Spider Brains: A Love Story (Book One) (11 page)

“
What do you want
me
to do?”

“
Catch one?”

“
No.” Mom did this funky little "shh, shh, shh" and then, acting like she had a key in her fingertips, she locked her lips with said key and tossed into oblivion.

“
Mo-oo-oooo-oooom.”

“
No.” She put down one of my favorite gray tee-shirts. “Now. Susie. It’s your project. If you want to do a
spider
project," her mouth bent and her neck muscles formed into tight ropes that looked like cables leading from her jaw to each collar bone, "you have to take full responsibility for it.”

“
Gahhhh.”

“
Don’t Gah me.”

I got up off my chair and slumped my way over to the refrigerator to add more goat’s milk into my glass. I know. Weird. No? But mom says cow’s milk causes too much phlegm (khach-khach) and makes me hack loogies. She hates it when I hack loogies. So, goat’s milk, it is.

Then, mom goes on. “I’ll
watch
you catch a spider. If you want.”

“
Really?”

“
Sure. But, if it looks too risky. It’s a no-go. We’ll stop your project immediately and try to think up another one for the Queen.”

“
The Queen!” Roar. Mom. Ya just gotta love my mom.

“
Do NOT repeat what I just said to ANYONE. You hear.”

“
Mum’s the word, mom.”

And, as usual, we said the phrase together. “Keep it under your arms!” And, we both placed one hand under under one arm and made fart noises. Something dad taught us. 'Cause he was so classy that way.

We giggled and then she put her hand out for my glass and started drinking.

“
Mom." glug. "Stop." glug. "Stop." glug. "Mother!” And proceeded to drink half of my goat’s milk.

When she finished, she said, “Get more. There’s more.”

“
Mother. Gahhh.”

FOURTEEN - My Wimpy Mom

Dew had settled on the ground. That’s how freaking early it was.

Delilah and I had returned only hours before from one of our sojourns to Morlson’s. I’ll tell you about it in a minute. My noggin felt like lead.

Mom woke me before getting ready for church. Even after I’d warned her not to enter my room lest she turn into a giant turkey pie and be eaten by her workmates at Costco as one of their sample dishes.

She woke me after she had her first cup of coffee—with agave nectar, please, and real cream. Mom refused to worry about a spreading hip, thigh or tummy. She always said that if she had “to quit drinking real cream in her coffee, then, just shoot me.” Knowing full well I’m a pacifist and would never own a gun let alone shoot one or let alone, again, shoot my own madré. For heaven’s sake. What does mom expect of me. I’m just a kid.

“
Come on. Get up.” She tugged at my covers and I tugged them back over my head, against her.

“
What time is it?” Silk check: mouth face hands. Wipe. Set.

“
Seven.”

“
In the
morning
?”

“
Of course in the morning. Get up.”

“
Mom. Doesn’t church start at ten?”

“
There are spider webs just waiting for you outside this morning.”

“
Later. Let’s do it later.”

[Pause]

[Pause]

“
Later may never come.”

I slid the sheet just off of my head, to the bridge of my nose. She had just slid a finger underneath one of her way blue eyes. The tears mixed with her quickly reddening whites making her blue irises look even bluer if that was at all possible.

“
Okay.” I whipped the sheet off and sat up. I grabbed her around the shoulder and held her for a moment as I spoke. “Can I pee first before spider duty?”

“
Go.” She wiped her face with both hands and stood to let me out of bed.

When I passed her she slipped her hand down my arm to my wrist. And, when she pulled her hand back, she gasped.

“
God. What do you have on your arm?”

“
Silk.” Shoot. “These must be some pretty crappy silk pajamas. Falling apart, and all.”

“
That's
not
silk.”

“
Hmm. Dunno.” I shrugged. “Gotta pee, mom.” I made it sound as urgent as urgent can be.

“
Go.”

I ran out of my bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom. She had begun wiping at her hands and lifting the sheets to inspect where I had been laying before I high-tailed it out of there.

But, the bed wasn’t guilty. The webbing didn’t come from there. It came from me.

“
And, where’s my loofah!” She yelled toward the bathroom. It sounded all muffled and angry through the door.

It was like she had x-ray eyes and watched me pull it out of the lower cupboard. “I have it in here.” I yelled back, quickly scrubbing off the rest of the sticky thin threads from me.

“
I want it back, young lady.”

Dang.

“
I need it!” I whined.

“
Susie.” She waited before saying this and, honestly, it kind of stung, her words. “You’ll be the death of me.”

I rolled my eyes as I sat down on the toilet but mom wasn’t finished.

“
I’ll cut it in half. Okay?”

“
Okay, mom! Cool! Thanks!”

FIFTEEN - Spiders B Our Bizness

We’re now thinking about putting a sign on the door of mom’s car that reads:

SPIDER WRANGLERS, WE
STRRRETTTCCCHHHH
OUR RATES FOR YOU!

Just kidding. But, I was thinking about it, you know.

Mom was right. There were about one thousand gazillion spider webs all over our front yard. Hanging like nets in trees. Looking like trampolines on the ground. The weather was turning all Halloween-y and the dew from the cool wet nights rested in the tiniest droplets along each tract of webbing making them appear magical and dangerous at the same time.

The only other lights on that early was a glow emanating from freakshow's house across the street, that and the street lamp on the corner, four doors down.

Mom noted about a dozen webs in the bush that lined the front of our house just below the kitchen window.

“
There.” She pointed. Her breath billowed around her like a ghost escaping from her mouth. “See how many?”

“
Way to go, mom.”

Then we both stopped.

We kind of froze.

We stared.

For like an entire week.

“
Well.” She finally said to me.

“
I have to pee again.”

“
You have to do it or pick another science project.”

“
Gahhh. Mom!”

“
Look. It’s chilly. If you do it fast...”

“
Like removing a bandage?”

“
Right. Like removing a bandage. It won’t be so terribly terribly terribly
disgusting
.” Mom's whole entire body quivered. We could've gotten by with just one "terribly."

Mom shuddered again, made a minuscule squeal, then she rubbed her upper arms crosswise. Then she let out another little bleak-sounding thing.

“
You’re so brave to let me do this all by myself, mom.”

“
Hush. Stinker.”

I looked at the Tupperware bowl in my right hand and the sheet of cardboard I’d dismembered from an old shoebox in my left. My body leaned in toward the bush.

“
Wait!” She screamed and jolted me out of my state of concentration, making me jump about a mile up in the air.

“
What!” I yelled back.

“
What about an egg.”

“
Now? I thought you said waffles this morning.”

“
No. Not for breakfast, silly. For your science project. You know. To incubate and hatch. I mean. I’ve been thinking about it and, really, honey. Doesn’t it seem just a bit safer to hatch and egg than this?”

Turn and body slump. “Mother. You mean the egg that Billy Walton will incubate and hatch and the egg that Cinda and Melinda will incubate, the egg Jennie Castravetti will incubate and hatch and the other egg that Matt-the-freakazoid-Ryder will incubate? And...”

“
Okay! Stop! You’ve made your point.” Then she got all bold. “Fine. Get the darned spider.” Shudder. “I just can’t watch.”

Then SHE LEFT ME THERE! Oh, brave of bravest mothers sending her one and only single solitary daughter to the gallows.

“
Mother!” I called after her but by then she’d reached the door. Mom turned back. Now, here’s where I learned that for some things in life you will always be alone. She shook her head in these tiny little jerks and grimaced, shuddered again and slammed the door behind her.

“
You’re very brave, you know, mom!” She’d moved to the kitchen window by then and held a hand over her mouth as she watched me.

Body slump.

I looked at the aquarium sitting on the edge of the porch. It looked like a mile from where it needed to be. I set down my Tupperware bowl and my cardboard. Mom’s hand dropped as she watched. Then, I picked up the stupid aquarium and stared at her through the window. Her hand rose again to her mouth.

I walked back to the Tupperware and cardboard, near the bush where my spider hung in its web.

After setting the aquarium back down on the ground, I stood and stared at the spider. It was way too surreal to deal with.

I bent down, in a squat and watched her but must've been breathing too hard because the soft blast of my breath hit her web and she began this rapid-fire bouncing thing that, I assumed, was meant to detract danger from around her. Or, at the very least, be some sort of warning.

I felt a shudder building up inside of me, growing along my spine but refused to let mom see me get all grossed out like that.

Successfully, I suppressed my true feelings and picked up my Tupperware and cardboard again.

Then, I just watched the spider. In a way, I felt sorry for her—not sure at that point if she was a she but I wasn’t about to lift her up and inspect her poopy butt for gender. No. I was sorry, that her life, as she knew it, up to that moment, would change forever.

I could relate.

A pang of guilt coursed through me but if anything would impress the beast of all teachers, Morlson, this would. Spider-bite Morlson would think I had turned into the Ninja of all high-schoolers who do science projects. I, in Morlson’s eyes, would become Science Project Ninja-Girl! Certainly, she’d pass me, based on this project alone!

The spider... remember? Was doing her spider thing. Hanging there. Waiting. Waiting and hanging. For a bug snack to innocently fly into her web of sheer and utter death.

My guilt left.

And, as fast as my guilt left me, my hands clapped the Tupperware and cardboard over her!

Trapped!

I looked up and mom was jumping up and down. Like she was so happy I had done it that I bounced too but not so much that the spider would escape, run up my arm, into my hair and make me do the freakiest “I’ve got a spider in my hair” dance, EVER! Bleeee. Shudder.