A Cold Tile Floor

I thought she was going to cry when I cussed her out. She didn’t, though, and to tell you the truth it kind of pissed me off.

I spun around so that my frontside faced the wall and my backside the revolving fan. It was the only hot room in the entire house. The dim-witted cat perched on the windowsill wouldn’t stop purring at its imaginary combatants. Creepy figurines scurried across the wall as the moon cut through the tangled blinds. I couldn’t sleep.

I rolled onto my back in aggravation and felt something jutting into my lower left hip. I reach down and pulled up the plaid button-down I had worn a few nights earlier on my date with Kay. I chucked it at the floor as if the goddamn shirt should have known better and then raised my hands above my head in a half stretch, half power position. “Fucking shirt,” I mumbled.

My thoughts were developing into dreams as a growl emanated from my stomach, peremptorily dispelling all hopes of nodding off.

“Well,” I said tapping on the window. “If it wasn’t the growl of my stomach, you probably would have just upped your goddamn meowing an octave or two.“

The cat only gave a cursory look and then howled again into the night.

I made sure to grab my slippers and a fleece and then trudged over to my phone and flicked it on. No text from Kay. “Whatever. Fuck it.” I thought.

When I got to the kitchen, my mother stood eerily at the island.

“Jesus,” I exclaimed. “You almost scared me half to death. What are you doing up?” I asked.

“Presumably the same thing you are doing up,” she said with a half smile. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Sure” I said, “I was gonna make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

“How about a peanut butter and banana?” And without waiting for an answer she ripped banana from the batch. When she walked to the cupboard to grab the peanut butter, I noticed she wasn’t wearing any shoes or socks.

“Jesus mom your feet must be freezing,” I exclaimed. “Do you want my slippers or what? These tiles are cold as hell. You know that.”

“No, no,” she said waving away at my gesture frantically. “You keep them. I am just fine.”

“Alright. But goddamn these tiles are cold as hell. I think you should wear some slippers or socks or something.”

“Try not to swear so much, dear. And that’s very considerate. I will be fine.”

It was silent while she meticulously crafted the sandwich.

“Hey mom—oh thanks,” I said as she slid the plate in front of me.

She walked over to the fridge in her bare feet mind you and poured herself a glass of orange juice. She loves orange juice. I swear to god she drinks it practically all day. She makes it, in fact, right at home. She nearly cried when my sister and I gave her this high-tech juicer like two years ago for christmas.

“Hey mom,”

“Yes, dear?”

“Do you remember when Audrey and I gave you that juicer?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said with a smile.

“You almost cried when we got you that juicer, you remember that? You damn near cried, you were so damn excited.”

“Stop cursing dear, and yes it was incredibly sweet of you both.”

I just love that about moms. They always have these very simple hobbies that they can’t get enough of. Like my next door neighbor’s mom always gardens and if you ever gave her some sort of gardening supply like weed-be-gone or something like that she would probably cry, too. And my buddy’s mom always jumps on little trampolines in the living room because she says it is good for her nervous system or blood flow or something. I thought one time about getting her little ankle weights so that she could get some resistance in there, but I thought that would have been weird. But now that I think about it, if I had given her ankle weights, I swear to god she would have cried with happiness. I should have done it. I really should have.

“Hey mom,”

“Yes, dear?”

“You can’t sleep either or what?”

“Chew your food dear, and no not really.” She reached over and took some honey down from the shelf.

“You thinking about dad when you are trying to sleep?”

Her face winced quickly, but all the muscles reset and relaxed in no time.

“Occasionally, but not too often,” she whispered plaintively. “Here, dear, lift that top piece of bread. I forgot about the honey.”

“Oh ya. Thanks.”

She walked back to the cabinet in her bare feet and put away the honey, upside down so that it would be easier to pour for the next guy. That’s another awesome thing about moms. They are always putting the honey upside down, and doing other stuff like separating the tupperware so its easier to find the matches and hand washing the sharp knives so they don’t get dull. I just love that about moms.

Then, I started thinking about my dad and what he was doing right now. I bet if he were in the kitchen making a sandwich for one of his other kids, he wouldn’t put the honey upside down. I just knew he wouldn’t.”

“Well then why can’t you sleep?” I asked. “Are you thinking about Audrey, or what?”

“I think about her a lot, Ya. But that’s not keeping me from sleeping necessarily. When you get older it can just become difficult to sleep I suppose. It’s hard to control things.”

I only half heard my mother because I kept imagining my father with one of his step kids in the kitchen. I have a wild imagination. I imagined my dad in his new home and how he would be standing there in his slippers forgetting to put the goddamn honey upside down, and I was becoming more and more angry.

“Hey, you know I hope me and Audrey haven’t been too much trouble.” I said. “I can live with you being anxious about some stuff but not about us two. I know she would say the same thing, too.” The words just sort of left my lips, not because the sentiment was disingenuous, though, but because I kept staring at my mom’s bare feet.

“No, no I love you and Audrey. I should be anxious about you two. That is only natural. But that is not the anxiousness that keeps me awake at night.”

I couldn’t stand it now. My imagination was running wild and all I could think of was my goddamn dad standing there in his slippers, forgetting to put the honey upside down. He could just forget to put the honey upside down and then fall asleep right afterwards. I just knew it. It was completely unfair.

My mother peered out of the window for a second. “Ya, you know,” she said half to herself, “you can’t make people’s choices for them. They do what they want.” And then she whispered wistfully, “I think I will try to sleep again.”

“Can’t make people’s choices for them” I muttered allowed.

“I beg your pardon?” She whispered as she rounded the island.

I immediately threw my arm up.

“Look,” I said, “take the goddamn slippers before you go back to your bedroom. It’s a long hallway. I cannot have you getting your feet cold like this.”

She looked slightly scared and started to mumble something, but before she could get it out, I left the slippers and ran to my room. I bound up the steps two at a time and flung the window open. The cat jolted back a bit, ostensibly frightened by the violent intrusion. I began reaching out to shove it off the ledge.

“Go,” I shouted. “Go and do whatever you need to do. I don’t know why you are purring so much or who you are talking to or trying to protect or what but just go and do it for godssake.” I reached out again, but the cat leapt to the ground before I could touch it. It looked up at me as if I were the most dim-witted thing it had ever laid eyes on.

Then I ran to my phone and dialed a number.

“Hello…. Ethan?” Came a sleepy voice at the other end of the line.

“Listen. I’ve decided I am sorry,” I said, still shouting. “I’ve decided I am sorry.”

“Ethan,” she said, “Not so loud, please. What is going on?”

“I am sorry,” I shouted, becoming choked up. “I’ve decided I am sorry.”

I turned and saw my mother standing in the doorway, her old, worn body half illuminated from the twisted glow of the moon. She sobbed quietly in her oversized slippers as she looked on.