Fuck', I think. What a beautiful word. If I could say only one thing for the rest of my life, that would be it.
Kaui Hart HemmingsScottie and I walk down the hall. Her T-shirt says MRS. CLOONEY,
Kaui Hart HemmingsTags: t-shirt george-clooney matt-king mrs-clooney scottie-king
I wouldn’t know what to do with daughters,' he says. 'Exchange them for sons?'
'But then I could wind up with something like you.'
'I’m not so bad,' he says. 'I’m smart.'
'You’re about a hundred miles away from the town of Smart, my friend.'
'You’re mistaken, counselor,' he says. 'I’m smart, I can take care of myself. I’m an awesome tennis player, a keen observer of life around me. I’m a good cook. I always have weed.'
'I’m sure your parents are proud.'
'It’s possible.' He looks at his knees and I wonder if I’ve offended him.
Tags: smart sons daughters matt-king sid
I hope she can’t tell that I’m appraising her and that I’m completely worried by what I see. She’s excitable and strange. She’s ten. What do people do during the day when they’re ten? She runs her fingers along the window and mumbles, “This could give me bird flu,” and then she forms a circle around her mouth with her hand and makes trumpet noises. She’s nuts. Who knows what’s going on in that head of hers, and speaking of her head, she most definitely could use a haircut or a brushing. There are small tumbleweeds of hair resting on the top of her head. Where does she get haircuts? I wonder. Has she ever had one before? She scratches her scalp, then looks at her nails. She wears a shirt that says I’M NOT THAT KIND OF GIRL. BUT I CAN BE! I’m grateful that she isn’t too pretty, but I realize this could change.
Kaui Hart HemmingsTags: father daughters-of-darkness matt-king scottie-king
TIA OR TARA has stopped applying makeup to my wife’s face and is looking at Scottie with disapproval. The light is hitting this woman’s face, giving me an opportunity to see that she should perhaps be working on her own makeup. Her coloring is similar to a manila envelope. There are specks of white in her eyebrows, and her concealer is not concealing. I can tell my daughter doesn’t know what to do with this woman’s critical look.
“What?” Scottie asks. “I don’t want any makeup.” She looks at me for protection, and it’s heartbreaking. All the women who model with Joanie have this inane urge to make over my daughter with the notion that they’re helping her somehow. She’s not as pretty as her older sister or her mother, and these other models think that slapping on some rouge will somehow make her feel better about her facial fate. They’re like missionaries. Mascara thumpers.
“I was just going to say that I think your mother was enjoying the view,” Tia or Tara says. “It’s so pretty outside. You should let the light in.”
My daughter looks at the curtain. Her little mouth is open. Her hand reaches for a tumbleweed of hair.
“Listen here, T. Her mother was not enjoying the view. Her mother is in a coma. And she’s not supposed to be in bright light.”
“My name is not T,” she says. “My name is Allison.”
“Okay, then, Ali. Don’t confuse my daughter, please.”
“I’m turning into a remarkable young lady,” Scottie says.
“Damn straight.” My heart feels like one of Scottie’s clogs clomping down the hall. I don’t know why I became so angry.
Tags: father daughter matt-king scottie-king
Scott still stares at Sid, then turns to Alice and hands her the Scotch. “We’re going to go see Joanie today,” he says.
Alice grins. “And Chachi?” she asks.
Sid bursts out laughing and Scott turns back to him, then places a hand on his shoulder, which makes me fear for his life. “You be quiet, son,” Scott says. “I could kill you with this hand. This hand has been places.”
I shake my head and look at both Sid and Alex.
Scott lifts his hand off Sid’s shoulder and turns again to his wife. “No, Alice. Our Joanie. Our daughter. We’re going to give her anything she wants.” He glares at me. “Think about what she would want, Alice. We’re going to get it for her and bring it to her. Bring it right to her bed.”
“Joanie and Chachi,” Alice chants. “Joanie and Chachi!”
“Shut up, Alice!” Scott yells.
Alice looks at Scott as though he just said “Cheese.” She clasps her hands together and smiles, staying in the pose for a few seconds. He looks at her face and squints. “Sorry, old gal,” he says. “You go ahead and say whatever you want.”
“It was funny,” Sid says. “All I was doing was laughing. She has a good sense of humor. That’s all. Maybe she knows she’s being funny. I think she does.”
“I’m going to hit you,” Scott says. His arms hang alongside him, the muscles flexed, veins big like milk-shake straws. I know he’s going to hit Sid because that’s what he does. I’ve seen him hit Barry. I, too, have been hit by Scott after I beat him and his buddies at a game of poker. His hands are in fists, and I can see his knobby old-man knuckles, the many liver spots almost joining to become one big discoloration, like a burn. Then he pops his fist up toward Sid, a movement like a snake rearing its head and lunging forth. I see Sid start to bring his arm up to block his face, but then he brings it down and clutches his thigh. It’s almost as if he decided not to protect himself. The end result is a punch in his right eye, a screaming older daughter, a frightened younger daughter, a father trying to calm many people at once, and a mother-in-law cheering wildly as though we have all done something truly amazing.
Tags: alice scott punch matt-king scottie-king sid alex-king
We need to get home and put some ointments and ice on the stings. Vinegar will make it worse, so if you thought Giraffe Boy could pee on you, you’re shit out of luck.”
She agrees as if prepared for this—the punishment, the medication, the swelling, the pain that hurts her now and the pain that will hurt her later. She seems okay with my disapproval. She’s gotten her story, after all, and she’s beginning to see how much easier physical pain is to tolerate than emotional pain. I’m unhappy that she’s learning this at such a young age.
“The hospital will have ointments and ice,” she says.
Tags: father daughter emotional-pain physical-pain matt-king scottie-king
We walk up the sandy slope toward the dining terrace. I see Troy sitting at a table with some people I know. I look at Scottie to see if she sees him, and she is giving him the middle finger. The dining terrace gasps, but I realize it’s because of the sunset and the green flash. We missed it. The flash flashed. The sun is gone, and the sky is pink. I reach to grab the offending hand, but instead, I correct her gesture.
“Here, Scottie. Don’t let that finger stand by itself like that. Bring up the other fingers just a little bit. There you go. That’s the cool way to do it.”
Troy stares at us and smiles a bit. He’s completely confused.
“All right, that’s enough.” I suddenly feel sorry for Troy. He must feel awful.
Tags: troy middle-finger matt-king scottie-king
I lean down so that my face is right in front of hers and whisper, ‘He doesn’t love you. I love you.
Kaui Hart HemmingsTags: betrayal matt-king brian-speer joane
Say goodbye to your mom.”
Scottie pauses, then keeps going.
“Scottie.”
“Bye!” she yells.
I grab her arm. I could yell at her for wanting to leave, but I don’t. She pulls her arm out of my grasp. I look up to see if anyone is watching us, because I don’t think you’re supposed to aggressively hold children these days. Gone are the days of spanking, threats, and sugar. Now there are therapy, antidepressants, and Splenda.
Tags: mother kids father daughter threats theraphy matt-king scottie-king
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