Daddy was talking to me again. I had no choice but to wait now anyway.
I went upstairs to change my blood stained khakis. Perhaps I would offer her some food or drink, converse with her, let her know my plans. Maybe daddy would go away. I couldn't even think when he was talking to me, much less do what I'd planned next.
“Junior, I've told you a thousand times, you've got to be patient with them. Don't leave her for too long or she won't be in any kind of mood when you get back to her. Then it could get ugly”.
I know what he thought. That's all he had ever thought about. It disgusted me. Why wouldn't he just go away.
He was always listening inside my head. I was afraid to think of anything, knowing he was right there with me. Waiting for me to screw up. If momma only knew what he was doing to me now.
I was scared. I screamed for her. But she never came.
And he was laughing at me. “I always knew you were such a momma's boy”.
“Shut up!!!” I shook my fists in the air.
There was silence again.
I took a shower and changed clothes. Blue oxford cloth button down and another pair of khakis. Barefooted, I slipped on my docksiders.
Looking in the mirror, I decided I needed a shave; if I could keep the razor steady.
My hands shook, but my head was quiet. I took a deep breath, and finally it seemed I was alone.
I managed to shave without incident.
The girl in the basement. My date.
I bet she thought I was afraid to face her. She was right.
I couldn't go back to her yet. I wasn't ready. Not with daddy hanging around watching my every move. I needed to think. Get a plan of action.
I sat on the twin bed and looked around my boyhood room. Rock n'roll posters of KISS and Twisted Sister still covering the walls. Daddy always hated it. The devil's disciples, that's what they were, and I worshiped them. What did that make me?
Momma had just smiled at me. She was beautiful. “It's okay Junior, your daddy just doesn't like anything he doesn't understand, I guess they could be a little scary, huh?” She pointed at Gene Simmons. Then she laughed that sweet laugh she had.
I shook my head and wrenched myself from the memory. I could smell her.
If she were still here, none of this would be happening. She would make daddy leave me alone.
I crossed the room and opened the dresser drawer to remove a pink tube of lipstick. Pure Rose.
It had been momma's. I'd saved all of her things.
I looked in the mirror and carefully applied the color to my lips. The taste flooded my brain with images of momma; kissing me goodnight, kissing me good-bye, leaving lip prints on glasses and on daddy's cheek each morning as he left for work.
There had been no response from daddy. I was thankful. He would've just called me a queer. I smiled at myself and licked the waxiness of my lips.
I took a deep breath and headed back downstairs.
The stairs creaked as I took my first step down into the basement. I knew she could hear me coming. I wondered if she knew what lie in store for her.
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