“Where is mom?” Anan asked plaintively as she set thebowl of Rice Krispies in front of Emanna, along with a spoon that seemedrelatively clean. Emanna looked at her with questioning eyes; she had not yetstarted to speak. Anan didn’t know if that was normal or not, but she wasbeginning to suspect that it wasn’t. “Don’t worry; I’m sure she’ll be heresoon,” she told Emanna more to reassure herself than Emanna.
Anan poured herself her own bowl of cereal and ploppeddown at the kitchen table. The first spoonful wasn’t so bad. The cereal wasstill crunchy, but she wished that they still had sugar. Rice Krispies werealways better with sugar, but as with most things, they had run out weeks ago.Emanna was done with her bowl, so she hopped off of the chair and tossed thebowl in the sink, adding to the festering pile of dirty dishes.
Anan looked at the pile with dread in her eyes. So manydishes. She finished the last bite of her cereal, and walked over to the sink.Hesitantly, she began pulling the dishes out of the sink, trying to avoidgetting her hands wet or getting any of the really nasty moldy bits on herfingers. She dry-heaved throughout the process.
In the other room, she could hear Emmana turning on theTV. They only received a few channels, and it didn’t sound like anything thatAnan wanted to watch, so she resigned herself to finishing the dishes.
After she had cleared out the sink, she looked at thebottom of it. Mold and old food were plastered to the bottom of the sink, andwith disgust in her chest, she picked up the old lump of steel wool that woulddo the scraping and cleaning. She leaned over the edge of the sink, grindingaway with the steel wool, her shirt getting wet in the process.
Her mind wandered as she scrubbed, thinking of bettertimes and better places. She remembered her father, his brown skin and the wayhe would always smile with his missing teeth. She missed him. Anan spent most ofher daydreaming minutes fantasizing about her dad walking through the door. Shewould run to him, leap into the air, and he would catch her in one smoothmotion and hug her tight in his arms. But she knew that wasn’t going to happen.She knew that people just didn’t come back from being dead, and if they did,well, it wouldn’t be anything that she would want to hug.
She shook the water off of the bowl that she had justcleaned and placed it on the counter to drip dry. She grabbed an old pot,covered in radioactive orange filth. What was this? Oh yeah, her mom had mademacaroni and cheese last week. It was good… but this was just nasty. The partsof the pot where water had been sitting were covered in soggy and cold orangemuck.
Anan turned the water on to get it as hot as possible,but still the stubborn soggy bits wouldn’t separate from the sides of the pot.It was time for more steel wool. She held the semi-rusty blob up to the window;bits of food and filth dangled from the swoops and loops that composed thesoggy bundle. She tried not to look at it too hard, and she began scrubbing thepot.
Her mom had never told her what had happened to her dad.When she had asked her about it, her mom had seemed sad and almost embarrassed,then she had told Anan to never speak of it again. One night, when she wassupposed to be sleeping in her room, Anan had snuck into the hallway to listento her mom and her new boyfriend talk. She heard her mom sobbing. She had beentalking about Anan’s father, and she overheard the word "overdosed,"but her 7-year-old mind had no idea what that meant. The man with his armsaround his mother held up an object to her mother’s lips, ran his hand throughher hair, and told her that everything was going to be ok. Then he pulled out alighter, held it to the object, and Anan watched from around the corner as hermother blew smoke into the air, acrid, stinging smoke. Anan didn’t like thesmell of it, so she went back to her bed, wondering what the word “overdose”meant.
From the other room, Anan heard Emanna yell, “Mama!” Anandropped the steel wool in the sink, and she ran to the living room with a smileplastered to her face. Emanna had finally spoken her first word! She skidded toa stop in the living room as her mother stood in the doorway of her bedroom,her shirt off and vomit running down her bare chest. Her eyes were swollen andpuffy. A needle hung from her arm, and her black hair hung down over her face,tangled and speckled with more bits of vomit.
Emanna didn’t know better, so she ran to hug her mother.Anan did the same. Anan never had to wash another dish again.
Chapter 40: On the Road
Dustin's studio apartment wasn't much to look at. It wasgood enough for him. The rent was cheap, it was fine for a one-night fling, andhe was on the top floor, so he didn't have to hear his neighbors for the mostpart. The one exception was the guy next door, a recovering alcoholic who spentmore time drinking than recovering.
As he stepped from the apartment's cramped bathroom, hetoweled himself off. Not even the scalding hot water of the shower could makehim feel clean after everything he had seen that night.
The woman was asleep on his couch, which also served ashis bed. She had said her name was Suzy before she curled up on his couch anddrifted off to sleep. He didn't mind. It gave him a chance to freshen up andget his mind straight.
The random crack of gunfire in the morning also had ahand in helping him figure things out. After sliding on a clean, white T-shirt,Dustin padded across the living room to turn the TV on. He sat down in theapartment's only chair with the remote in his hand. What he saw only served tosteel
