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1. |
Chapter 1
05:54
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"You gonna want brains in them eggs Momma?" Newt was hollering out the kitchen window and onto the porch.
"You know I do. I always eat my eggs with my brains," the wrinkled woman answered back shortly.
Newt backed away from the window and yanked at the icebox door, rattling the glass jars on the shelves. He pulled out a yellowed plastic container of calves' brains and tossed it onto the counter top next to the stove. The black iron skillet that had not moved from the top of the stove except for the occasional washing was already hot and popping over a blue flame. The butter had just started to brown the edges. He'd already mixed the eggs up in a bowl, putting in just enough cream to keep them soft.
"Did you hear me Newt? I want brains in my eggs." Momma arched her neck over the back of her old wicker rocker, aiming her voice straight into the kitchen.
Newt tightened his jaw, clenching his teeth and went about his morning business. He opened the container with the brains and held it over the eggs. With a cupped hand he scooped out all the brains in the container and with a quick snap let them fly into the eggs. A stir with the fork, and he plopped it into the frying pan. He tossed the empty container without looking into the pile of garbage that had overrun the trashcan. He poked at the brains and eggs, getting the cooked part out of the heat and the runny part into it. He tossed down the spatula, leaving a chunky stream of egg from the pan to the counter top and lit up a cigarette. Newt leaned back against the wall across from the stove and pushed his hands deep inside of his pockets.
"You want them eggs on the porch Momma?" Newt yelled without taking the cigarette out of his mouth.
"You know I do. I always eat my eggs on the porch," Momma said with her neck craned for perfect volume.
Newt pushed himself off the wall and grabbed a plate out of the dish drainer. He turned the burner off and with the stomach of his t-shirt wrapped around his hand, grabbed the skillet and slid the brains and eggs onto the plate. He took a last puff of his cigarette and tossed it into the sink, turning the water on and off quickly. He pulled out a fork and put it on top of the piled plate, picked up his coffee, and headed onto the porch.
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2. |
Chapter 2
02:35
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"Cold out today," Newt said as he handed Momma the plate.
"Don't feel like nothing to me, but I'm an old woman raised in a rougher time."
Newt sat down beside her and pushed his mouth to the edge of the coffee cup, letting the steam soak into his tired face. He was cold and the morning air was white and heavy around the house. The screened in porch offered no protection from the weather. Momma sat wrapped in her quilt, saying an out-loud prayer with the eggs sitting on her lap. Newt watched her from behind the white heat of the steam from his coffee and forced his chills inside.
"You better eat them things before they freeze up.
"Now, Newt you know better than that to interrupt me while I'm prayin'. Amen."
"There, now I'm ready to eat."
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3. |
Chapter 3
02:35
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She looked down at the plate and pulled off the fork, tossing it beside her chair. She raised the plate to her face, pressing it just below her lip and tilting back towards her mouth. The eggs quickly began to disappear into Momma's mouth. Slurping and puckering, rounding her toothless mouth for full effect. Newt pulled the coffee slowly into his mouth, trying to concentrate on the echo of the cup, but couldn't drown out Momma's eating. She reached out over the edge of the plate with her top lip and pulled the food into her sucking mouth. Just as soon as she had gotten it she had finished it; six eggs, some cream and a quarter container of calves' brains gone in a matter of seconds. A routine she was proud to have followed for all her struggling years, she would boast to Newt. She said she even slurped 'em up when she had teeth.
"You finished Momma?" Newt asked looking straight into the grey wooden floor.
"Just about, gotta drink up my juice." She lifted the plate back off her lap and placed it into her mouth, letting the runniness of the eggs slide over her lips and down her throat. A little bit of the juice ran down the side of her cheeks at the corners of her mouth. She held the plate in the front of her without looking at Newt. He stood up and took the plate, holding it flat at his side trailing what little bit of juice Momma hadn't finished over the porch and into the kitchen.
"Momma you gonna want your coffee on the porch?" Newt asked, sliding the plate into the sink and doused it with a quick turn of the faucet.
"You know I do, I always drink my coffee on the porch."
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4. |
Chapter 4
02:36
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Newt rubbed his scarlet ears and they began to tingle in the radiator's stale heat. He cut the flame on under the coffee pot and took his place against the wall, opposite the stove, lit up a smoke and rolled his head to the window across the room. Momma was sitting, singing an old hill song; her breath freezing into white as soon as it hit the air. Newt noticed the bumpiness of her balding head. He tried to get her to cover it up, but she would have none of it.
"If I'm not cold, I'm not wearing a hat." Momma would snap back at Newt's request.
Newt took a long drag on his cigarette and forced the smoke out of his mouth and nose, tossed the smoke in the sink, which hissed when it hit the standing water on the breakfast plate. Newt grabbed the handle of the pot and poured Momma a cup of coffee. He filled his cup and put the pot back on the stove.
"You need anything else Momma?"
"Just my coffee would be nice. I do like it when it's hot."
Newt walked out the door, stopping at Momma's chair with the coffee in an extended hand. She took it and swallowed a big gulp, letting go with a loud "ah" when she finished. Newt sat next to her and rocked gently in his chair, smelling her sour breakfast breath in the porch's stagnate air. The cold bit at his face and ears forcing a bright red rash over them.
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5. |
Chapter 5
03:08
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"I been thinkin' Newt."
"About what?" Newt asked turning his head towards the distant road as the sun peeked over the hills.
"About your Daddy."
"Yeah Momma, I think about him a lot too."
"I would too if I were you. He's a man you should hope to be. He was strong and honest and always took good care of us. I miss havin' someone takin' care of me and talkin' to me."
Newt tossed the last bit of coffee though the screened in porch, leaving a tiny steam cloud in its wake. His rocking pace picked up and he looked down the road through the parting fog. His eyes passed over the sunken dirt road and the pyramid tops of the pines that lined the far side of it, stopping at the new suns' orange haze that grew each morning out of the distant hills. Momma continued to talk, but Newt heard less and less of her until he was alone with his thoughts. He wondered about Daddy and if Momma knew how he had beat him so bad. The thick leather belt Daddy would snap together after a few drinks. The whores he would see Daddy with in town when he would catch the bus home from junior high. The night that Daddy came home drunk and yanked Newt out of bed and took him to a whore to become a man. He'd just turned twelve. How the whore laughed at him and his Daddy made fake crying sounds outside the bedroom door. That sour whiskey smell of Daddy's breath when he came into his room at night. How Momma would wail at Daddy until she would get a punch in the face. The nasty sounds he would hear from their bedroom after Daddy had beat on her. It was funny how Momma had remembered him.
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6. |
Chapter 6
04:11
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"Newt," Momma was hollering, leaning into his face.
"What Momma?" Newt replied staring directly into her face.
"When are you gonna fix that door?"
"What door Momma?"
"The one in front of you boy. Have you lost your sight and your mind? Jesus you're hard on me sometimes."
Newt looked up at the screen door and noticed the top hinge hanging off the frame. He hadn't noticed it in the least when going outside.
"When you gonna fix it? It's been broke since your Daddy passed. He'd a fixed it real quick, not one to dally your Daddy."
Newt squinted his eyes at the hinge and studied it for a minute to look interested for Momma's sake. He noticed the peeled white paint and old grey wood behind it. The screw's rotted out, he thought to himself. No way to fix the hinge without replacing the wood. He let out a deep, cold breath and slouched back into the rocker.
"You're right Momma. It's as good a time as any to fix that thing."
"Goodness gracious. I don't believe what I'm hearing. Well go get the tools and bring 'em out. I'm gonna watch and make sure you do it right."
"Okay Momma."
Newt rocked forward and out of his chair. Momma didn't look at him when he passed to go get the toolbox. She just kept looking up at the door and shaking her head from side to side. Newt went into the hall closet and pushed around a mess of old newspapers before spotting Daddy's old toolbox on the floor. He picked it up by the round wooden handle and pulled it up to him, dragging loose papers into the hallway. He walked into the kitchen and set the box on the table causing a loud steel rattle. Momma looked back in through the window and glared deep into Newt's back.
"Well are you gonna bring those tools onto the porch or are you gonna fix it from in there?"
"I'll be out in a second Momma. I just gotta get Daddy's hammer. I left it in the drawer from when I was fixin' the shelf in here."
"Newt I ain't got all day to sit on this porch. I'm ready to come in and watch my programs."
"I'll be just a second Momma, besides I need you to make sure I'm doin' it right."
"Alright. You always did need help. Didn't you Newt?"
"Yep. I guess I did Momma."
Newt rustled through the drawer and found the old hammer, gripping its faded painted handle and letting it bounce heavily in his hand, feeling its weight.
"Are you about ready to fix this thing?"
"Just about Momma." Newt answered.
"Good. I was just beginning to think you weren't ever gonna do anything about it."
"I'm gonna fix it right now Momma."
Newt stepped onto the porch and raised the hammer behind Momma's chair. He pulled in a deep breath and let his eyes close. His thoughts were lost again, picturing the sun and the hills. Momma's head and her wispy hair reminded him of the hills in the cold morning. He relaxed his body and his eyes rolled blankly open. The hammer slid through his hand and he held it by the steel head, gripping it tightly for an instant before letting it rest loosely in his yellowed hand. He walked in the house and into the kitchen, tossing the hammer into the sink, breaking the breakfast plate into large triangular pieces.
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7. |
Chapter 7
01:12
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"Newt, you found the hammer?" Momma's voice was somewhat less insistent.
"No Momma."
"Boy, just get me in to see my programs."
"Alright Momma, I'll be right there."
Newt lit up a cigarette and walked back onto the porch, helping Momma out of her chair and into the T.V. room.
"Need anything Momma?" Newt asked as he took his seat in the corner chair.
Momma didn't answer. She had fallen deeply into the overstuffed love seat that she often reminded Newt as the place of her first kiss. Newt chewed at his upper lip, looking out into the distance through the water stained window.
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