A Piece of The Sun

28. Perpetual Stew

People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf - George Orwell

Noah POV

"You broke your sister's fingers!" My mother exploded, bursting into my room with the rest of my other mothers and aunts. Suddenly the bedroom was filled with more women than I could comprehend, I hardly had time to process that I was even alive before they came in, eyeballs lasering me. I wasn't the only one startled. Sunday was too.

"My fingers are fine, mom!" Sunday moaned back at Ashley.

My mom, Ashley had looked worse for wear, maybe even worse than mama. Her hair was the only thing in place, it had been rolled in pin curls, sections of hair waiting to be taken down from the small metal duck clips, the rest of her face flushed and sullen. She had ultimately the look of four hours of sleep and eight cups of coffee, tending to my grief-stricken birth mother.

"Not you!" Ashley fumed. "You, young lady were supposed to be in your bedroom, not sleeping in your brother's room. And you!" Ashley points her finger in my face.

"Good morning Mom," I greet her, taking her hand in mine and kissing the back of it.

"Noah?" Valentina called.

"Yes, mamo?"

"Did you break Dallas's fingers?"

I couldn't lie. I refused to set a bad example in front of my little sister and I wasn't ashamed of my handiwork either, that was perhaps one of the most satisfying things I could have done yesterday. It brought me joy to break Dallas's fingers. Now she couldn't begin to imagine driving her nasty little fingers inside of my girlfriend, nor imagine laying another harmful hand on her. "Yes, I did."

Ashley's lips pursed, her eyes widening and then beading together and her body rattled like a tea kettle whistle at the top. "Your sister can't even wipe her own shit! She's in the hospital getting seen by the doctor to fix her hands! I hope you're happy with yourself young man."

I rubbed the sleep from the corners of my eyes and stood up from the lounge chair, towering her. I saw then that the only qualifying feature Dallas had about Ashley was her blond locks and petite fairy-like figure, as well as the same colored eyes. "Mom, it doesn't make me happy that I had to break Dallas's fingers for the reason I did, but she did deserve it. Perhaps you weren't aware your daughter likes to hit on her wife. That same wife who ran into my arms looking for safety." My height dawned on Ashley's shorter frame.

Ashley shrank back, repulsed by the imagery I created about my sister. "I didn't--"

"Don't tell me you didn't fucking know, Mom!" I growled.

None of my other mothers or aunts bothered to step in to correct my behavior. "I thought you of all people would understand Jean's situation. I thought you'd pull Dallas aside and tell her what she was doing is wrong, but you stood there, enabling her shitty behavior, and for what? Was it not enough you faced the same problem time and time again when Dad raped you and Sunday's father? You'd let your own daughter be just like them?"