Double Dribbling II
Mickey and I see my Aunt Kelley and her clingy exercise shorts push the stroller towards the exit sign. How long do I stand there in the aisle and stare at monster masks and wigs in almost every color before she realizes I am not following behind? It stings that I even have to meet her frustrated and bloodshot eyes, that I am just another of her problems, a talking one.
“I need one too, for school,” I say. Aunt Kelley hands me fifty dollars. “Be outside in five minutes,” she says.
“I hope you spent all her money,” Mickey says.
“Every dime.”
“Want to go to the prom with me?” Mickey asks.
“Yes,” Big Sister says. “I would love to go to the prom with you.” And she loops her arms through Mickey’s and points to another mustard mess on the counter. She doesn’t seem like an imaginary friend right now.
“I saw him first,” I say. It comes out like a hiss.
“You’re already going?” Mickey asks. “Who with?”
“That came out all wrong.” I say. “I’d love to go.”
“I need one too, for school,” I say. Aunt Kelley hands me fifty dollars. “Be outside in five minutes,” she says.
“I hope you spent all her money,” Mickey says.
“Every dime.”
“Want to go to the prom with me?” Mickey asks.
“Yes,” Big Sister says. “I would love to go to the prom with you.” And she loops her arms through Mickey’s and points to another mustard mess on the counter. She doesn’t seem like an imaginary friend right now.
“I saw him first,” I say. It comes out like a hiss.
“You’re already going?” Mickey asks. “Who with?”
“That came out all wrong.” I say. “I’d love to go.”
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