just focus

They painted my room pink because I’m a girl. I hate pink. Tinkerbell wallpaper to boot. Why don’t they just put doilies on my dresser and be done with it? I will not do this to my little girl if I ever have one.

My mom is on her computer again. I need help with my homework, and she “just a sec’s” me, and I know better than to believe it will only be a sec.

There’s my brother. He’s licking the remote control and someone should stop him.

“Mom?”

“Just a sec, hon.” And she types on.

I sigh and grab the remote from him. He screams, and mom snaps, “Laurie! Would you leave him aLONE?”

“ But I was just..”
“Oh, whatever, just put something on TV for your brother. Make sure it’s a cartoon or something. I need a minute here.”

I do it because what else can I do? Maybe later I’ll talk to her. I'm still smarting from those words Jessica said to me today. I want to tell mom about it, but now’s not the time.

“Honey do you think you can warm up some chicken nuggets for you kids for dinner tonight? Daddy’s not going to be home so it’s just us and I really need to focus on this thing…” she trails off, implying that her computer work is dreadfully important and also highly confidential.

Perhaps it is, but I’d really like some real food to eat tonight. At least Junior’s happy watching those ridiculous minions again. “Sure, mom,” I say, moving slowly so she’ll notice I’m none too pleased. She doesn’t notice. I hear keyboard clicks frantically.

Dinner served and we are done, and I’ve even carried dishes to the kitchen. Finally mom shuts her computer. “Time for a bath, junior,” she says, and she takes him. I sit on the couch with my book, not really reading it. My stomach hurts like I’ve eaten Jessica’s ugly words, and I don’t know how to make it stop.

I hear junior splashing, and mom putting stuff away in the bathroom. I hear her walk into her bedroom and shut the door.

I should finish my homework but I can’t get off the couch. I pick up a book. Suddenly, Mom comes into the room and sees me, really sees me. She’s changed into her soft PJs and robe, and she sits next to me on the couch. Whatever it was that caused her to type so frantically still troubles her eyes, but she is trying to put it aside while she plays mommy.

I slide next to her, falling into her soft robe. I accept her act, and I play baby though my feet are as big as hers. She put her leg over mine and sighs. I am not ready to talk to her, but maybe if we sit her for longer I will be. Suddenly her body jerks, “Wait, is your homework done young lady?”

“Almost mom, but…” We here Junion cry from the bathroom, “I weewy weed to go potty!”

I flop on my bed, and as I hear mom yelling about the mess in the bathroom, I try to concentrate on photosynthesis.

This month I'm participating in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). I am actual a Rebel because I am focusing on several short stories, but my goal is to write 50k in the month of November. This post is just me playing with fiction, warming up my fingers.  I'd love to hear your thoughts.