Shopping Day (feedback welcome)
Tap
Tap
Tap
I place the grapefruit down, still unsure. It never works for me. My mother used to be able to tap a fruit twice and know if it was ripe or not. Just twice, using the back of her soft warm hands, and she could hear the ripeness, but I can never figure it out. They all sound the same to me. The hallow thud of my knuckles only tells me that what I am holding is not a figment of my imagination.
Y’see I never imagine sounds.
What if I imagined them too loud and they made me deaf? I think I read that in Newsweek or something. That sound waves can pierce your eardrums and make you bleep until you can’t hear anymore. Yes, I definitely read it because I remember thinking, “That’s so strange. How can sound hurt you if you can’t even see it?” So I don’t imagine sound.
I don’t know why Aunt Billie sent me grocery shopping again. I always screw it up. My cousins are great at it. Real pros. But I never seem to get the right stuff. I remember this one time I was supposed to get peanut butter and I got peanuts and butter. I couldn’t live that down for a week. James even told the kids at school and they called me “the retarded kid who can’t read.” When I asked Aunt Billie what “retarded” meant, she sent me to my room. Whenever I bring home the wrong stuff, she just looks at me with her green eyes, pursing her lips. I have green eyes too, but while hers are bright and shiny, mine are the color of moss. Sometimes I think that there must be moss growing in my eyes. She just shakes her head and says, “It’s all right. Why don’t you go wash up?”
It makes sense that invisible things can hurt you. When Tommy called Patricia a “slut”, she ran away crying. She wouldn’t have done that if she wasn’t hurt, right? The teacher said our words can hurt people, but I tried saying words quietly at the kids in class and they didn’t seem bothered at all. I thought I saw Billy twitch when I whispered “noodle” but he always kinda has a twitch. Maybe you have to say them really loud to hurt someone. Like with the sound waves.
A woman also looks at the fruit display also. I can’t see her face because her hair is covering it, but her tight dress reveals a few things. My eyes glance back and forth form the honeydews to her body and I start to think things I only think at night. Things like when James showed me his fathers collection of Playboys. Or that one time when Tracy asked me to help her up when she tripped. My cheeks flush crimson and I bury my face in the Granny Smith apples. I know the lady is looking at me now, but I am too embarrassed to face her. The apples don’t smell too bad. Kind of like window cleaner but with a hint of fresh flowers. Maybe I should get some of these for my room. I hope the lady doesn’t yell or scream at me. I wonder if it would hurt if she did.
I never saw the thing that hurt my mom. My aunt says it was a little piece of metal, but that doesn’t make sense. I took a box of bolts and threw them at my arm all day, and it barely hurt. It didn’t make me go to the hospital or anything. So it couldn’t be what hurt mom. But what does Billie know? She wasn’t even there. I was though. And I’m telling you, it was sound waves that killed my mom.
My feet were cold. I didn’t tell anyone about the hole in my Nikes because I didn’t want to be called foolish again. But when it rained my shoes filled up and water squished between my toes on every step. And it was raining that day. The car at least was warm. And it always smelled the same—leather, like my belt. The drive home was extra long that day, because of something my mother called “fucking rush hour.” As I watched the other cars around me, I wondered if any of their drivers had wet feet like mine. I looked up at a black S.U.V and saw a boy about my age in the backseat, also staring out at the other cars. But he looked way spacier then I did, I’m sure. He looked down and met my eyes. I looked away.
“Mom,” I asked, “when are we going to be home? I’m hungry.
“Soon, Sweetie,” my mother replied, “just a little traffic today.”
Her voice was soft and sweet. It was the same voice that read me stories before I fell asleep. The same voice that woke me in the morning before school. The same voice that told me to do my homework before I could watch T.V. The same voice that told me it would be OK after Dad died. I don’t think her voice could ever hurt someone, even if she screamed at the top of her lungs.
I knew we were almost home because the fire hydrants were bright yellow and they were only yellow around my house. I wondered if the firemen still knew they were hydrants if they weren’t red. I never saw a fire on my block so I never found out. The hydrants around my Aunt’s house are all red.
What kind of fruit did Aunt Billie want again? I don’t remember. Was she making a salad or something? Who puts fruit in a salad?
We were stopped at a sign, or maybe a light. Something red at least. Then suddenly my mom’s door flew open. I couldn’t see the man but I could see he was dripping in rain. Water was pouring over his hat and into the car. I didn’t even think it mattered if his shoes had a hole. His feet were definitely wet.
“Get out of the car,” he barked. He was pointing something at my mom. It was a black shiny tube. I know it was really important because my mom didn’t take her eyes off it.
“Please,” she said, “I’m with my child. Please let us go. I’ll give you money.” I was sure he would listen to her. How could he not listen to that voice?
“NOW!” he screamed at her, and she began to cry. So I began to cry. She turned to face me and that’s when it happened.
An enormous BANG erupted from the black tube straight at my mother’s head. I think I passed out then because the next thing I knew the man was gone and lights were flashing all around the car. Shrill sirens were screaming and I covered my ears to protect them
I thought it had all been a dream. But the chunk missing from my mother’s head told me it had all happened. I began to scream and I tried waking her. Big men in uniforms with shiny badges and black tubes strapped to their waists dragged me crying from the car, and I remember Aunt Billie coming to the hospital to pick me up. “I’m so sorry. You’ll be staying with us now,” she told me.
I always hated visiting Aunt Billie. Her house smelled like cats.
I hate cats.
So when Aunt Billie told me that a small metal piece killed my mom, I knew she was wrong. I was there. And it was definitely the force of those sound waves that did it. The tight but powerful pressure obviously ripped through the molecules of my mother’s face. The louder the sound, the stronger the pressure. And I have never heard anything that loud in my whole life. I’m sure that’s what did it.
I’ve been practicing screaming, when I think no one’s home. If I ever find the rain-soaked man, I’m going to scream so loud at him, his face will melt off. I’m going to show him what sound waves can really do.
Tap, Tap, Tap
I try holding the cantaloupe up to my ear, listening for an echo. I still don’t hear anything. This never works for me. I look around making sure no one saw how bad I am at this. Was cantaloupe even on the list? I put the melon in my basket and move on to the dairy section. At least I usually pick out fresh milk.
That’s something, right?
