Before I Pop

I don’t like eating in restaurants that have booths with shellacked wood and the tables have those Western chairs with plaid seat covers and one thick ruffle just to convince you that this is how serious they are. I feel sick. Like I could barf. Mama’s chili fries are soaking through that thin white paper and oozing between each red square of the plastic basket they’re threatening me from. I lift my chin high enough so I’m looking out past the wooden wall of this dark booth where me, Dingus, Shanice, Paris, and Mama are having what I assume has to be dinner.

Paris outdid herself this time by handing over her Neiman Marcus card to Mama, who refused to look anywhere but the clearance racks. She needed help carrying the bags through the mall out to the parking lot. Then, when we pulled into the Acura dealership, Mama said, “And just what are we doing here?”

“Auntie Paris wants to buy you a car,” Shanice blurted out with her big mouth.

“Lord have mercy. I can’t take so much excitement in one day. Paris,” Mama said, turning to her while reaching in her purse to get out her spray, “I don’t need no expensive Acura. But if you just wanna spend this kind of money, then drive down a few more blocks to that Mitsubishi place. I saw a snazzy Galant on that lot that I swear got my name on it. But we ain’t gotta do it today. I’m tired and I’m hungry. So can we please stop somewhere and get something to eat?”

“Whatever you want to do, Mama. But keep in mind that we’re leaving in the morning, remember?”

“I know, I know. But I ain’t had a decent car in ten years; a few more weeks won’t kill me. Besides, I don’t wanna leave Lewis in my house for too long by hisself.”

So we came here. This was Mama’s bright idea. I don’t even know the name of the place. But I’m sure it’s a chain. My chef salad was disgusting and everybody else just had cheeseburgers and fries. Mama and Dingus were the only ones who said yes to the chili.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” I’m hoping Mama can hurry to get up, but she seems to be taking her time. I feel a lump of chili at the base of my throat, and pushing it down are pieces of straw chicken, and then, under them, are the Eggo waffles I had for breakfast. All of it’s racing to get out. When Mama finally slides off the edge of the seat I can’t hold it anymore and there, all over the table and floor, comes my breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Shit.

“What is wrong with you, girl?” Mama asks, while Dingus helps me stand.

“Are you okay, Janelle?” Paris asks. “What all did you eat today?”

But I’m not finished. This time I aim for the floor. Other people are now spectators. My face is hot and throbbing. My stomach hurts. My head aches. I am embarrassed and hope I can explain it away. By the time I feel like I’m finished, I realize that Shanice hasn’t moved. She’s still sitting in the corner of the booth, leaning her head against the padded plaid wall, looking bored.