To Love What Draws Your Blood-7

“Angli, sit.”1

Angli’s mother rummaged through her small closet, tossing to her bed a brown dress with ugly beige flower print and ruffles. Angli slumped back down onto her mother’s lumpy king-size bed, expecting a dog biscuit to be tossed her way. She wasn’t even good enough for that. She stared beside her at the spring that had broken through the material; it had been poking out for years now and Judie called it their mother’s “Dildo Holder,” which sent her into a laughing frenzy.2

Minutes passed without any speaking until her mother suddenly squawked, “Angli, sit down!” pointing behind her to the nightstand, her face still buried deep into the moldy stench of her closet.3

Angli had been sitting on the bed for the past five minutes. She still didn’t know quite what she wanted of her ... it was sort of unnerving, sitting there without any yelling, just the screeching of metal hangers scraping against the rusty metal closet rack. It was hell to breathe there; the room smelled like cheap cigarettes and unwashed underwear, both of which were visible any way you turned. She figured the only reason her mother was treating her like an actual human was because she and Judie were having up to six fights a day; Angli figured her mother wanted her on her side rather than Judie’s. Oh well. At least she was being treated nearly as well as a pet.4

“I need you...” her mother began, pausing for a moment as she searched the old jeans she hadn’t worn in eleven years for loose change (she still hung them in her closet for hope of one day fitting into a size ten), “to tell me which outfit you think is best for my date with Steve next weekend.”5

Next weekend? Angli exclaimed in her head. She was occupied mocking her mother with her thoughts until she realized exactly what she’d just asked. And her jaw dropped to the ground so hard, it broke through the hardwood floor. She stopped fiddling with her cracked nail and stared up at her mother, regardless of the fact that her mother was in nothing besides a sky blue Miracle Bra knockoff and a crusty red thong.6

Had she just requested fashion advice from her despised offspring? Could it be?? Surely not ... The words “Angli” and “Which Outfit” should never be in the same sentence at any time unless the words “doesn’t know” were included. This was surely Judie’s area of expertise.7

Evidently her mother and Judie really did hate each other now—to the point that her mother asked her for advice. TWILIGHT ZONE.8

Her mother snatched the shit-brown dress from the bed, not seeing that it had become friends with the extroverted spring, which had torn the back of it in one beautifully crooked line. She held it against her overly exposed body (Angli had never been so appreciative of that dress; She’d hold it in high regard from then on, but would never, ever touch it unless held at gunpoint) and put on that candy-coated smile she usually wore at church. She smoothed it out over her plump stomach and then gave a little spin as if she were wearing the damn thing, giving Angli another horrid glance at her cellulite-friendly ass.9

Angli blinked hard, trying desperately to erase the haunting image from her mind but smiled politely once her mother had stopped spinning to face her. “Well,” Angli began slowly, forcing herself to speak, knowing she was walking on a lovely plane of landmines, “I think.... What kind of date is this?”10

She let out this scary sort of growl that sounded like a brief sound excerpt from The Exorcist. Angli was just about to bless the cup of tap water by the bed, just in case Satan had suddenly possessed her mother and needed a good spray of Holy Water, when her mother thrashed the dress to the floor and kicked it under her bed. Angli had to close her eyes at the view.11

“Fine,” her mother said frigidly with a nod, “I got it. You don’t have to say any more, Angli. If you don’t like my hair ... fine. I’ll live. Just tell me.”12

What is wrong with this woman? Angli thought, shaking her head cluelessly.13

“I distinctly saw you eyeing my hair instead of my dress, Angli. Distinctly! Now have at it, honey, let’s complain about Mommy!” She clenched her hands on her hips and raised an “eyebrow,” which was more a drawing. She’d shaved them off a couple of years back and instead drew any kind of eyebrow the magazines said were in for the season. They simply ended up looking like crooked bobby pins.14

“Ma-om, I wasn’t even looking at your hair!” she explained quickly with a shrug, which was a bad move. Her mother hated it when she shrugged. “It makes you look fatter!” she’d say.15

Instead of yelling this time, her mother slid a finger under her left eye as if she were crying and then sat beside Angli on the bed. “You know ... I really like Steve,” she told Angli, bending far over to feel for the dress beneath the bed. “God knows he treats me well,” she continued from below, “and he’s very passionate.”16

Angli rolled her eyes and blew a stray hair from her eye. Please don’t go into your passionate sex talk.17

Her mother sprung back up as if out of nowhere, giving her that scary look through her green contacts. “I’m sorry if this is boring you to the point you have to give a dull sigh, Angli,” she snapped, her arm still hanging from the bed as if it weren’t ready to give up the search for the dress. “I’m sorry that my other children are to too young to comprehend the feeling of true love and that I have to just dump all this stuff on you, Angli. I’m sorry.”18

Some women should really wear a sign around their neck saying...19

“My crotch is bleeding.20

BEWARE!”21

It would prevent a lot of unneeded anxiety around the globe, Angli decided with a proud sigh; she’d just discovered something not only women but also men could profit from. Yay!22

“Thanks, Angli,” her mother said manipulatively with another nod. “You can leave now. I wouldn’t want to burden anyone by sharing some emotion.”23

Angli shook her head. “Bu—”24

“No, no. No need, honey. I understand,” she interrupted briskly, holding up a hand to silence her. “Why don’t you go exercise your arm now by lifting handfuls of chips into your mouth? Make sure to keep hydrated with Kool-Aid. That’s the only type of exercise you’ve ever done, right, Angli?”25

Angli clenched her jaw, closed her eyes and turned away, fighting back some tears until she had enough strength to smile and leave the room. “Right mom,” she muttered at the bedroom doorway before she left. “That’s right.”26