He thinks that I don’t know, but I do. I have always known—I’ve just been too weak to act on it. It started when we first started living together. I bought a cockatoo for some comfort in our large but cozy duplex in New York. As days went by, the bird grew more distant; she would flinch when I would try to let her out of the cage, and after two weeks she stopped whistling altogether. One morning, I awoke to find her lying on the side of the cage, her eye bleeding.
“What happened?” I asked Al, darting to the phone book in search of the veterinarian’s number, fingers fumbling over the tissue thin pages.
“How the hell should I know? I’ve been watching T.V. all morning. And besides, you were the one to let her out last.”
Things got worse when he had our first child, Julianna. I was holding two-year old Julianna on my hip, phone attached to my ear, and working in front of the stove when it happened. Al was with me, helping me mix the baking soda into the red velvet cake and manning the stove. I turned around for a second, and Julianna let out a gut wrenching cry; I dropped the phone, and with it, the confidence in my mothering abilities.
“Christ! How can you not be watching her around the stove?” Al yelled over the piercing scream of our child.
But for days after that, Julianna wouldn’t go near her father. She ran to her room whenever I mentioned the name “Daddy” and cringed when he walked in the door.
So, I’ve made up mind. It has to be done. Steeling myself, I take that walk to the big house.
*The lines taken from Gloria Anzaldua's Borderlands that were the inspiration for this piece are: "It has to be done./Steeling myself/I take that walk to the big house" (127).
“What happened?” I asked Al, darting to the phone book in search of the veterinarian’s number, fingers fumbling over the tissue thin pages.
“How the hell should I know? I’ve been watching T.V. all morning. And besides, you were the one to let her out last.”
Things got worse when he had our first child, Julianna. I was holding two-year old Julianna on my hip, phone attached to my ear, and working in front of the stove when it happened. Al was with me, helping me mix the baking soda into the red velvet cake and manning the stove. I turned around for a second, and Julianna let out a gut wrenching cry; I dropped the phone, and with it, the confidence in my mothering abilities.
“Christ! How can you not be watching her around the stove?” Al yelled over the piercing scream of our child.
But for days after that, Julianna wouldn’t go near her father. She ran to her room whenever I mentioned the name “Daddy” and cringed when he walked in the door.
So, I’ve made up mind. It has to be done. Steeling myself, I take that walk to the big house.
*The lines taken from Gloria Anzaldua's Borderlands that were the inspiration for this piece are: "It has to be done./Steeling myself/I take that walk to the big house" (127).