4 Replies to “9.2.2013 Journal Prompt”

  1. We was to call him Da. Only, he wasn’t. Da is shorter and he smells of beer and cigarettes and he lives in a house up at Brewer’s Yard. He left us a while back, our real Da. He just upped and went. Didn’t even pack no bags. Left his whole life behind him and the place was a deal quieter after he left. Mammie’s words were softer than I ever knowed they could be and she laughed through the tears and she said as we’d be ok on us own, really we would.

    I miss him some night, the man up at Brewer’s Yard, the man who don’t get to be called Da no more on account of Mammie’s got somebody else in her bed now. I miss the stories he used to tell me and Judy, stories of beanstalks that climbed up to the sky where giants lived in cloud castles, and stories of children lost in the forest where witches live in sugarloaf houses. And he told ‘em with the lights out and us in us beds with the curtains open; and the moon was listening, I swears it was.

    But now we has got to call this other man Da. He’s tall as giants and he smells of cologne and he says we is real pretty girls and that’s cos we takes after our Mammie. And all his words are sticky like syrup and too sweet. And he’s always kissing Mammie and touching her diddies under her dress, even when she says he can’t do that in front of us. And once, he touched me there, too, and he said I’d have diddies one day and he kissed me with wet lips and he stroked my hair.

    I told Mammie I didn’t want to call him Da. I told her the word felt wrong in my mouth when I said it to him. I said how he wasn’t my Da, not really, and that I already had a Da. I said as how I thought one Da was enough for any girl and didn’t she think so.

    Mammie said that this new man made her happy as clams and she said she thought she deserved a little happy in her life and she took my hand and pulled me to my feet and she danced me through the whole of the house and she was singing. I never heared her sing before, and Judy saw us and she looked like she was seeing the splashed-with-water witch in the Wizard of Oz and the witch shrinking to nothing but a pile of old clothes and we neither of us could believe us eyes.

    So, for my Mammie, I calls him Da, and I poses for they’s pictures, like we is a family, and I sleeps in Judy’s bed most nights with the door closed and the key turned in the lock. And I tells Judy stories, ones our real Da told us so she don’t ever forget him. And when we is both of us old enough, we’ll maybe take a trip up to Brewer’s Yard and he’ll see how we has grown and cos he’s a real Da he’ll not ever touch our diddies when no one’s looking.

  2. Oh, Judith, thanks. I am glad that it feels real and am sorry that this sort of thing can ever BE real. Thanks for reading this.

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