Mother's Doctrine

Mother’s Doctrine

                From the dinner table Lemon looked at her mother washing the plates.  Lemon thought about how hard her mother was working today and she didn’t like to watch her work hard.  Every time Lemon offered to help, her mother would tell her to get out of the way.  But she wanted to help her in any way even if her mother rejected it.  Her mother was different during Sunday, especially as the time for going to church neared.  But during the weekdays, she was normal and lazy, procrastinating whenever she received orders from Lemon’s dad.  Sunday was the height of her days.  It was a family day.   

            Lemon then looked at her brother, Camache.  Camache was two years younger than Lemon.  He was having a hard time losing weight.  While they ate, Lemon told Camache to not eat so much. 

“You’ll get fat,” she said. “And the doctor said it wasn’t good for you.”  She memorized her mother’s every word.  Camache was eating a greasy pizza.

“But I’m hungry.”  He grabbed more hot Cheetos.  Lemon ate some too.  They were the chips that held them together in a bonding moment for a small while even during their sibling wars, until Camache takes the bag of Cheetos to his room and refuses to share them with Lemon, or when Lemon tells him that he has had enough and was not allowed to eat any more or else she was going to tell mom.  A battle would erupt with the mother taking the Cheetos away from Camache or Lemon getting slapped and pushed to the wall, and if Lemon ended up crying then Camache would win the battle because Lemon was too afraid to go up to her mother with tears in her eyes; she was afraid to get into more trouble because crying would make her mother erupt and they would both end up being punished.   

“Hurry up,” their mother said.  “We need to get ready for church later.”

            Camache’s friend was seated at the dinner table.  They were all sharing a box of pizza, and Camache’s hand hovered near the pizza box, looking to see if his mother was noticing.  Lemon stared at him, which caused Camache to retreat his hand.  Nobody said anything as they ate their pizza.  Lemon continued to stare at her mother, neglecting her food.  Lemon’s mother was still washing the plates, not bothering to dry them.  She put them on the sink while muttering something to herself.  Lemon hoped for the day that she would wash the plates and mutter alongside her.        

Camache’s friend ate his pizza, his gaze landing on the boredom of the wall paper design.  Camache looked at the pizza box, and sighted.  Lemon looked at the floor, and then at her mother, and later down at the floor again.  The only sound that could be heard were dishes clashing against other dishes, with Lemon’s mother continuing to mutter to herself more loudly this time.  Camache’s worried humming started until he broke the silence with a question.

“So,” Camache faced his friend, “Do you know who Lime is?”

            Lemon looked at Camache as if he were insane.  She wanted to kick him from under the table, but Camache was far away from her.  Lemon knew who Lime was, and Camache had a faint idea about her.  Between Lemon and her mother, Camache should know as little as possible about anything.  Lime was a girl they weren’t allowed to talk or think about.  That was all they needed to know.  And if Lime ever came near Lemon’s family, everything would be ruined and their lives would be shattered.  Their dad would go back to being a violent drunk.  Lemon despised Lime and would hope that they never met in this lifetime.  Her mother’s warnings are never wrong.  When Lemon’s mother heard Camache, she dropped the dishes and rushed towards Camache.  She grabbed his arm and pulled him up quickly.

“Let’s go Camache. It’s time for your bath,” she said. 

“But mama, I’m not finished eating,” Camache whined while looking at his half eaten pizza. 

“You have already eaten enough,” she said.  She yanked his arm and forced him upstairs.  “And the doctor said it wasn’t good for you.”

            Camache’s friend was confused.  He turned to see Lemon who was wolfing down her food now.  Lemon told Camache’s friend to hurry and finish so they can play outside.  She told him that Camache would meet them outside.  They heard the water from the bath running. 

When Lemon was about to take her plate to the sink, they both heard Camache screaming upstairs.  His wails caused both his friend and Lemon to stay frozen at the dinner table.  Camache’s friend looked at Lemon with a raised eyebrow.

“He cries when-“ Lemon was interrupted by more of Camache’s wails. “He gets scared and cries when you are not around.”  She gave a smile that slumped back into a serious line in her face; her eyes kept staring in the ground.

“Ok.”

“Let’s go outside.”

“Ok.” They didn’t say anything after that nor did they go outside.  They continued to hear Camache’s wails for a while longer.  They heard the water shut and the house came back to silence.  Lemon stared at the carpet.  She must have dropped food because she saw a piece of sausage on the carpet floor.  Cheese surrounded the sausage ball, with the red sauce giving it color and spreading around the mess.