Domestic Gab

“Take a look at this,” mama said, handing me a photograph as I entered the kitchen. Chopped vegetables were everywhere. I wondered what she was going to do with all those.

A picture of a square-faced girl smiled before me. Her hair was long and black, allowed to flow freely below her shoulders, decorated with real flowers hanging on the side that appears to support a small portion of her do. She was wearing what seemed to be tons of make-up and a skimpy black evening gown with plunging neckline that showed a little cleavage. The photo was a close-up shot so the girl occupied three-fourths of the photo. It was clear that the shot was taken during a ball. I took 4 pieces of butter cookies from the cookie jar while mama was busy chopping tomatoes.

“ho ich thch?” I asked, munching two cookies at once, looking intently at the photo.
“That’s your brother’s girlfriend.”

“Are you sure? Where did you get this?” I said, putting the third cookie in my mouth.

“From your brother’s room, where else?”

“You trespassed his room?” I blurted, eyes wide with disbelief, crumbs falling from my mouth.

“Yes,” mama said with a look that said it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I’m his mother, have you forgotten that?”

I didn’t reply. I wondered about the times I never bothered to lock my diary. I wiped the crumbs on my mouth with tissue paper.

“Well, what do you think?” she frowned.

“I think she looks like a man. She looks like a man wearing make-up and a dress. She looks like a sissy,”

“Exactly, daughter,” mama said as-a-matter-of-factly, pointing her knife at me. I can’t believe your brother would choose someone who looks like… that!” now, pointing at the picture I’m holding.

“Mama, I don’t think this is his girlfriend,” I said. “I’ve asked him a hundred times if he has one or if he’s seeing somebody after his break-up with Denise. He always tells me ‘no’ and doesn’t care for an explanation at that. Just N-O.”

“A mother can feel things like this, daughter,” mama explained pedantically. “I will always know what my children are thinking even before they conceive of it,” she said as she placed the chopped tomatoes in a bowl. She started slicing eggplants.

“You shouldn’t judge her by her looks mama. That’s what you’ve been preaching to me since I was a kid.” I decided to be useful so I took another cutting board and a knife, and started peeling potatoes. We didn’t have a peeler.

“I’m not judging her by her looks. I know what she is by her looks,” mama said, stressing the work ‘know’. “And besides, you know that’s kidstuff: dooon’t judge a book by it’s cover,” mama said, assuming a godlike voice. “We’re just getting real, honey. And don’t forget. You’re not a kid anymore. You’re turning 16 next month.”

“Actually, that’s what I’m thinking too. I mean, that big brother has a girlfriend. I can see it from his actions. I’m just giving him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Really.”

“When we’re in the city, his phone never rested. There’s a ‘beep, beep’ every second, and it rings almost every night and every morning, like somebody’s checking on him. Once, he told me that it’s not like him to be close to any girl except if she’s somebody special and I don’t want to suppose he is gay so most probably it was his girl, huh, mama. The one who’s checking on him.”

“You see? That’s what I’m talking about. I can’t believe it would come to a point like this. How could your brother choose that girl! I mean, she’s not pretty and you said it yourself, she even looks like a man. What’s in her that attracts your brother?” Mama was already washing her hands at the sink. “I think he has just diminished himself before me. Choosing a girl like that. He had been with better! There’s Denise for one.” She was now wrapping all the cut vegetables with plastic wrap. I gave her all the potatoes I’ve sliced then took the picture beside me.

“Mama.”

“What?”

“She’s fat. Look at her arms.” I showed mama the picture like and FBI agent, pointing at the arms.”

“Yes,” mama agreed with me, squinting at the picture. “You’re stating the very obvious!” she said emphasizing ‘very’.

“You know what, ma, I’m going to tell you something but promise me you won’t tell anyone. It’s about big bro. I don’t want him to know because he might think that, well… that I’m sneaking on him.” Big pause. “…which of course I’m not. I’m just concerned. You know I would never sneak on anyone, right ma?”

“Ok! You have my word,” mama said trying to act like she doesn’t care.

“So here it is. There was this one time, I was in my room and I heard big bro talking. I thought he was on his phone so I was curious.”

Mama lifted a brow.

“Yes, I placed my ears on the wall so I could hear.”

“Sneaky,” she murmured. She was already cleaning up, now holding the old newspaper that she robbed a sheet from, to cover the counter before she did her chopping. That’s for cheap, easy cleaning, she once told me.

A long silence.

“So what did you hear,” mama said sounding casual.
“I didn’t hear anything, I couldn’t make up the words but I bet that was the girl, they talked for 3 straight hours.” Silence. “I didn’t measure it, I swear, it’s just an estimate, anyway, they talked for 3 whole hours until the line seemed to have been cut off, and there they were again, talking.” I had to catch my breath.

“Too bad you didn’t hear” was all that mama said.

“You know what ma, I’ve suspected this before—since I noticed big bro sneaking on the house phone. It was the girl calling on him. Do you remember the name I mentioned to you before? The one I found on a receipt in his car? I think that’s the name but I can’t remember”

“I don’t remember too, why don’t you go get you brother’s yearbook in his room.” Mama’s finished cleaning and has her eyes and ears all for me.

“Ma, it’s disrespect to him,” I said, trying to sound mature. “I don’t want to invade his privacy. You know I never do that to people. If you want to be respected, you should respect others. That’s what you taught me. “And besides, it will be hard to look; we don’t have the girl’s name.”

“I know where to look. I looked for the girl the moment you gave me the name. Now go.”

“What? You mean… even before…” I stammered.

“Of course, I’m his mother. I have all the rights.”

“I will not diminish myself, even if it kills me,” I said, hands on the hips, balancing my weight to the right.

“Suit yourself.”

Silence

“Wait ma, I thought you don’t like Denise.”

“No, Denise is ok. She’s pretty and clean, and she’s an honor student. Unlike that girl.” Mama said ‘that girl’ like ‘that girl’ was a slime. “I don’t even remember that girl’s name called as an honor student in your brother’s graduation. I even checked it in your brother’s yearbook. It’s not there. Denise is magna cum laude.”

“Mama, ‘that girl,’ if that’s what you want to call her, goes in the same college as bro. College of Engineering, you remember? It’s full of math. It’s hard!”

“Whatever, child. She’s not pretty and she’s not an honor student and that means her intelligence is way, way below,” mama said pointing at the floor. “Your brother should have known better. Denise is pretty and she’s an honor student. Enough said.”

Long pause.

“And she looks like a supermodel,” mama added.

“Ma, you’re hurting me. You know I’m not an honor student,” I joked, acting really hurt by what she said.

“Ooooh, you know darling I’ve known your’re smart since you were born,” mama said, kissing me on the forehead.

“And I’m a 62-inch, 137-pound, 16-year-old woman who doesn’t have a boyfriend. No one thinks I’m pretty.” I pushed, waiting for another reassurance from mama.

Mama was silent.

“Do you think somebody’s mother will think low of her son if he chooses me, ma?” I said seriously, this time, desperate for reassurance.

Mama was suddenly reading the obituary page of the old newspaper.