"--It's been two months now and Poppy plays "Moon River" over and over on the piano he got. He never cries for our dead Mama in front of the three of us. Poppy sings aloud: "Old dreammaker, you heartbreaker, wherever you're going, I'm going your way." He makes me afraid.
I know where he wants to go.
I know who the dreammaker is.
Blu's eating again. He's gained a ton of weight since Mama died. So much fat that his nipples go in and look like two sad brown eyes pulling down on his fleshy breasts.
"You goddamn kid." Blu gets slapped across the head. Poppy sighs deeply, but he doesn't stop. "I sick and tired of hearing you pickin' on Maisie, fighting, fighting, fighting, and I swear, Blu, one of these days, you going make me lose it." He puts his face in his hands.
"Teach your damn bradda to keep his hands to himself, Ivah," says Poppy, frustrated. "Why you no can step in and help out, shit? You cannot even teach your goddamn bradda some basic kindness."
It's not fair. Poppy isn't around to see Blu carrying Maisie's bag in the morning and later home from school.
Poppy doesn't see Blu walking with his head up high to the Special Ed building to take Maisie to her new class every morning.
Doesn't see Blu waving at her in the cafeteria.
Doesn't see Blu waiting there after school and all of his stupid classmates calling him the brother of the mental girl.
Doesn't see Blu spending his ironing money on Maisie for Violet Crumbles at Pascua Store.
Doesn't see.
Doesn't see.
"So you get meaty hands, eh, Blu? Wait till you feel my meaty hands upside your head." Poppy stares at the TV, tired eyes, but I swear, he's not watching it at all. Poppy went from sad to mad. I mean really mad. Every day. All day. Some days, nothing I do is right.
Black cats cure sadness; we're too late. Over and over, Poppy picks on Blu. I don't say anything or Poppy might turn his mad eyes at me for cooking cream of mushroom on rice for the third day in a row. "Blu," Poppy starts at dinner, "what I said about eating so damn much? You get stink ear or what? I no like you be one fat shit, you hear me, Blu? You no shame or what?" Poppy hesitates, as if he wants to stop himself from being so mean. But he's in this far, and he can't back down. "Try look around this table--nobody one fat shit here, eh?"
Poor Blu, eating away all the sadness until he's so full that he feels numb and sleepy. Plate after plate of hot rice--it's what there's plenty of at dinnertime. Eating all his school lunch and wanting more. Warm food and chocolate bars until his stomach hurts and his eyes glaze over. Just so he doesn't feel Mama gone so far away. --"
I can't say how many times this book made me cringe, cry, or lose the strength and courage to turn to the next page. Ivah, Blu and Maisie are over 10 years younger than I am, but have gone through perhaps more than I ever will in my lifetime. Ivah, the oldest, is trying to take care of her younger brother Blu and their semi-mute sister, Maisie. They are trying so hard to stick together. Every single one of them working so that they can have some food to eat. Trying to be happy, even though their mom is dead. They have no one to turn to; not even their own father. Poppy is so lost in his own sadness that he doesn't--can't notice their suffering.
"-- "Sorry, Mama," I say for Blu.
"Sorry, Mama," he says, eyes on his dirty feet.
"You better be, Blu."
"
Mama." Maisie looks at her dog.
"Where Blu?" I ask Maise, trying not to sound frantic. "Blu! BLU!" And I run to the side of the house, where I see Blu with his hands full of Violet Crumbles, a $100,000 bar, and a box of Milk Duds. Dollar bills. His pants are below his briefs which are stretched down one hip.
"BLU!" He doesn't even turn to see me. Instead, he backs away with his hands full of chocolate bars and money. Mr. Iwasaki, an old man's stiff penis in his own chocolaty hand, makes slapping sounds, slurping sounds: gray-dry penis skin with a red-tip head, plenty of loose skin, and melted chocolate.
I grab my brother from behind as he tightly clutches the candy and bills. Mr. Iwasaki squeezes his gray rubbery penis and wags it at me. He doesn't speak English. My brother fixes his pants and says, "He gave me three candies for you, me, and Maisie. And the money is for buy soda from Pascua Store."
I have no words for Blu, no words, but I feel it all behind my eyes, burning. A stream of urine comes down my legs as I drag him quickly across the sidewalk. I yank Blu to the front of the house, under the mango tree, and smack him across his head, so hard that the candy and money scatter over the hot road. I run back to the front yard and grab Maisie. The dog smells the pool of urine, the shiny road mapping along my dusty ankles and feet, sticky urine on my rubber slippers, and right there, she pisses and shits, Maise pulling at her rope, under the mango tree. Blu chases the dollar bills down the road.
Mama.--"
If you have nothing else to do, well, even if you do, I would recommend reading this book. It is so touching, so real, you cannot help but keep reading. What happens to Ivah and her brother and sister? How can things ever end happily while there is so much that is wrong? So much perversion in these children's lives. These excerpts are only the beginning of the the hardships that they face. The others are worse. We have all been Maisie at some time in our lives. So full of sadness and fear that we cannot even speak. We can't begin to think of the words to describe what we are feeling, or have the courage to get them out. We have all been Blu at some point. Wanting something so badly that we'll do anything to get it. We want it so bad that we don't stop to see if what we are doing to get to it is right. Sometimes we don't even know that it's wrong. We have all wanted things to go back to normal, knowing full well that they can never be the same. Blu can't bring his Mama back. Holding on to her is only bringing him sadness, which he tries to eat away, with the money he doesn't have. We have all filled ourselves with something to take away our sadness. And lastly, we have all been like Ivah. Watching someone that we love dearly fall farther and farther away from our help, but not knowing or being able to do anything about it. Feeling as though there is no one to show us the right way. Having great responsibility put on our small, inexperienced shoulders. So, my advice is to read the book. You just might walk away feeling different about your life; whether for better or for worse is up to you.
