Computer Games

Computer Games

I jump off the yellow school bus. It’s been a good day, I think to myself. As I run across the neighbors' lawn, I feel the crisp fall air blowing through my hair.
That workout—8 x 400s in 62 to 64 seconds with just 60 seconds rest between laps—impressed Coach C.
I hear his voice again: “You’re getting stronger every day Phil. You’ll crack 4:20 in the mile this year for sure.” I swell to hear it and am filled with pride and hope.

I round the corner and bound up the back stairs. I feel strong, powerful.

The smoke hits first.
Like a one-two punch to the face, the beer stench pummels me next.
“Fuck”, I say to myself. “She’s been at it again.”

Beer cans are everywhere.
“Fuck!” It’s worse than I thought.

I ease the door open and step inside.
She spins from the stove, almost falling over.
“Hey there, kiddo,” she slurs. “Good day on the track, huh?
“You’re not the only one workin’ out—I’ve been doin' jumpin’ jacks all day. Wanna see?”

“No. No, Ma, that’s okay. Maybe later.”

“Aw, come on. Look!”, she says.
She starts jumping—arms flapping like a busted windmill.
“See?” she beams. “Still got it. Right? Come on, jump with me.”

“Um, no thanks, Mom. ”I sigh.

Resigned, I sit down. She plops the plate in front of me.

“Well done, just the way ya’ likes it. Right?”

“Yeah. Ma. Thanks.” I say. My stomach rumbling, I dig in.
To distract her, I turn on the TV.

“The war in Iran continues today…”, says the anchor.

“Hows the burger?” She asks?

“Mom, this is delicious; the fries too. Thanks.” I say with heart felt appreciation.

“Hey, thas’ whad mudders are fur, kiddo. I loves ya.” "You knoz that?”
She leans in for a hug. I stiffen and pull back. The beer breath turns my stomach.

“Whaz’ the madder, kiddo? Don’ love your mums no more? Come on.”

OK. I hold my breath.

She squeezes too tightly.
“See? Thad wasn’t so bad. Coulda’ been worse. Coulda’ had no mom at all.”

That knocks the wind out of me. How many times had I wished for that? How many times had I wished I’d never been born at all?

Pow! Pow! Kaboom! Craters and blown out building litter the screen.

“See?” she says. “Coulda been us. Coulda been in a war.
“See how good ya got it?”

“Yeah, ma. We got it good.”

“Damn right. Don' cha’ forgets it.
Roof over your head, food on the table. That’s home.”

Some home. Feels more like a mad house to me.

“Yeah, ma.”, I say.

I push the plate away and pull out a deck of cards to play solitaire.

She takes my plate to make space. As she looks over she shoulder, while walking away, she says; “Hey, kiddo—don’t think I don know what cha’ ya’ doin’.”

“What? What are you talking about?”
Instant regret.

“Oh, those cards; the TV. You think I don’t see it?
Those cards are all coded and the TV’s a two-way transmitter.

I see ya’ playin’ games boyo’.”

“It’s solitaire. mom. That’s all.” I say.

She comes over and scatters the cards across the table.

“How ya’ likes that?” she laughs.

Cards scatter across the table as I yell, I give up!

I bolt up the stairs and slam the door behind me.

I jump under the covers and feel safe from her games...until tomorrow.