Tuesday, September 29, 2009

I Got Bruises on My Memory

Here is a barn and and a camper and some outbuildings.

So, this frantic house hunting is taking up all of my time and energy. I looked at some houses today, and hopefully, I'll look at more tomorrow. I can't really write about it right now, because I haven't had time to process it. Instead, I will post my next story installment that began last week. Here it is:

The racetrack is made for adults. The fence that separates us from where the horses run is too high for me and Bill to see over. When the grownups get excited during a race, we stand up on the chairs to try to see, but the old men in the back seats get mad. "Sit down, you goddamn hippie kids!" One of them yells and then they throw their racing forms and plastic cups that used to hold beer at us and we have to step down.

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.

Bill 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.


Ananda girl said...

Wow. That is a very emotional piece. Well written.

Good luck with the house hunting.

May you will find the house that calls your name and may you know it on the spot. Cheers!

Remiman said...

Well done lady, well done!

AlienCG said...

I like your writing, very descriptive, very emotional. Thanks for sharing this piece of your life.

Tara said...

I know it's a frantic time for you, but it also seems very exciting. There are houses in the nearby town that are so cute. Not for sale, though.

booda baby said...

Great, great and more great. (I thought I'd give something other than 'Nice' a shot. :))

The second paragraph is per-fricking-fection, LOADED with everything it needs to be loaded with.

Rachel said...

Love the story. I will have to backstalk and read the first part.

House hunting is fun, frantic and exhausting. Hopefully you find the perfect bungalow before they all start to blur together.

laura b. said...

Makes me want to cry.

Churlita said...


Thanks on both counts.


That's very nice of you to say.


Thank you. I had it written last week already, so didn't have to write with all of this house hunting going on and making me stupid.


It is exciting. I just wish I had an assistant so I had time to get everything done and still go to work.

Booda Baby,

That's great feedback. I always appreciate that from you.


They blur together pretty quickly, don't they?


I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad.

Pamela said...


.j.william. said...

this part is so good it even reads well as a standalone, without the backstory. Nicely done.