Titus

Again, acting as Bonnie's agent, I publish for her on the blog.  She begins ...

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I am sitting on the toilet; the toilet has the lid seat down.

I have the Bible in my hand.

I am anxious.

I am preparing for Sunday School.

I am to have memorized the names of the books in the Bible.

My mother, busy mother, is helping me, but she is multi-tasking.

She is in the tub.

The smell is of the blue Alpha-Keri liquid she pours in the tub.

The oil to make her skin soft permeates the air, and the steam from the almost boiling water she chooses for her bath has clouded the mirror; I feel pressure in my lungs that I later will also feel in a sauna. 

I pause. 

I have been reading the list quickly, but I pause and cannot bring myself to read the next word. 

She looks up from the cloth that she is using to squeeze water from,  letting it lay on the skin of  her face and body sometimes, and she says, “Speak.” 

I have been debating on how to pronounce this word. 

I say so quickly, silently praying the word will dissolve into the humidity, leaving no trace, no memory. 

Instead the word takes shape.

It arrives in the space between mother and daughter, a single syllable suspended in time and space.

She erupts with laughter saying, “You mean like these?" pointing to her breasts. 

I am tearing up from the shame, the embarrassment of reading this word aloud. 

I look away unable to speak. 

Her laughter subsides. Her calm voice reaches out. "Let me help me.  It is a tricky word. It's pronounced 'tight-us'."

Bonnie