First Birthday

Dad brought home a discounted cake and two Tombstone pizzas from Wegman's for Bo Bo's first birthday party . The cake had picture of an elephant holding one giant balloon in his trunk. The pizzas only had cheese on them because Cora's on this big kick about not eating any meat and me and dad not eating any meat, and especially Baby Bo Bo not eating any meat because all the crazy ass shit and lips and stuff the slaughterhouses toss into it. Cora's been watching lots of investigative news reports on the cable we've been stealing from downstairs.

Cora got excited when she saw the cake. She thought Dad was just bringing home the Tombstones. She even gave dad a hug which is rare, rare like Baby Bo Bo getting through a night without waking up.

I held Baby Bo Bo on my lap and tickled his face and his belly while Dad showered and Cora watched the Tombstones cook in the oven. Dad's lady friend from work was going to come over, but she came down with the flu and didn't want to be around a baby with a flu. I asked Cora if she invited anyone she said she didn't even though at the movie theater the other night I heard the girls talking about how she called Sterling for like the first time in months and told him about his boy's birthday.

"That punk won't go," the one girl said to another. "That punk ain't no daddy."

Cora kept watching the Tombstones in the oven until the dinger dinged.

employment

I'm back at home, sleeping in my old bedroom, eating cereal with my dad in the morning, working in the same grocery store deli I worked at when I was in high school, lying to my mom about going on dates, spying on a guy named Randy who waits tables and tends bar at Applebee's.

It's not necessarily a step forward, I know, but it was the only option I had. Teaching jobs are scarce out east, the men I fall in love with turn out to be weak, not to mention asses, and I'm not good with money, or cooking, or teaching, or much of anything, to be honest.

Dad was the one who suggested I come back home.

"Save some money," he said. "Get back on your feet. Build your resume."

Mom was also encouraging, but in a differnet sort of way.

"It will be fun," she said. "We can run errands together. We can exercise."

I've been doing a little bit of tutoring, which is fun. Luckily, though, there is Randy at Applebee's. He works weeknights, and it is usually on those nights, after getting off from the deli, I stop into Applebee's for a drink.

Usually I sit close to Randy and act like I'm ignoring him and that I'm just there enjoying a drink. Sometimes he might make small talk about the weather or whatever is on the televisions that hang everywhere.

The longest conversation we've ever had happened last week when he asked me about work.

I told him all about the deli at Kroger's and then all about how I was a teacher and then how I was tutoring twice a week at the elementary school in Childs, the town west of us. I talking a million miles a minute.

"That's cool," he said. He was standing behind the bar and I was sitting at it. He was rinsing margarita glasses. "I used to work at a deli."

"Wow," I said.

"What's the name of that white cheese without the holes in it?" Randy asked, while rinsing. "It's the one that's at all the sandwich shops."

"Provolone," I said.

"Yeah, provolone. I used to love that stuff."

Randy kept rinsing the margarita glasses and when he was finished he hung them from a rack that hung from a ceiling. He had to stand on his tip toes to get the glasses to hang on the rack. It isn't that Randy is short, he's at least six feet tall, but the rack is hung very high. There is not a chance I could reach it if I tended bar. I would have to jump.

diet

Mother's visit was a disaster. For three days, all she did was complain about my stomach and Oprah Winfrey's hair. All she did was poke at us with her sharp tongue.

Me and Oprah Winfrey did a very good job at not letting Mother get to us even though there were many times when we both wanted to take our claws to Mother's face. I joked to Oprah Winfrey last night in bed that I thought I could do more damage than she could to mother's face because I do have long nails. Oprah Winfrey licked my middle finder, agreeing with me.

"It's everywhere," Mother said I don't know how many times, talking about Oprah Winfrey's hair. "It's in the tub, it's on the computer, it's even in the pots and pans. Don't you ever run a brush through the poor girl's hair?"

Mother would say these kinds of comments from three rooms away. She would shout them through the walls while me and Oprah Winfrey would look at each other and grit our teeth.

"I've been going to a gym," she said one night while we were eating salmon and corn. "Maybe your tummy would like to go to the gym. It's really not that expensive. "

I didn't reply to Mother. Instead I ate my salmon and corn very quickly and went to the couch to watch an episode I taped of Blind Date.

Mother could see the television from where she was sitting at the kitchen table and asked why I wasn't on a date that night, that I should really get out and see people.

Oprah Winfrey jumped up onto the kitchen table after mother made this comment and started hissing at her.

"Michael," my mother said, "Michael, get this cat away from me. Get it away from my salmon."

"She has a name," I replied, pushing mute on the remote control. You can tell her to get down.

My mother tried telling Oprah Winfrey to get off of the kitchen table, but Oprah Winfrey didn't listen. It's hard to make Oprah Winfrey listen when there is fish on the kitchen table.

excerpt

From C. Binton's forthcoming novel, The Bicycle Fire

The cars stormed by; the rain was nothing. We ran with our shirts off with open cans in our hands. Our breath made smoke.

"This doesn't feel like October," Jordan said, breathing heavy. "This doesn't feel like fall."

We were headed toward the lake. Midnight was behind us. The cans in our hands made us want to swim in cold water. A flashlight hung out of my back right pocket. Thoughts of home bounced around in my head. No one was back at home. They hadn't been for some time. No one was coming back home. It would have been impossible. There was no way. There was not a chance. This kept bouncing around. There was no way. There was not a chance.

"I don't feel old," I said, breathing heavy, trailing Jordan. "I don't feel old, no I don't."

Jordan didn't answer me. He turned his head and looked at me from the corners of his eyes.

I laughed and then the flashlight in my back pocket jumped out. When it hit the ground, I stopped. Jordan kept running, but I stopped.

Smoke was rushing out of my mouth.

Baby Bo Bo

Sterling ain't seen Baby Bo but once since he was born and this bugs me big since it is his, and it is a boy, and he talked all while I was big and pregnant how much he hoped it would be a boy and a basketball player and blah blah blah. Cody tells me that Sterling ain't even been going to school since the baby's come out and Rita down on 5th tells me Sterling's been buying from his cousin, Ship, at least twice a week, sometimes three and he ain't been shaving.

When Cody tells me his news I tell him to mind his own damn gay ass business. He says okay and doesn't even sass me back because I know he knows how shit down I am and any dumb old girl could read Cody like I do because he's always offering to change diapers and play with baby Bo Bo any chance he can get. Rita says I should be grateful for Cody because all her younger brother cares about is himself. I don't dare say to Rita that I am grateful for Cody because if he caught wind of that news I'm not sure how big his head would get. He'd probably start floating up off the ground and then I'd have to give him a reality check and knock him in the face and I'm not in the mood to do that kind of stuff right now. I'm not sure what's going on.

pink slip

It was sitting in my mailbox today on top of an end-of-the-year party invitation from the school nurse, Diane. It said that due to budget cuts and lack of community support my position for the 2007/2008 school year would be terminated. It was signed by the superintendent. There was a stain below the signature. It looked like grease from a donut.

I went and showed it to Louis Bedo first. He works in the planning room with the kids that get kicked out of class. We've been seeing each other for the last few months. He has a beard like my Uncle Rick's. It's very wiry.

"That sucks," he said. We were in his small office with his door closed. The only hispanic kid in our school (Carlos) was in also in his small office. He had thrown computer keyboard at another student in study hall and was in Louis Bedo's office for the remainder of the day. "That really sucks."

Louis took the slip out of my hands and read the lines that I had just read. He shook his head and looked at me. He could see that I had tears building up in my eyes. He gave the slip back to me.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I nodded and looked at Louis Bedo and then at Carlos. He was listening to our conversation. There was a scar on his forehead and I wondered if someone had thrown a computer keyboard at his head. I was quiet and kept staring at his scar.

"You got a problem?" Carlos said to me. "What you staring at?"

I looked at Louis and he stood up in between me and Carlos. He saw the first tear fall out of my left eye and he caught it with his left thumb. He tried to get the second one coming out of my right eye, but he was too slow.

"What you even doing in the planning room?" I heard Carlos say in between my sobs. "Are you a student? Are you in trouble?"

Carlos continued talking but stopped listening.

Louis stood between us.

distance

Mother just sent me via e-mail the most wonderful looking recipe for pumpkin bars and spiced rum. I haven't made either yet, but I am sure I will later tonight after I shower and clip Oprah Winfrey's nails.

She has been going at my couch very aggessively the last week or so, Oprah Winfrey. Last night I told her that I think she's upset with me since I've been working late nights and not cooking meals at home nearly as much as I should be. After I said this, I added that it's not much fun having a grump for a roommate. Oprah Winfrey gave me a nasty glare, one I had never seen before, and trotted into our bedroom with her tail raised. We didn't talk for the rest of the night and though I don't like to admit it, I think it was good for us, the distance. I ignored her and she ignored me. We both had alone nights. I spent my time in the shower drinking wine and in my bed eating steamed perogis. Oprah Winfrey spent her time sleeping on top of the VCR.