Lithe Turkeys

Jesse stares at his long slender fingers and thinks about all the turkeys he has made over the years at Thanksgiving time using these fingers. Fingers he, apparently, got from his mother. When he gave his grandmother the turkey he had drawn for her last Thanksgiving, she put it up on the refrigerator with delight saying, “You got your mothers hands, Jesse! These fingers certainly did not come from my people. Lithe fingers make lithe turkeys.”

One hour and 37 minutes ago, Jesse and his mother stopped talking to each other. As she had so many times before when they fought, Jesse’s mother instructed him that he did not need to talk to her any more, but he did have to stay in the same room with her.

In that time he completed his math homework, read his favorite issue of Mad Magazine and the comics section of the newspaper, eaten a bowl of cereal and periodically stared at his hands when the distractions failed.

tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap…

…the sound of water dripping from the edge of the roof on the soaked ground. As he traces the outline of his left hand fingers with the tips of his right thumb and forefinger, he listens to the sound of the rain. Anything but his head.

There is a knot in his chest that has been there for the last two hours. Maybe it has always been there. Why is it there? This is what he hates most about it. He doesn’t know why it is there – does not want to know why it is there. And now he is stuck in this room with his mom.

tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap…

At exactly one hour and 57 minutes, Jesse cries. Not hard. Just tears. Jesse’s mother gets up and rests her hand on his head.

“What is it, my love?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He is furious at her. How could she kiss someone who wasn’t his dad? It was disgusting. He hated her.

“I don’t know,” he weeps.

“Where does it hurt?”

He curls his hand into a fist and places it on his sternum.

She walks over to the couch and sits down. She pats the space next to her, “Come lay down.”

He gets up and walks over to her and sits down. She motions for him to put his head in her lap. He lays down with his legs draped over the end of the couch. She puts her hand on his chest and strokes his hair with her other hand. Tears stream down the sides of his face, into his ears and around the back of his neck.

tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap…

Jesse rolls to his side facing away from his mother and curls up in a ball. She continues to stroke his hair.

“Are you going to marry him?”

“It was just a kiss, Jesse. Getting married couldn’t be further from my mind.”

“I hate him.”

“You haven’t even met him.”

“I don’t care. I hate him.” He curls up tightly and cries. Crocodile tears soak his mother’s jeans as he sobs into his fists.

She curls down over him and wraps her arms around him tightly. “I don’t know how to do this, Jesse. I don’t know what to say to you to make it go away. But I just need you to know that I love you more than anyone has ever loved anyone. I am not going anywhere. I will always be here for you.”

“You could die, too.”

“Yes I could. But I will still be here for you.”

“How?”

“Look at your hands. They are my hands.”

“It’s not the same.”

“I know.”

“You can’t promise me that you will never leave.”

“Ok, technically I can’t. But we can’t live paralyzed that someday I might die or that you might die. At some point we have to just say, ‘Ok, I get what you mean.’ I’m going to do everything in my power to be here for you always and there is a very good chance that I will be able to keep that promise for a long time.”

Jesse sobs and the rain falls.

“What is it, really?”

“Sometime it just seems impossible.”

“What seems impossible?”

“I don’t know. This day. This life. Sometimes I don’t think about it at all and I do my stuff and everything is ok. And then sometime I just can’t imagine how I am going to do it without him. How am I going to do it without him?”

She wants to tell him that he will do it with her. That she is strong enough but instead she is quiet.

“There is nothing to look forward to,” Jesse sobs.

With everything in her power she holds back the tears. She strokes his hair. And he sobs.