Saturday, February 24, 2018
Jennifer Elise Foerster
Mom sits us all down in the living room. Penny’s sucking her thumb and no one calls her out. Liam is playing on his Gameboy and Mom says, “Put your sh – STUFF away, please,” and that means that she really means business. She almost swore.
Dad won’t be home for another twelve minutes and so we just kind of sit there, waiting. “What’s going on?” Liam says.
“Put your socks back on,” Mom says, “your feet smell like Cheetos.”
I hear Dad’s key in the lock and jump up. “He’s home!” Finally. Phew. Penny might suck her thumb right off.
“We’re in the living room, Roberto,” says Mom and I’ve never heard her call him that. It sounds like another language, one that doesn’t belong in 326 Hemingway Avenue.