AWAKE

Every morning, before the sun rises, before my eyes open, I lay awake waiting for the phone to ring. After precisely six rings, the answering machine next to my bed will kick on, and Mama’s voice will come through the speaker— “Billeeeee, Billeeeee.” Mama will sing-speak my name until I pick up the phone.

When I answer, Mama will tell me to wake up my younger sister, Lisa, and make our breakfast. Mama will not remind me to make sure we brush our teeth, wash our faces, or put clean clothes on. Mama’s only concerns are food in our bellies and us getting to school on time. After I hang up the phone, I wait. Mama always calls back in five minutes. Allowing the phone to only ring once, I answer the same way every time; “Don’t worry, Mama. I’m up.”

With eyes shut, I wait.

…

“Billy, get up.” 

I hear and feel Mama before I see her. Frantically shaking my leg, Mama leans over me, bringing her face closer to mine. I withdraw into my pillow, attempting to evade the heat pouring off Mama.

“Honey, you gotta wake up!” Mama continues shaking my leg. 

I open my eyes to an eclipse of Mama’s head hovering above me. The overhead light shining through Mama’s black hair makes it look purple. Amid the chaos, Mama floats above me like a mauve angel with a dark center. “Mama, what’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong? I’ll tell ya what’s wrong; that goddamn son of a bitch, that goddamn cheatin’ son of a bitch. That’s what’s wrong!” 

I knew what Mama meant. I understood that goddamn cheatin’ son of a bitch was Alan, my stepdad. I loved Alan.

“I’m grabbin’ Lisa. Put your jacket on and get in the car.” 

Mama’s manic tone signaled she was leaving with or without me.

Lisa and I sit next to each other in the way back. Mama blasts Tammy Wynette’s Stand by Your Man from the front of the car. Between cursing and crying, Mama shouts the lyrics, trying to match the Queen of Country’s twang. The song stops, and Mama rewinds and plays it again. Over and over.

I pull Lisa closer and watch the orange streetlights fade into the trailing darkness.

…

Denying Mama isn’t going to call, I open my eyes. Not today, or ever again, a voice from within reminds. But I don’t listen. With eyes shut, I will wait for Mama’s call again tomorrow.

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