Why mom let daddy drive us to the wood that day I never knew. She kinda distracted, hurting from bone-cancer and a tragic love-life she part-own; the kitchen table’s full of bills and mom sat typing in the calculator with one finger, holding one o them fake cigarettes, robe round shoulder, hair falling down over blood-shot eyes, squinting with e-smoke like the former hotty she claim.
When daddy beep the horn I think she thought he home for good. She smile, put out her e-smoke, look at me and Moll: then her eyes change, reality came back and bitch-slap her butt and she stand, robe falling open and dirty Snoopy nighty beneath that she wore in hospital pictures holding baby Molly twelve year back.
Mom clears her throat to get out the taste of electrons.
“I’ll get your jackets. Tell your father I want you home by nightfall.”