freely down her face now.
Through all of that, I just stood and looked at her. I didn�t cry at all. It was as if the tears were frozen in their ducts. My mother had hit me for no reason and then started to cry. Her, crying when I got hit! I didn�t know what to do or think. I was scared to go near her for fear that she�d hurt me more. Finally I turned and went to go clean up the vase that had been knocked over. As I was picking up the glass pieces I noticed a piece of paper among the stuff that had fallen from my mom�s purse.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw my mom still sitting there. Her crying had turned to little whimpers. I turned my attention back to the paper and picked it up. It was crumbled and one of the corners was black as if it had been set on fire. After observing those things I began to read the actual letter: �
Limlee, [that was my mother�s name]
I�ve taken Gyoza as a warning. You�ve been asking too much about the army. When Red Ribbon wants you to know something, you�ll know it. I wish you could have realized that earlier. It hurts me so much to have to turn our daughter over to them. Oh, but wait, she�s not our daughter. If the blonde hair isn�t a dead give-away then my condition is. You know, that double x sperm mutation bit.
Ok, so I lied. I could care less about your inquisitions towards the army, but you cheated on me. We had a deal! I take care of you, in return for you being mine, and mine alone. You remember don�t you? Of course you do. Don�t bother to call the police.
P.s. The package is Yamcha�s. I don�t want him to feel like he�s the cause this.
Suddenly it all began to register. Everything coming together like part of a jigsaw puzzle. Pieces were still missing though. I wanted to do so much then. What was this army? Was Gyoza ok? My dad? My dad???
I shoved the note back into my mom�s purse along with its other scattered items I then busied myself with cleaning up the vase. The truth was that as much that I wanted to know, I also didn�t want to know anything more.
As, I said, that was only the first time she hit me. It didn�t happen everyday, but occurred often enough that I began to grow wary of her. Despite all that, I didn�t hate her then, knowing what I knew. Then something happened that even now, I still haven�t forgiven her for.
It was my seventh birthday and my mom still hadn't come back from work, or whatever she was doing. I had thrown myself a little party and invited some of the neighborhood kids to come, but nobody showed. How could a responsible parent send their child to the house of the village-ho?
For the rest of the day I watched television and slept. Now, at nine-o'clock or so I was bored out of my mind. I walked around and started to observe things more. The black spots on the wall, interesting! The crusty stuff on the toothpaste; what could be better?" The loose board on the floor; that's really something. Wait, loose board? I fell to the floor and worked my fingers around the board, and tugged a little. It moved up easily. I looked under it and there looking back at me was the package that had been in Gyoza's crib.
I yanked it out and observed it. It looked as if it had never been opened. I turned it over a couple of times and began to open it then stopped. Someone was fumbling with the door and I knew it was my mother. I shoved the package under the floorboard and ran to the couch. The television was already on so I acted like I was watching it.
My mom stumbled in and I could smell alcohol on her. Maybe that should have warned me more, but I had gotten used to it.
"Yam-chan." she said. Her voice was slightly slurred
"Hi." I said and cut off the TV.
"Come here.� She commanded
I did as she asked and stood in front of her, but a good arms distance away. She smiled at me, moved forward and extended her hand. I flinched, but she only stroked my hair, "My date didn't show up today."
"Oh...um that's too bad." I replied
"Hey isn't today your birthday?" she said
"I'm seven." I said with a smile, surprised that she had even remembered.
"You know seven is pretty big, you deserve a special present." she sailed and smiled back at me. I got a whole whiff of beer-breath, but it didn't stop my joy
"What kind of present?" I asked
"This kind." she said and bent down to kiss me.
"Ew mom, that's gross." I said and giggled
"I always thought that boys liked gross stuff." she said and kissed me again on the cheek
"Yeah but," kiss "stop it." I said and giggled again. She laughed back and kissed me again and again. Face, neck, lips, pause, repeat, repeat, repeat.
"Stop mom!" I said more serious this time and put a hand up to push her away. She just grabbed it and put it down.
"You know you look so much like your father." she said and pushed me down to the floor, straddling me.
"Mom, get off!" I was pushing her; she was stripping me, touching me. "Mom!"
"Sh..." she'd say push my hands away and continue what she was doing. Pleas didn't work, scratching annoyed her, and tears were invisible.
It was my seventh birthday.