MaryJo Talks Too Loud
And she always just pops in
I’m hiding in my bedroom. I always do when she drops by. My mother just can’t say no, and I know she’s cringing behind a smile and trilly laugh at this very moment.
“Betty Jean!”
Her high-pitched voice echoes through the house. It’s a scream hiding on the tip of her tongue. I swear MaryJo can’t hear herself talking. Maybe she’s hard of hearing? I don’t know. But her voice is loud and piercing.
I can see her now, walking through the door, balancing an overflowing purse, a couple of shopping bags, and a cigarette. She smells of smoke and overly floral perfume. The kind that makes you think of your grandma.
Through the walls of our apartment, I hear a steady stream of noise as MaryJo gabs on and on, cigarette after cigarette, cup after cup of coffee.
I keep away, desperately afraid of getting sucked into the MaryJo vortex.
I mean, this is a nothing thing, but it’s still a train wreck. A simple kind of train wreck. But a train wreck all the same. If you know what I mean.
“Where’s Carrie?” suddenly blasts through the walls, drowning out my record player.
“Carrie! It’s your auntie MaryJo!”
Oh, no.
“Carrie…” My mother totally can’t stand up for herself.
I thought I escaped it. I should’ve known better. Maybe I can try to ignore her? As if I didn’t hear a word. Plus, I’m totally hooked on my latch hook kit. Get it? Totally hooked?
I swear my mother just wants company for her misery. Please stay away, please stay away, please…
“Carrie!”
Nothing meek about that. Darn it. I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear it.
“Coming!”
Ugh. I’ll be right back.
Back!
Yeah, that stunk as much as I knew it would.
“Carrie! Betty Jean tells me you just started band. What instrument are you playing?”
“Clarinet,” I said.
“Oh, how nice! Well, come here! Come give Aunt MaryJo a hug. You’ve gotten so big. I swear I don’t know where the times go. It was just yesterday when you and the girls were little.”
I asked her how my cousins were doing.
“Oh, you know. They are heavy into their skiing. They say Michelle could make the Olympics one day.” And then she took a big drag of her cigarette.
So, that’s cool. If it’s true, that is. Aunt MaryJo is known for her gift of exaggeration. She asked where my brother was, and oh my God — get this — she asked if I had a boyfriend. Like I’d say in front of my mom, even if I did! Which I don’t. I do like someone, but that’s not important.
Okay. I can’t help it. His name is Matt and he is so cute! He has blue eyes and braces! Crystal in my class likes him too, which is so Crystal. I swear she only likes him because I do and oh my God, I can still hear MaryJo yapping away. My mom must be dying. I can’t hear myself think and I’m in my room.
But anyway. Hold on. Again.
“What!? No, come on. I don’t want to. She came here to visit you. Why should I whisper? Just tell her you have something to do. Somewhere to go. I don’t know, make something up. Jeeze.”
“Mom, no! Come on. It’s not fair!”
Ugh.
I guess I should get out there to talk to cough-cough-choke-choke MaryJo. Mom owes me for this.
Awesome ! Is that you providing the voice?