Hunger Pains

Coffee Cup

**This piece has been previously published in the 30th Volume of Tempered Steel Literary Magazine in 2020**

    Her short brown hair lied flat on her back as her hickory colored eyes were plastered to the little scenery our apartment porch gave us; A McDonalds that was always busy with customers zooming in and out, a hotel that was fixed right in front of the Rocky Mountains, and the parking lot that lied underneath us. She wore a light pink tank top, a blue sweat shirt that was zipped halfway, her light blue sweat pants that were too long for her short legs and were constantly being dragged on the floor, and a pair of dark blue slippers. Close to her lips were lines dented in her skin revealing that she laughed and smiled more often than the average person. Her forehead revealed even more lines; probably from the stress of work...or from her own three kids. Her glasses fit perfectly on her face even though they were probably a few years old. The cigarette that was in her right hand lied perfectly in between her pointer and middle finger; watching as she brought it up to her light pink lips, breathed in the toxins that I've told her were probably killing her slowly, and released this light colored that would follow where the wind took them. 

    "I'm tired of struggling financially. I'm tired of not having anyone to help me and I'm so fucking tired of dealing with things on my own. I'm just tired." 

    "Why don't you ask someone for help, mama? Like your sister or your boyfriend?" 

    "Because they won't help me. They only care about what they can get out of me." 

    "Why?"

    "Because that's just people honey. That's the way the world works...I don't want you to have the life that I had. I want you to not have to worry about if you're going to be able to pay your bills on time, or if you have enough money to get something that you need. I don't want you to have to depend on any man. Got it?" 

    "Yes ma'am." 

    My mom was not like any of the moms I have seen. She didn't stay at home to clean the kitchen counter tops, she didn't nosey her way in my bedroom to do a thorough search just to make sure that I wasn't smoking cocaine behind her back (but, she knew that I would never do anything like that since I pledged to be drug free in the fourth grade), and she definitely wasn't like any of my friends' moms--wanting to go on shopping sprees whenever she had extra cash, passing down a generations worth of recipes, or even going on family vacations every summer because we just didn't have the money to do expensive yet extravagant trips. Instead, every morning she would make herself a warm cup of freshly brewed coffee, grab a warm blanket, her cell phone, a cigarette and would sit outside on the porch until either her cigarette was done or her cup empty. I was never too fond of her smoking habit--the smell was disgusting as it touched my nostrils and the way it gripped on your clothes just made the idea even more revolting--but, on some weekends when she didn't wake up after ten in the morning, I would join her with my own blanket draped around my shoulders and a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch occupying my hands. Mostly she would just talk and I would just sit there and listen even when trucks would pass by the apartment complex and made it difficult to hear. 

    "I hope to get enough back on this tax return. I want to take you and your sisters to Disney World for spring break. What do you think about that?" She would ask with a smile carving her face. 

    "That sounds like fun!"

    "Maybe we could even take a road trip! We could stop in Arkansas, say hi to your grandpa and nana, then maybe make our way to Michigan where I can take you guys to Mackinac Island to try their fudge. Maybe we can even go to New York, I knew you've always wanted to go there." 

    I can't tell you how many times she would say she would take us to the wonderful world of Disney, but once spring break came around, we were trapped in the same four white walls of our apartment with a swimming pool downstairs, not enough gas to really go anywhere besides the park down the street, and no money to go get a tall vanilla ice cream cone at BJ Velvet Freeze. Those broken promises itched my skin, but I shook it off as many times as I could until I just couldn't anymore.