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Trash

Emily Fontenot

    I drove home and back to Lafayette after my last day of the summer semester. I had to pick up Matt who was low on cash and couldn’t afford the gas. I needed a friend—I did for a while—to facilitate my rebellion.
    I got my nose pierced then went to Port Barre to hang out with church friends. I’d hoped we would go late, and we did. I got to come home to a sleeping house. My face was safe for the night. I could enjoy it for a while.
    I had to clean the piercing though—probably should have hours earlier but it never got infected so no harm, no foul. I got out Mom’s gumbo mug—the green one Gunner painted “I ? Mom” on in gold at church—filled it with hot water and salt, then shoved my face in it, making sure my right nostril was submerged. Watching the clock. Making bubbles. Giggling at myself.
    I heard y’all’s bedroom door open, kitchen side, my left. The free side of my face lit by the oven hood light.
    “Hey, baby,” Mom whispered groggily. I lifted my face from the mug and smiled in profile. “Did you have fun?”
    “Yeah, we did.”
    “Good. I’m going back to bed, little one. I just wanted to tell you goodnight.” She paused for a second. “Gimme hug.” And I did, awkwardly, keeping the right side of my face from her. If she noticed that or the mug of saltwater, she didn’t mention it. She must not have wiped the sleep from her eyes.
    The next morning I woke up and smiled in the mirror at the tiny glint of the stud. Then I breathed and navigated the kitchen, all odd angles and half glances as I passed Mom on my way to the coffee pot.
    Andy was in my usual spot so I had to take the seat on the couch that would put my right nostril on display for everyone to see. Andy noticed first. Little snitch. She had noticed my tattoo first too. “Is that—are you serious? How trashy.” She was never one for subtlety. I glared at her over my coffee.
    “What?” Mom called from the kitchen, and seeing the standoff going on between us, looked to me and said, “Emily Reece. What did you do?”
    I slipped on my best, most innocent and awkward smile and tilted the right side of my face toward her. “I got my nose pierced.”
    I half expected her to walk over, grab my chin, and inspect it, like in the movies, but she didn’t. She just sighed. “I hope you’ve thought about this. Can you even have that for work?”
    “I can take it out if I need to.”
    “Yeah and when you decide you don’t want it anymore, it’s gonna look like a big blackhead on your face for the rest of your life,” Andy chimed in.
    “Look. Who cares? I like it. I’ve wanted one for a long time.”
    “You know what? Fine.” Mom threw the dish towel down. “But you have to tell your dad.”
    I looked her in the eyes and said okay much more confidently than I felt. Andy snickered in my chair.

    I possess this quality called subtlety. Timing and grace are things that I obviously didn’t learn from my mom. As soon as you walked, she cocked her head at me, expectantly. I motioned a quick “chill,” but she was going to wait me out.
    You noticed the tension, which is really saying something, considering. “What?” you asked Mom.
    “Ask Emily what she did last night.” Arms crossed. Eyes never taken from mine.
    You turned to me.
    “Well?”
    I broke from Mom’s stare. I was scared my voice would crack if I tried to say it, so I tilted my face again, Vanna Whited my nose, and smiled.
    You did that thing where you lean closer and squint as if you could see any better while you were still across the room from me. “What’s that?” you asked.
    “She got her nose pierced,” Mom answered for me—a small victory. Patience is a virtue.
    “It’s so trashy,” Andy added.
    You straightened. “I think it’s cute. You know it’s in fashion now. A lot of girls around the office have them. I like it.” As you said all this, you had noticed the TV, the Kardashians a regular Saturday morning feature, and crossed the room to your chair. You held out your hand to Andy for the remote. “Gimme dat. There’s got to be something better to watch.”

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