Milkshake And Fries
by Bobbi Lurie
“Dementia,” I say, “don't put your fingers in the milkshake.” I only call her Dementia cause she doesn't answer to “Ma” anymore.
I'm a good daughter. I take her to lunch every Wednesday. I sign her out of The Home. I hate watching her try to eat. I'm sick of her not speaking.
I text Dexter: u don't luv me
LOL, he texts back.
Dexter is a demon. He called me an over-accessorized hot spot yesterday evening and FYI: he didn't even kiss me. I slammed the door and left my own apartment. I slept in my car. I wanted him to know how much I suffer for him.
U r all whim was his text.
Stiff back from not sleeping, hacking cough from too much grass, I pick up Dementia on schedule, regardless of circumstance.
Dementia, I say to my mother, Dexter just texted me. I think he's gonna split.
Dementia answered, 86, 86, 86.
Isn't 86 what you say when somethin's gone? I pulled the waiter's arm and whispered in his ear. What the fuck, he said, under his breath, looking like a little kid. I pulled him harder and screamed in his ear. Yes, he finally said, pulling away like every creep guy I ever met.
I ordered me and Dementia vanilla milkshakes and a plate of French fries. The kid jotted it all down in his memory bank and fled. He plopped down the mess, without a word, five minutes later.
Dementia was putting fries in her milkshake, licking her fingers, dropping the milkshake-stained fries all over the place, including her face, dress, lap. She needed a bib. I was sick to my stomach, watching my once-beautiful mother.
Mommy…that word came out again.
86, 86 86, she kept repeating, licking her fingers, scratching her ass.
86, I texted Dexter.
The phone beeped back: LOL
FYI, I texted back, F U.
Some chick cleared the mess. The kid stayed out of sight. Dementia got up and started wandering, tasting food from the plates of strangers.
I took Dementia back to The Home, hugging her, without a hug in return, just like real life. She didn't even turn around when the orderlies buzzed her in.
You're all I have, Mommy, I said to myself.
Then I went back to texting Dext.
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Author's Note
published in "pif"
Other stories by Bobbi Lurie
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I like this. It's fresh. The voice is alive. I think I'll read it again.
Sharp and brilliant. The emotional isolation comes through on all levels.
Thank you, Chris and Neil. Was afraid to post. I appreciate it.
Voice so real and terrible afraid, crackling. Strong, constrained, rhythmic sentences. And, having walked some of this territory, feeling is on the nose. Kudos.
Good to see you here, Michael. Yes. The Feeling. Yes. Doesn't go away...thank you for reading and commenting. I appreciate it.
That's a great venue, Bobbi. Agree with Neil about the focus on isolation here. The voice makes it work. The phrasings are dead on. I like.
Glad to see your face in this place!
This is haunting and raw.
"once-beautiful mother" comes at just the right place and gave me a pang. also "just like real life". Tiny surprises. I like that her (good) advice is still around, if she isn't. I enjoyed this.
I like Pia's comment (for its precise spottings), agree. Excellent story, every dot of it. If I say you are a genius, you will balk. I think you once tweeted, "Ann Bogle is brilliant," and I accepted it, but genius is of another order, I agree, and for me, hard to tolerate as a compliment. So, I won't say that. I'll say, "The story is genius" and mean it in a life (as peeks out in "just like real life") as well as literary way. *
Yeah, I really liked this. Edgy and gutsy. Fave.
Thank you, Pia, very much. Thank you Sam and Sally and Gary-thanks so much for reading and commenting. Ann, it means a lot to me what you write. Thank you. I appreciate it very much.
Fave. Bobbi, this story is unrelenting in its sadness. Your writing captures the futility of the relationships so well.
Brilliant and heartbreaking. I'll say that without expecting a hug in return.*
John and David. You are both such excellent writers. thank you.
Funny and true and heartbreaking.
Highest kudos.
*
Truly heartbreaking... and so real. Great one!
Great piece *
Thank you, Bill, Kenton and Penny. I appreciate it.
Painful voice to hear. Excellent writing. *
Powerful and painful piece, Bobbi. I could see this story and your characters very vividly in my mind as I read it. I felt I knew these characters.
I missed this s coupl of days ago . Very nice work.
tough work. nicely done. *
Love the voice here, the story, the names of the characters, the way it plays out. Perfection.
*
Thank you Beate,Emily, Steven, James, Susan. I was gone so long and I appreciate you guys welcoming me here like this. Also, I'm very happy to be reading your new work. Am very impressed with Fictionaut. Forgot about this part: the great stories posted and the kind support. E.W. Swackhamer: this may be the best of the names...?
Raw and sad. Excellently written with all its excruciating pain. Fave*.
Nicely written. The idea of calling her "Dementia" out of the gate captured me. Hits close to home also.
Brilliant. *
This is an amazing piece. It captures something quite special in a voice that I at least can't remember haven't heard from you perhaps, because the Facebook world meets the poet's world here, and so far I'm only referring to style and not even to the heartbreak yet.
Fantastic work Bobbie.
*
Hmmmmmmm.
Thank you, Larissa. Have never been on Facebook, Marcus...but...texting? In restaurants people barely speak in 3-D-they speak to their phone. Thank you, Roberto. Sheldon, yes. Exactly. Thank you.
Primal fear dominates the tone here. Discommodes me with flawless grace.
*
This is snarky and sharp and funny and painful, all at the same time. And very real, the pacing, the rhythm, all so good. I love that you call her Dementia... like some distorted Greek goddess. wonderful!
Good Mother Nature protects Dementia from a hard-to-understand-sometimes New World. The poor protagonist is torn between duty and reality. Wonderful, careful work, Bobbi. *
This packs a real emotional impact - so much said. There isn't a word wasted. "Just like real life." Excellent writing here.
Seriously sad-funny piece, very moving overwhelmed protagonist. Gives flash fiction a good reputation, for sure. Being in your character’s head/life I won’t get over for a good while—very gripping.