Mama I Love You |
1 | Mama I Love You by William Saroyan I wrote this story for Lucy Saroyan herself – with love. 1. Good-by, Macaroni Lane Mama girl came out of the bath with just the stuff on to hide a big girl a little and she said, "What time is it now?" "Eight," I said. "Ten minutes to?" "No, just eight." "Which clock?" "All clocks. It's eight and you're late, but have you ever been on time?". |
2 | "I wasn't late when I had you." "I was the one who wasn't late. You were just there." "I know all about it," Mama Girl said, "and take my word for it, I was the one who wasn't late." "Well, then, neither was I." That's my birth, when Mama Girl and I first met and began to be friends. We've been friends ever since, but we have at least one big fight every day. |
3 | We always make up, though. We live in the same place and go around together, except when it's something for big girls only, and then Mama Girl goes and I stay, sometimes with a sitter, sometimes with Mother Viola, who is the mother of eleven grown-up boys and girls and comes to our house on weekends to cook and clean and look at TV. |
4 | I was waiting for Mama Girl in her bedroom to watch her dress, because she knows how. She is the best dresser I ever saw. Mama Girl is pink all over, she has red hair, and she knows all about dressing. First you take a bath in a tub, then you put powder all over, then you make up, and then you get dressed. |
5 | When you've done everything, you look like a big girl. I could do it myself, but I'm still straight up and down everywhere, and very hard instead of soft. I weigh sixty pounds and Mama Girl weighs a hundred and twenty. Mama Girl is thirty-three, but she gets angry if I say so. "I'm twenty-two, and you know it," she says. |
6 | "If you're twenty-two," I say, "then I'm not born yet, because you were twenty-four then I was born. You said so yourself." "I was lying," Mama Girl says. "I didn't want to tell you I was thirteen when I had you, that's all." "That's a big fat one," I say, and Mama Girl says, "You've seen a lot of women who are thirty-three – well, do I look like them?". |
7 | Well, of course she doesn't. She doesn't look like anybody else, and she herself is different every week, after she gets back from the beauty parlor. Her hair's a different color every time, and her fingernails have a different polish. Mama Girl has more kinds of lipstick and powder and other stuff like that than any other woman in the world. |
8 | Mama Girl lighted a Parliament and sat on her bed with the red velvet spread on it. She looked at me and smiled and inhaled and exhaled, and then just sat there. "You better hurry," I said. "No, I'm an hour late already. It'll take me half an hour to drive there, so I might as well take my time and be real late instead of a little." "O.K.". |
9 | "What's Mother Viola cooked for your supper?" "She's not here." "Where is she?" "I don't know. She hasn't come yet." "Oh, no!" Mama Girl said. "She can't do that! She knows I'm counting on her. I told her to be sure and be here at seven sharp. I thought she came in while I was in the bath." "She didn't.". |
10 | "Well, who was that you were talking to?" "Deb." "Mrs. Schlomb's girl?" "Deborah Schlomb." "Since when do you two speak together like adults?" "Do we speak like adults?" "Yes. I thought you were speaking to Mother Viola. Now, I've got to find out what's the matter. Why isn't she here?". |
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