Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Childhood Living is Easy to Do

I guess what I forgot to say yesterday, was that this thing I'm posting today and yesterday was just the first part of a larger piece of crap. So, what I post today probably won't feel like an ending. I don't know if you've realized this about me, but I'm not very good at viewing things in a linear fashion. I've posted stuff months ago that detailed what happened when my dad finally disappeared. This is more like the prequel. Um, so, yeah.

Continued from yesterday:

We start doing this thing we do when we get bored at the track. Me and my brother wrap the bottom of our t-shirts around our arms to make a bag. We walk around the seats and pick up the stubs to the racing tickets and put them in the bags we made. When our bags get too full we take our arms out of our t-shirts and stretch the bottoms really tight. The stubs go flying into the air and we start again. Sometimes this is fun and sometimes it isn't, but we do it anyway. It's like the way I touch the cup of skin between my nose and lip. When I start, it helps me helps me feel better, then after a while my finger gets tired but it's hard to stop. That's what picking up the stubs is like and we keep at it until my Uncle Jack sees us.

"You guys are still here?" He asks and we don't say anything back. Instead we look down because we know we're not supposed to be here. "Maybe you should tell your dad to meet me in my office in ten minutes and we'll go to Riata Pass to eat." He's trying to sound cheerful, but I can tell by the way his jaw is stiff that he's mad.

My brother is going to tell our father we should go. I would, but I don't want him to be mad at me and my brother doesn't care.

"Hey, Dad," my brother says, but he's too quiet. He clears his throat and tries again. "Dad. Hey, Dad!" He almost yells and my father doesn't move. He just stares out at the racetrack even though there aren't any horses running.

My brother tries once more and my dad doesn't move and I get scared and I'm crying. I yell, "Daddy!" My father doesn't stop staring, but he raises his hand and shoos us away. Now we have to go back to our uncle's office and he will go get our father. We walk slowly, because we're embarrassed. Once I heard my aunt telling my grandma about how she saw my dad staring for hours and the way she said it let me know that he shouldn't do that. On the way to Uncle Jack's office, I ask my brother, "Why does he do that? What's wrong with him?"

"Who cares. He's dumb. Why do you even care?" My brother is flicking his middle finger against thumb the way he does when he hates my dad, so I don't say anything else.


notfainthearted said...

Awesome second act. Tension is high. I can tell it's going to be a tragedy but I want to read the third act anyway.

Also? Glad I'm not the only freak up at this hour.


Babybull40 said...

I can tell there is way more to come.. Is this good therapy for you? Cause the way you tell a story as if I am reading a novel.. only difference is this real life...can't wait for the next act..

Matt said...

Tara, you are the strongest woman I know. This world needs more women with your strenth and courage. To be able to talk about some of your childhood experiences, to be able to write about this and bring it in to the realm of the 'real'. That takes guts.

booda baby said...

Settling in for the patient wait ...

David in DC said...

Churl: This post and the last are very skilled, sophisticated, BRAVE writing.

Many great novels started as serials in newspapers or magazines.

Once you're through making it a gift to us through your blog, it would be little damn short of criminal if you failed to try to get it published for a wider audience.

Time to employ one of my favorite palindromes: WOW

Remiman said...

I never jump ahead or try to guess what's next.

I love you in the face said...

I like your stories a whole lot!

evil-e said...

I definitely do not think the ending is good, the story is very good, however. You got some skills, thanks for sharing.

l.b. said...

These are engrossing little slices of life because you (or the character of you at least) are so clear about what you felt and thought.

A said...

by the way - and I think I may have read some of this somewhere - both these posts totally rock and you should continue to write and share more of what you have written -

Churlita said...


Yeah. I'm an up late freak.




Thanks. That's so nice to hear. Sometimes I'm probably a bit too real.

Booda Baby,

I may post another installment from that piece.

David in DC,

Thanks. It seems we share the same favorite palindrome.


That is so smart of you.


Thanks. I like what you've been doing on your blog lately too.


I know. It's not really an ending, but the end of the first part. I may put some of it up later.


I wish I were clear about that at this age.


Thanks. And I will write you a proper e-mail one of these days.

Michael said...