Mari

When I was five it was made clear to me exactly what my dad is. I was born a scrapper, mom told me that the day I walked into the kitchen after school with a bloody nose, a bleeding fist, and a lip curl that to this day still blesses my mouth.

Up to that point I was just a carefree kid who loved her dad and didn’t see a thing wrong with the garbage truck parked out front or the unholy smell it cast over the entire block.

Until one of those idiots from the Finny family decided to lay it all out for me. My pa, my knight in shining Irish armour worked for the city collecting garbage and that cool chariot I was always so in awe of was a garbage truck and the source of the horrid stink that never went away. They made fun of me something fierce after that and I lost my shine so hard I went to the bathroom and cried until a nun caught me there and scared my soul clean out of my body.

I was embarrassed, horrified and so mad at my dad for making me believe that truck was cool I went home and yelled at him, yelled until all he did was sigh, drop his head and walk out of the room looking defeated.

Ma, she went Lizzie on me then and told me a few home truths about my terrible attitude. Even at five I was ashamed, guilty and remorseful about the way I’d treated my dad.

He’s a proud man. He takes pride in his ability to support his family and he loved his life to that point. Until I made him feel like less. Ma tore a strip out of my hide, both verbally and physically for what I’d said and after crying myself hoarse I snuck into papa’s little work shed out back and hugged him till he hugged me back.

I got it. I understood. The worth of a man or woman is not what you have, but what you are willing to do for those you love. My dad wasn’t a garbage collector, he was the guy who cleaned up the city so those bratty little snots could live in a good neighbourhood.

And he was still my knight, the coolest dad on the planet. After that I would wipe my nose with attitude every time someone made fun of my dad and his foul smelling chariot and then proceed to beat the hell out of anyone who sniffed at me.

I was a demon after that and even with my fear of the nuns, not a day went by that I didn’t show people what would happen if they insult my dad.

By the time the new-year rolled around Ing and I were hanging together with Rox and Ginny, everyone either loved me or feared me. The nuns turned a blind eye because after an episode in the office, with sister Mary Agness breathing flames at me, I wet her carpet but good.

They called me pisser after that and avoided me as much as I avoided them.

But no one made fun of my dad ever again. Not to my face. And that freaking truck still stands outside after four in the afternoon, sending green clouds of reek all over the block.

Hell, I kept that episode with me for so long, I let my dad take me and my date to the prom in it. He laughed himself sick when we picked up the girls and all four of us hung off the side of it, yelling and making a ruckus to announce our arrival.

I love my dad. He’s a big, quiet man with a loud booming laugh, a body big enough that he bends to enter a doorway and so much love he has a heart that I can sometimes hear beating.

“So, I was talking to Marveline the other day and she said she caught Rox creeping into her bedroom window at five in the morning.”

I tune ma’s voice out and sip at the tea Liz made, grimacing at the taste. I won’t mention a thing though because bad tea is better than broken legs any day of the week.

“I swear I do not know what we did wrong in this family with the girls.” Liz sighs and shakes her head.

Ma keeps watching me though, expectantly and I shiver at the gleam in her eye before she looks away and titters into her hand. Something’s been up with these two ever since I walked in and I’d want to know, really, but I have visions of cauldrons and evil going on in their secret circle and my soul already needs help, I can’t afford to get messed up with the devil and his two minions.

Silence reins after that, a thick silence and I turn to ma and Liz with narrowed eyes, my suspicions firing when they meet my gaze with expectant guilt.

“What the heck are you two looking at?” I mumble, my tongue feeling thick and gross.

Christ that tea was probably off or something, I think, sucking at my tongue to get back feeling.

“Mari, Lizzie told me about Grayson-”

“Ech. Don’t wanna talk about him ma.”

Because it’s just wrong to have wet dreams about my worst nightmare. The man is gorgeous. Hot. My masturbation buddy. But he’s not for me thank you very much. I may not have flies about my family or dad’s occupation but no way in hell will I bring that smooth man into this house, the house dubbed Grand Smelling Station and sit down for dinner with dad in his element and ma and her jokes.

That’s just cruel. To me.

He’d probably laugh. Or be embarrassed for me. Or something. And no, I get that Grayson isn’t bad or anything, hell look at the love he has for Lucifer Lizzie, but he isn’t a man I want gracing the Byrd family dinners often. He’d never survive.

“I like him! He’s adorable,” Ma says, pushing my tea closer. “Drink up, Mari, we have a whole day ahead of us.”

I’m starting to feel whoozy, probably from the smell that never quite goes away, I think blearily, and sip my brew under Ma’s watchful eye dutifully.

“Don’t care if you like him.”

Ma huffs and I see Lizzie’s nose scrunch as I curl my lip and huff.

I want to like him too, that’s the problem. I want to let myself like him, but then what? He’s a man slut, pure and simple and I am not into the sex without benefits party like my friends seem to think. I’d want more than just a tickle here and there and he wouldn’t because I know exactly what will happen after he has me.

He’ll walk away. Sure, he’ll have to end up dragging himself away when I break both knee caps, but that’s semantics at this stage. He’d definitely leave in some way and I am not sure I could be okay with that.

Besides, I don’t even care!

I should. If I don’t I’ll end up with Little Joey and his hundred pounds of hair. You don’t know my mama. You think Lizzie is bad? My ma’s worse. She’s sweet and kind. Until she isn’t.

You seen that Transylvania movie with the vampires and the monsters in that hotel? You seen the way that vampire is all normal one minute and Satan evil the next, in the blink of an eye.

That’s Ro one, as we call her sometimes when Ing’s mom Roberta-Ro two-is around. She goes from sweet voiced to frightening in seconds and once, I swear I lost an eyebrow to the heat she was putting off. Or the roar. I still don’t know, I think I lost consciousness for a second. Fear will do that to you.

“Mari, be reasonable. I want grandkids! Cute ones that don’t grunt or look like criminals!” she huffs, making me titter.

The truth is simple. My two rat bastard brothers copulate at an amazing rate. Despite their looks-still don’t know if their wives are half blind or drugged. And they have ten kids between them a piece.

I’m a lover and a fighter and when it comes to my family I love more than fight, but those kids…are ugly. There’s no other way to put it.

One, my niece Glorietta from my brother Will is so nasty looking I heard ma gasp when we went to see her in the hospital. Papa was so shocked he made the sign of the cross before he lied through his teeth and said she was gorgeous.

I thought it was just a phase, that she’d grow out of it but she’s four and still scares the bejesus out of strangers when they see her. The others aren’t any better, hence ma’s constant nagging for me to either get married or ‘please Jesus, just steal a nice looking man’s sperm. I can live down the shame if only I can brag about one grandchild!’.

That coming from ma, who goes to church three times a week, is telling. And ridiculous if she thinks I could do any better. I’m convinced we’re all genetically mutated from the ‘treasures’ dad finds on the dumb and carts home.

The best was by far my bed. Some fool tossed a perfectly good mattress and dad brought it home, grinning like a fool. Of course ma had a fit when a week later my head was being shrunk by the lice sucking me dry.

Don’t worry. Dad cleaned the mattress and ma let me go to school like that an extra day just to give the nuns fits. I laughed so hard when one saw the rat sized bug sucking on a chunk of my brain I wet myself.

But back to the kids. Yeah, I am hot, no use lying about that. I’m the only one in my family with blonde locks. Ma’s a redhead like Liz-Satan’s people all have flaming heads you know-and dad’s got dark hair just like my brothers.

For a while, mostly when I was a teenager, ma kept telling anyone who’d listen that they must have swapped me out at the hospital or something. She even went back and demanded her real child. Huh.

I’m a looker. No denying I’m my daddy’s little girl though because his eyes are my eyes, a dark, sultry blue that makes men weak at the knees.

“Ma, I don’t…” I pause as a wave of giddiness hits me and shake my head to clear the fuzzies.

Wow, I think that tea really was bad.

“I don’t want kids yet. They’re gross,” I mumble, slurring.

Ma glares and for some reason I giggle. Now usually I am sane enough not to because like I said, my ma can go evil at the drop of a hat, but I’m feeling so chill, like cloudy and all good, that I can’t help it.

“B’sides, want him. Can’t have ‘im though. He’d sheee the crazy.”

That is my family! That is the people I come from. My family is so much worse than Ginny’s. I promise. You don’t believe me because you think Lizzie is the worst that can happen, but my ma…she’s pure evil. I swear.

Once, she put a rolled beef in the file cabinet in sister Aggies office. The school smelled awful for weeks. And the cops showed up when an anonymous tip was called in because someone thought the sister had stashed a dead kid in there somewhere.

Bet that nun’s never been felt up like that before.

Ma laughed so hard she started choking on her spit and later confessed the whole thing to papa. That got us all laughing. And for once on top of the family pile, that evil Lizzie seems to run.

For one glorious day we were the top dogs. Until Lizzie got caught smoking pot outside the grocery store behind a dumpster. Ginny still doesn’t know that her mom’s got ‘glaucoma’.

What a freaking crock. I bet Lizzie never told her about the drug prevention programme she attended for two weeks or that Father O’Leery laughed so hard he could be heard outside the church.

Yeah. My family is nuts. And so am I. Because I am just like them and screw anyone who doesn’t appreciate that. Gray can’t possibly appreciate that. He’s a rich by with a good home life. Sure he’s enjoying the fun now, but what happens when he stops wanting to hobnob with the normal folk?

No amount of possibly good looking babies will save my broken heart.

Things go a little fuzzier. I’m not passing out, but I feel like every worry and bad feeling on earth has just disappeared and that…is good. So good in fact that when the mouth diarrhoea starts I can’t do a thing about it.

“He’d be so good in bed ma. Too good. I’d get addicted.”

“Mari Byrd!”

“I saw his Johnson at Effie’s party ma. He’d make kids without even having to put the whole thing in.” I slur.

Ma huffs out a snort and Lizzie’s chortles echo around me, her red eye making me squint and lean closer.

“Ginny says you’re the devil’s bride Liz. You the devil’s bride? I like Grayson. Want Grayson.” I’m babbling, but I can’t stop.

I’m me, but me without the snark filter, and it’s liberating and weird and when the two demons share a look, I know I should be afraid. Feel so good though. And my legs are jelly.

Hmm, wonder if they’re grape or cherry. Probably grape. I like grapes.

“I like jelly. Wanna share my legs?” I chortle.

My neck feels like spaghetti. I wonder if I just relax if my head could stretch all the way to my knees. Yeah. That would be weird.

“Lips are numb.”

I vaguely hear ma give a whoop and then they’re up and wrestling me to my feet as my head drops, my eyeballs glazing up. I space a bit, giggling hysterically as they start ripping off my clothes.

“Don’t sacrifice me to him. Too early to go there.” I mumble.

“Mari shut the hell up! I don’t even know what this girl is saying. You used too much.” Ma barks, slapping Lizzie.

Lizzie slaps her back. Unfortunately that leaves them slapping each other and me without support and I’m airborn in no time.

Sailing, I am sailing.

“Blah, blah, blah, blah, faaaaarawaaaay.” I sing.

Love Rod Stewart. I should go dig up his album in my closet.

Ma shrieks and I hear Lizzie curse when I hit the kitchen chair head first.

Did someone shoot off a gun, I wonder as I hit the ground and start giggling.

“Look what you did! Oh God she’ll bruise and then poor Gray really will think we beat our child! Oh why do I listen to you Lizzie? I should have said no when you came up with this fool idea.” Ma wails, pulling me up with a grunt and a lot of effort.

I manage to regain my footing, wobbling in my heels and try to clear my head. That statement, I should think about that statement, it’s important, I know it is, but I can’t think about anything when they strip me…

“Dear God! Where is your girl hair?” Lizzie moans, looking scandalized.

Oh yeah. I wax my junk. Don’t like hair there. Impedes things.

“Gone Liiiiz. All gone so I can be a meeeeal.”

“Jesus. Save my child. I’ll do anything. Just give me a grandbaby and let her find the path.” Ma moans.

Time passes. Or maybe it doesn’t. Dunno. Everything’s muzzy. But when I look down, I’m dressed in a white, chiffony thing with a puffy skirt. My hair feels like it could be up. Can’t tell. The snakes are slithering on my skin.

“Ooooh, pink sneakers!”

“Damn boy has weird ideas about the wedding photos.”

“Who getting’ m’ried?” I ask.

“You!” Lizzie mutters.

“M’kay.”