Foul Shots Part I

Foul Shots

The Whole Place Stinks

“Ready for the tour?” My aunt says.

New place, new stuff stink is everywhere here mixed with the heavy scent of burning vanilla candles.  I wonder how long they have lived here but don’t ask.

I hear my Aunt Ally say the word “new” in speaking about the house.  But I don’t have to hear that word to know it, to smell it, to understand that this house is bigger and better than anything I have ever lived in before.  It seems as if there is still fresh paint on the walls, like the builders have just pulled away.

The whole place reeks of new furniture smell, and all the walls look covered with some shade of vanilla ice cream minus the black spots from the bean.  There seem to be windows everywhere too letting in the brilliant South Florida sunshine, an incredible brightness that bounces off all the plainness.

I hear Grizzly coo, “This is some place.”

And Ally answers back, “It’s got five bedrooms.”

We only had two in California along with a tiny cramped bathroom and that had been fine.  This has a three bathroom look about it, the bigness of it, and the fanciness of the furniture and the way my arms and legs feel clumsy as if I could so easily break something and my aunt would say, “Sorry Grizzly this isn’t going to work out, you and Emily have to go.”  If I stick to the sofa, I won’t have to worry about having a safe place to pee in the middle of the night.

“You wouldn’t believe how you have to watch them.  If they think you’re not looking, they cut corners.  They leave out screws.  Don was too busy golfing to notice.” Ally says.  And I imagine Grizzly’s eyes are hungry and my whitish, bony and fried looking mother tries hard to understand what Ally is even complaining about.

“Emily, do you want to check out your room?” My aunt asks.

I jam the fat pillows on the sofa over my head and muffle my aunt’s whiny notes and all of her shrill sounds.