"Kit Reed - Mommy Nearest" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reed Kit)

know which of us is young and sexy here, and which is the rack of chicken bones.
But her face crumples up and I don't have the heart.

"Oh, Tammy." I expect her usual, but instead she sighs like she'll never take
another breath. "I didn't ask for this."

"Well I sure as hell didn't ask for you!" Like a high school junior needs a room
with orthotics plus Odor Eaters overflowing her beach shoes and Ensure folded up
in the Depends Adult Undergarments in her beach bag and a secret aluminum walker
that she keeps stashed by her bed.? I mean, having a baby at her age has gotta
be disgusting. Like a thousand-year-old mummy having sex. Right out here in the
open I go, "What were you thinking?"

"Shh," she says. "They'll hear." We are stalled in front of the Caribe Zanzibar.
There are a zillion people on the deck. I am not smiling. Instead I hit her
where she lives. Not to put too fine a point on it, she had me to stay young.
The LaMaze classes must have been a hoot. She says, for the audience, "Oh honey,
I wanted you?

I snap, "Yeah, like you want a face lift that sticks."

"Don't!" She pulls down the Raybans so I will see that she is glaring. But it
isn't quite the same. Things in her face are fighting with other things so the
parts don't match. It is too weird.

I am afraid to ask, Are you okay? so I growl fondly, to buck her up. "You think
you're so fucking cool." Which Evelyn isn't, you know? Especially not now. I am
beginning to itch all over. It's like having one of those things festering
underneath a Band-Aid that you're scared to peel it off and take a look at?

But I do. I step back. I study my too-tired go-out-and-play
don't-bother-me-I'm-resting mother. Except for the ankle bracelet, which does
not go with the antique jeweled Judith Leiber cockroach handbag or the retro
Rave rocket shoes with the toes cut out, she looks all right to me. I snarl, "Go
on, say you wish you'd never had me. Go ahead."

This is phase one of the ritual fight, where we get down and duke it out. Then
we can make up and go home and she will buy me things. First I have to get her
so pissed that she snarls, "I've failed."

Here's how it's supposed to go. She starts with, "On top of everything, you
mined my figure. Breast feeding, it made me flat!" Not! Truth is, you can forget
the silicone implants and the Breastalizers glued inside the top of the bikini.
My room will always look like a transsexual in the middle of the change. Then I
yell and she goes, "You murdered your father, you ungrateful bitch." Which is
not exactly true. He was a hundred when he died but she blames me )"You were too
heavy for him") I personally think it was the shock. Her pooping out a baby at
her age. Besides, who says that was my real dad in the test tube anyway? The
egg, she got from a surrogate baby ranch. Darling, I got knocked up. No wonder
he died.