My Cheesy Valentine

My Bloody Valentine.

“I like Doritos”

Tammy has the Doritos bag balanced in her lap. Robbie settles his boxy butt into the adjacent recliner. Tammy notices him, pretends she doesn’t notice him, and does her best to conceal the bag in between her knees.
“I like Doritos”, Robbie say, slightly hollering.
Tammy markedly keeps her eyes steady on the TV. No blinking.
“I like Doritos. Ch, ch…ch…chips are my favorite. And pizza.”
Tammy moves the bag to the far side of her body, imagining that maybe he can’t see it anymore, maybe he hasn’t see it at all.
“If I had a pepperoni pizza I would give you 2 pieces. May…may… maybe 3.”
Tammy looks up at the ceiling with her mouth open for a long time. It is an effort to seem like she is busy with stuff.
“Doritos dips is when you put Velveeta and Newman’s salsa in a bowl and in the mic’owave.” Nothing. Robbie keeps at it, “Forty makes it b..b..baad.”
`Tammy is starting to get nervous. She concentrates on picking the skin off of the scab on her finger with her teeth. Mona, the caretaker on shift tonight is there immediately, tapping Tammy on the head gently and saying, “Don’t do that Tammy. “
Tammy keeps doing it.
“ You look like Samantha.” Robbie tries a new route. He has been told he is smart that way. “Samantha’s like a princess. If she comes here we are getting married. And having sex.”
This gets Tammy to answer, “Who Samantha?” She doesn’t look over though.
“You don’t know Samantha? Who’s the boss?!”
Now she feels a little powerful “ Stupid! You not know that?” Her head shakes back and for emphasis and her arms rotate wildly above her,” You not know Mona? Or Kevin? You stupidest.”
Mona slips back into the room, “Tammy, we speak to our house-mates with respect. We do not use the word stupid.”
Things remain quiet for about 10 minutes.
“Guacamole is my favorite Doritos?", Robbie says, as though whole bing called stupid thing didn't happen.
Tammy scoots the bags slowly, slowly out of her lap, under her far arm, and then behind her while not letting her eyes blink away from the program. The air gasps from the bag and the she hears the slow, crackling death to V shape of the chips.
Robbie keeps on it, “Cool Ranch is my b..bah..BROTHer Jimmy’s favorite.”
Mona is hovering delicately behind Robby on the couch and she taps his shoulder and wiggles her finger.
“Huh-what?” Robbie looks up.
“I have something for you.” Mona whispers.
“What?”
She exhales a sigh, “Just please come with me, Robbie.”
Robbie follows her to the kitchen and Mona pushes in the silver button on the microwave and pulls out a bowl of gooey orange stuff.
“Here.”
Robbie is unimpressed. “Where’s the chips?”
“Robert, just...take it.”
“Where the chips?” he says more urgently.
“They are coming.” Mona says, exhaustedly.
Robbie walks super, super slowly while carrying the dip.Eventually he makes it to the TV room, circles the front of couch and then sets down the bowl in the center of his wide lap and agitatedly waits for Mona and chips.
Tammys countenance changes rapidly. Robby is no longer the boy who wants her chips, but the boy who brings the cheesy dip.
“I like dip.” she says with perkiness while pulling the Doritos bag from behind her back.

writing about place

Writing about place.
The tinsel on the tree is crispy and touching it makes my teeth hurt. The hooks on the ornaments are rusty and I am prissy about having to touch them when we are putting the red ball ornaments up.
The living room smells like pine tree and coffee and fresh plastic from the new dolls and toys. My brother, Rob, got a BB gun and he wont put it down. My sister, Rachel, got a doll and baby-changing table, which I think we are meant to share, but it’s not clear.
Mom got a fancy, fury, brown coat with a rabbit skin collar, of which she isn’t as happy about as you would think and of which he tells us not to touch.
When you touch the coat you are surprised that it’s not really pleasing, except for the rabbit fur part; this I keep walking my fingers through, making a little roads.
The wood flip top desk smells like lemon oil. I remember it was my turn to dust upstairs and I hadn’t. The multi-shaded green carpet sinks in when you walk on it.
In the morning light there is brightness from the snow that makes my sisters pupils go small to large as she turns away from the glass sliding door.
The hats are from a guy at the gas station my dad runs and he laughed when he handed them out. For a moment there was silliness, then it was gone again. The hats are made out of cans, cut into squares and sewed together with thick, brightly dyed yarn.
I am dressed and washed, but everyone else has their “nightybites” on and their breath still smells of sleep.