We All Fall Down
Trapped
I hold my breath as long as I can. It is her car. No windows down in winter. In the garage, we push out of the car and breathe. Air so cold it burns our burnt lungs. She goes inside to overflowing ashtrays she doesn't empty.
Hidden
She is my baby girl, born between boys. She thinks I don't see her; it is painful for me to look, to love. Six years old and smaller than my youngest. She clings to her father as I hid from mine. I didn't give her enough skin. The world will always hurt her.
I find her squeezed behind a large mirror stored in her bedroom closet. Asleep, eyes swollen, chewing a knuckle. For her birthday, the girls across the street gave her a necklace and a pair of Hello Kitty underpants. She tried to keep the necklace and leave the underpants. Fran Aldrich yelled at her and took the necklace. I learned this from Fran, when she came over to tell me my daughter has bad manners.
I leave my baby sleeping in the closet. When she wakes, we will have birthday cake and presents. I didn't know she liked necklaces. I will get her one next year.
Gone
The day before I left for college, she came to my room to talk to me about sex. She was chewing nicotine gum. The smell made me sick. She told me to tell her if I met someone special. I nodded without looking up from packing sheets and towels. The smell of her gum clung to the sheets I put on the bed in my dorm room.
Found
She's been my sister's best friend since high school. More than 10 years. I kissed her last week. She had been drinking. She tensed when I grabbed her ass to pull her closer. I wanted her to not look scared. She left out the back door. I followed, only to the sidewalk. I lit a cigarette and watched her walk away from me.
I called her the next day. She came back. We did quiet things: hiking, reading, backgammon. She moved closer every day. On the fourth, she said she wanted to. I knew to be careful. She exhaled “oh,” her mouth a perfect circle.
Safe
He tells me he loves me. He smokes in the car in winter. Outside, he kisses me, protecting my lungs from frigid air.
He doesn't know he was my first. I won't tell. There are things I keep.
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Author's Note
Published in You Must Be This Tall To Ride (May 2010)
Other stories by Lauren Becker
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Ah, I really love this. Just nice simple but effective writing.
Fave: I knew to be careful. She exhaled “oh,” her mouth a perfect circle.
nicotine gum is rough.
Well now. This is wonderful. I really like this form, lauren. Great flow, section to section. Places the reader inside the piece. Good writing.
thanks so much jules! i'm glad you liked it. looking forward to reading your work.
why, nicolle elizabeth! where the heck have you been?! i'll take your word on the nicotine gum thing. sounds pretty ick.
hi sam! thanks much. you always say such nice things. i haven't been around in awhile -- need to catch up with your work!
Lauren...great form and a very well done piece. Congrats!
Really calm and delicate and lovely. Sorta made me feel peaceful reading it. Fav.
Lauren, this is excellent. I love how each of these pieces works together yet they also work as standalone micros. Each section is well crafted, with concrete voice and smooth flow. I think I might like “Hidden,” if forced to choose a favorite.
thanks so much, michael. the form sort of confused me when i wrote this initially. i put it away for a long time (which i'm starting to realize is not a bad thing ...) and finished when i became more comfortable with it. i'm glad it finally came together and seems to make some sense.
thank you, roberta. what a nice comment. i liked that it made you feel calm and peaceful, despite the tension between mother and daughter. i saw the quietness but i always appreciate hearing how people see different things - true things - that i didn't really see, myself.
Painfully good. Great structure, too. I'm a sucker for titled sections and for last paragraphs like this:
"He doesn't know he was my first. I won't tell. There are things I keep."
christian: i think i might like "hidden" best, too. i thought the mother deserved some humanity. thank you for reading and for the commment!
thanks sheldon. "painfully good" is a high compliment, though i hope it didn't hurt too much. i appreciate the comment.
Beautiful, Lauren!
Wow. The pace sets the tone, it's almost a flatline of life with blips of horror and peace interspersed. Beautifully written.
"There are things I keep", I love the simple finality of this last line. The structure of this piece is very nice. Sparse, artful.
Thank you Marcelle, Susan, and Isabell -- such kind words.
Great writing, Lauren. 'I didn't give her enough skin.' - that stood out.
Edgy and cryptic story with these interesting fragmented parts, like a smashed vase someone tried to re-glue, that you can see is still beautiful
Wow, these are beautiful, just beautiful...
You have such talent!