Traditions No More

Spaghetti noodles dot the night sky. They’re writhing like tentacles. Reaching toward me. I can hear them too. They’re loud. Way too loud to be normal. Squishing in and out. In and out. In and out. 

And the moon’s laughing at me. Its eyes of cheese stares right through me, mocking my very heart and soul. The stars aren’t there. Somewhere in my mind, I know they’re supposed to be there, but they aren’t. No giant balls of gas tonight. Well, hold on, what’s that smell of sweet potato chips mixed with bad breath? Oh, yeah. Whoops. 

By now, my ears are ringing. Someone’s calling me. The telephone’s ringing. In the back of my head, I can feel the worm gnawing there, and it’s whispering, “You don’t got a telephone. There ain’t no telephone anywhere near you.” But I can’t fully listen to that voice. I’m too distracted by everything else. 

Like the demon pigs flying through in the sky. Breathing fire down onto the city below even though we live out in the country. Their bodies are blurs of black and red, constantly moving. Like the telephone, their squeals echo inside me. 

Then a baby’s cry cuts through the air, piercing through everything and making the night silent. I turn and see a crib rocking violently back and forth. The baby has started screaming at the top of its lungs, overcome with terror. 

I hurry to the crib and reach my hand into it to soothe the baby. I immediately draw my hand back in horror. The thing inside is nothing more than a giant blob of rotten flesh with stumps sticking out for limbs. Its face has melted into its body, and its grotesque mouth is wide open in agony as it continues to scream. 

I clamp my hands over my ears as I start rocking back and forth. But the screaming only gets louder to the point where I can feel blood running down and spilling to the ground below. I can feel the color of the blood, too. It’s purple with traces of silver, the colors of agony.

Finally, I give in and I start screaming. Soon my screams mix with that of the baby’s and -

I sat up abruptly, drenched in cold sweat. I raked my trembling fingers through my hopelessly tangled and greasy curls. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. Let it out. I opened my eyes the instant I heard the sweet babblings that could only come from one source. 

I tumbled out of bed and slipped my slippers on before quietly creeping through the house and toward the kids’ bedroom. I peeked my head into the doorway and saw Kit sitting upright in her crib, babbling to herself in a language only she could understand. She was staring intently at her toy robot, experimenting with each and every button. I turned my attention to the young man sprawled on the ground littered with blankets and pillows, dead to the world save for his loud snoring. Sweet little Umed, refusing to leave his baby sister’s side. I noticed a row of pillows lining the edges of Kit’s crib, and I smiled. Ever the protective older brother. I loved how close they were, even though they weren’t related by blood, and it warmed my heart even more. 

At some point, Kit must have noticed my presence because she looked up from her toy and shouted, “Mum!” 

I stepped into full view, and a grin spread across her face. She held the robot up to her ear, as if it was a telephone. “Hewwo?” 

I brought my hand to my ear, pretending it was a phone. “Hello? Hello, hello?” 

Suddenly, the telephone ringing in my dream forced itself to the forefront of my mind. I shook my head to clear it from my thoughts and picked my baby girl up from her crib. Before leaving the room, I knelt down beside Umed and kissed his forehead. If I didn’t know better, I might’ve said that he’d instantly smiled. 

I shut the door as quietly as possible, and, after making sure all the doors leading to the living were locked and everything not meant for babies out of reach, I let Kit run loose. She immediately walked over to the little stand holding all the toy food and dumped every single drawer within seconds.

I sighed. That was one mess I’d have to clean up later. 

“Ugh, that’s one mess I’ll have to clean up later,” my mother mutters angrily as my brother accidentally knocks over a crate full of crayons. “Honestly, boy, be more careful!” she scolds, her slurred voice just a couple notches away from yelling. 

The three-year-old doesn’t respond. He’s too absorbed in his drawing. Like clockwork, his ignorance of her makes Mama angry, and she swiftly rises to her feet. I do as well and hurry in front of him before she can do anything. She narrows her bloodshot eyes at me, but I don’t move. 

Mama then harrumphs and stalks out of the room. To the bathroom for her special “medicine”, as she’s so fond of telling us. Or maybe to the kitchen to have a few too many Bloody Mary’s down the hatch. Whichever will put her in the fouler mood. 

I hear loud chugging noises accompanied by the occasional gasp for breath  from the kitchen. Bloody Mary’s it is, then. A few seconds later, I hear vomiting. That’s one mess I’ll have to clean up later, I think bitterly.

I returned to reality, the memory gone. Kit was sucking on a tomato (or maybe it was an apple?). She then popped it out of her mouth and offered it to me. I took it and handed it back to her.

“No thank you.”

She nodded and went back to playing, focusing her attention on the tomato. 

Sweet baby, I thought to myself with a smile. 

I got up and stepped over the gate and into the kitchen. 

For a second, I was back in the place I’d called home for eighteen years, with bottles lining the counters and shelves. I was hesitant about opening one of the cabinets, fearful that instead of Kit’s cereal puffs, I’d instead find row after row of Bloody Mary’s. I shook my head and opened the cabinet. Indeed, there were only puffs up there. 

I grabbed them and poured a small pile into my hand before putting them back. I blinked, and they morphed into a pile of tablets, a sight I’d seen so often in the palm of my mother’s hand. I blinked again, and they were gone. 

I sighed and returned to the living room. What the hell was wrong with me? I extended my hand toward Kit and called her name. The first couple times, she didn’t respond. The third time I said her name, she looked up from her toy and smiled. She got up and toddled over to grab several puffs, half of which tumbled out of her hand and to the floor below. She returned to her playing spot, and I picked up the fallen pieces. 

I went back into the kitchen to throw them away, when something caught my eye. I walked over to the fridge and picked up the now faded photo. It was me and my brother. On his graduation. God, that was so long ago. 

I sniff as I wrap the ropes around his neck. Four ropes for a 4.0 GPA. I wipe my eyes as I hug him tightly. “God, I’m so proud of you,” I whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back. 

He glances at the couch, where our mother is snoring, passed out from God knows what substances she’s taken today. “She doesn’t matter,” I tell him urgently, clasping his hands. “This is your big day. And I’m going to be there for every minute of it.” 

We drive to the graduation. I notice he’s breathing heavily. He’s nervous. “I know you’re nervous, bro, but I’m going to be in the front row. All you need to do is see me clapping my heart out for you, and you’ll know I’m here for you. Everything’s gonna be okay.” 

He squeezes my hand tightly. “Thanks,” he says as tears well in his eyes. 

I hug him again. I then grin. “Now make me proud, bro!” 

“I will,” he promises, and from his voice, I can tell he’s determined to keep that vow, no matter what. 

I still wondered if he did end up keeping his promise. After all, it’d been ten years since I last saw him, and I had no idea where he was. I laid my finger on his happy face and tried my damndest to keep the waterworks from coming. 

I glanced at Kit and at Umed, who had woken up by now and was now playing with his baby sister, his face lit up with joy that babies had that magic way of giving. He would’ve loved to see them. I wiped the tears away as I imagined him wrapping them both up into his giant arms and squeezing them tightly as laughter boomed from the three of them, sweet music to my ears I wished with all my heart that I could hear someday. 

“Kathie, is Mama our only family?” my brother asks, confused. 

He is supposed to be working on a class project where he has to draw a family tree up to his grandparents. He only has two leaves on it. 

I hesitate, not knowing which approach would be better, and I decide to tell him, “I know Mama has a brother.” 

“Why don’t we ever see him?” 

“I don’t know. All I know is that they haven’t spoken to each other for over ten years.” 

“Is the same thing gonna happen to us?” he asks, his lip quivering. 

I quickly wrap my arms around him. “Of course, not, buddy. We’re always gonna be together. Always.” 

And now, I had no idea where he was. Whether he was even alive. I suddenly clutched my stomach as I felt the urge. I clenched my jaw, fighting it. Fighting the continuous thoughts about it, wanting it, needing it. Then eventually, it passed, and I sighed in relief. 

I glanced in at the children. There was no way in hell I was going to repeat the same mistakes my mother did. Kit and Umed meant too much to me. I reentered the living room, hugged both my children and kissed their tiny heads, and that’s when I heard a knock at the door. 

“Mum!” Kit cried, reacting to the sudden noise. 

“Mommy, someone’s at the door.” 

I smiled as I ruffled Umed’s hair. “I know, I heard. Thank you, though, honey.” 

I took a deep breath and opened the door. And I immediately stiffened and gaped at the hulking seven-foot figure before me. He swallowed nervously, raking his large, gnarled fingers through his black curls. Then a smile slowly spread across his rugged features as he scooped me into his arms and squeezed me tight. I immediately burst into tears and sobbed into his shoulder.

“Mommy!” I heard Umed cry an instant after I heard running footsteps. 

Umed then started beating his fists against the man before me. “Umed! Umed, honey! I’m alright!” He let me down, and, after wiping my face, I picked up Kit and took Umed’s hand. “Guys, this is…” I stopped and had to swallow before continuing. “This is my little brother. Your uncle Fezzie.” 

Fezzie raised his giant hand up in greeting, and I could tell he was wracked with nervousness. Umed stared up in awe at his towering uncle. “Whoa, I’ve got a giant for an uncle.” A giggle then burst out of him and he jumped up into the air. Fezzie immediately caught him with one arm, and Umed laughed in delight. “I’ve got a giant for an uncle! Wow! Wow! Wow!” 

He then wrapped his arms around Fezzie’s thick neck and squeezed it. I was about to tell him to stop choking his uncle, when laughter boomed from Fezzie’s mouth. Gigantic, thunderous laughter, the kind I’d imagined just moments before. 

“Fezzie…” I began. I had to take a moment to compose myself before holding Kit out before him. “Would you like to hold your baby niece?” 

Fezzie stared at the baby with widened eyes. He then shook his head and hoisted Umed over his head and down onto his shoulders. Umed grinned as he took a couple of handfuls of Fezzie’s curls into his hands. Fezzie winced, but he didn’t seem to mind all too much. He held his arms out, and I saw they were trembling. I gently laid Kit into his arms, and the baby and my brother stared at each other for several moments. Then a smile spread on her face, and Fezzie smiled as well. A tear trickled down his cheek. 

“Your children...they’re so beautiful.” He then started sobbing uncontrollably. “I’m sorry, Kathie,” he sobbed. “I thought it’d be better if I left, but I kept missing you. I kept missing my big sister.” He sniffed. “I never should’ve run away.” 

My eyes softened, and I brushed his curls out of his face like I’d always done before, when we were kids. “Fezzie…” I whispered as I hugged him. “That doesn’t matter now. All that matters is you’re here now. You’re here for your sister…” I grinned at my children. “...and you’re here for your niece and nephew.” 

And I didn’t end up like Mama. In the end, I guessed we both ended up breaking family tradition. And God, was I glad for it. Glad that they were traditions no more.