A Fishy Story
Dawn is breaking. I lie in bed and slowly begin to wake as a weird noise imposes itself upon my brain. It is repetitive. It comes from downstairs. It definitely is not Bea calling my name. Since the noise seems to originate in her room, reluctantly I get up to investigate.
Bea has her eyes wide open. She is repeating over and over something that sounds like Iraq. I cannot make out the exact word, because she seems to have been at this for quite some time and is no longer saying it clearly. Her mouth flaps open and closed, open and closed: “ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA …”
“Mother, what are you doing?”
“Shut up! ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA …”
“What in the world are you doing? Stop!”
“Look around and you’ll see. ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA…”
“Who told you to do this?”
“The guys cooking fish. ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA…”
Bea won’t stop. Her lips are parched. She reminds me of a little kid who has been told to do something silly by bigger kids and doesn’t dare to say no. So, I get in her face, shake her by the arm. She waves me away with an unusual angry gesture.
“ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA..”
“Mother stop!”
“Shut up. ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, Go away. ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA.”
I decide a lecture is needed and think of what I would have said to one of my children had a bully instigated such behavior. “You shouldn’t do what just anyone says …” etc.
“ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA..”
“Want some breakfast?”
“No. ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA. The story isn’t finished. ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA. This is part of the process of cooking fish. ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA …”
“The fish should be cooked by now, don’t you think?"
"ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA …”
"Do stop.”
I go off to fetch her meds. When I return, Bea has fallen asleep.
Bea has her eyes wide open. She is repeating over and over something that sounds like Iraq. I cannot make out the exact word, because she seems to have been at this for quite some time and is no longer saying it clearly. Her mouth flaps open and closed, open and closed: “ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA …”
“Mother, what are you doing?”
“Shut up! ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA …”
“What in the world are you doing? Stop!”
“Look around and you’ll see. ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA…”
“Who told you to do this?”
“The guys cooking fish. ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA…”
Bea won’t stop. Her lips are parched. She reminds me of a little kid who has been told to do something silly by bigger kids and doesn’t dare to say no. So, I get in her face, shake her by the arm. She waves me away with an unusual angry gesture.
“ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA..”
“Mother stop!”
“Shut up. ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, Go away. ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA.”
I decide a lecture is needed and think of what I would have said to one of my children had a bully instigated such behavior. “You shouldn’t do what just anyone says …” etc.
“ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA..”
“Want some breakfast?”
“No. ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA. The story isn’t finished. ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA. This is part of the process of cooking fish. ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA …”
“The fish should be cooked by now, don’t you think?"
"ER-RA, ER-RA, ER-RA …”
"Do stop.”
I go off to fetch her meds. When I return, Bea has fallen asleep.
posted by Alexandra Grabbe at 4:38 AM
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