The b***h Book

Chapter 3: MOM

Mom,

The other day I was looking through an old people magazine and I started thinking about you. Remember the time we dyed your hair? It was supposed to be platinum but it came out a funny gray shade. You were pretty mortified. For some reason that's one of my strongest memories of you.

Here lately I've been wondering why you never ask me to visit. We used to spend more time together. I know you're busy with your new boyfriend and other things. I guess sometimes a woman just needs her mama. Right?

I've thought long and hard about a lot of things when it comes down to family. It hasn't escaped me that I can count on one hand the family I even speak to. It's a shame, really. I tend to rub people the wrong way. Say the wrong thing.

That time I had a run-in with that girl at school. Tamara. She sucker punched me for talking to her little boyfriend. I beat her so hard she missed school for a week. Were you proud of me then?

I couldn't say I like your new bf and not be lying. I think it has a lot to do with his face. He's got those beady little eyes that go back and forth. He doesn't look like he can be trusted. Why are you with him? Serious question.

I have a favor to ask. It's going to sound odd but bear with me. The next time you see me would you please talk to me about my unicorn pajamas? And the hot chocolate on the back porch? Could we talk about the way you rub my back when I'm sad and how your voice makes me want to cry sometimes? I love you, mom. I don't say that nearly enough.

I think I am broken. Nothing makes sense to me anymore. I say and do terrible things. Sometimes I feel bad about that. Mostly I don't. Have I always been this way and just never noticed? Have I? I'll write again soon. I miss you.

Desiree