Harley

Six Years Old

The bottoms of my dirty feet stick to the grimy discolored carpet as I make my way down the dark hallway to Mommy's room. The familiar smell of mold and Marlboro cigarettes, the scent I call home. Lifting my right arm, I run my fingers along the rough fake wood that makes up the walls of our single wide trailer. I hear moaning coming from the end of the hall, or maybe it's crying.

Pressing my hand on the flimsy door to Mommy's room, I push it open gently and peek through the small gap. The door is so worn out its hinges have begun to buckle and it won't shut all the way. My mouth parts and I breathe heavy as I spy. My mother's bare back faces me, her hair bouncing up and down as her body bobs up and down. My eyes fall to a man lying underneath her, but all I can make of his face is his sharp beak-like nose and hairy cheeks. The room smells funny, not matching the smell of the rest of the house either.

I blink slowly, taking in the scene. One I've seen before, but I still don't know what they're doing. Something naughty, I'm sure. I've seen bits of similar acts on TV.

It's not unusual to have strange men in Mommy's bedroom. She has lots of guys over that are friends. I'm not allowed in her room when they're over, but she's had lots of friends over today and I'm thirsty and hungry. I've already been through the fridge. Besides the milk jug that looks like it's about to explode from being old, there's nothing to eat.

Swallowing, my dry tongue feels like a fish out of water, reminding me why I went against Mommy's rules and came into her room when she had visitors in the first place.

Pushing the door the rest of the way open, I take a large breath to gain my courage and lift my chin.

“Mommy, can I have a glass of water, please?" I ask, swinging my hips, I make my purple dress flare at the bottom and I clutch the lapels of my leather jacket Daddy got me, as I display my outfit for mommy. I hope she likes it. I may not look right wearing such a grim jacket with a dress, but it's just my way. Much like my mother, I am different. Mother wears a bra and torn shorts everywhere, and tells everyone 'if they don't like it, don't look.' I like to match something pretty with black.

My mom is brave, which is why all the guys look at her the way they do. I want to be brave like her.

Mommy's head snaps in my direction, and she pulls the blankets to her bare chest. The bags under her eyes almost as dark as her wig, she glares at me. Feeling hot all of a sudden, I look to the dresser where she keeps her five wigs to avoid her angry stare. I like the pink and brown wig more than any of them. She should wear that one, it makes her skin glow.

“God, Harley, can't you do it yourself?" she growls, pushing herself up off the bed. She's naked, and very skinny compared to other moms I've seen. She reminds me of one of those skeletons you see people hang on their front door around Halloween. It's scary.

“I can't reach the glasses," I remind her. Last time I pushed the chair up to the counter she got very mad that I was going through the cabinets. I think she has something in a coffee can in the far right cabinet. It's the only thing in there, and I can't get the lid off. It's heavy and smells terrible. When you look through the plastic lid, all I see is white powder though. So why would she try and hide it?

Grabbing the pack of cigarettes off her nightstand, she plucks on with her thin lips and lights it. Smoke dances around her before she quickly blows smoke into the air.

“I'll be back," she mutters to the guy beside her. He's got his arm over his face, and blankets wrapped around his body. Standing completely naked, Mom stomps past me. Rolling my lips onto one another, I swirl my dress and follow her into the kitchen, the floor of our trailer creaking beneath our dirty feet as we head toward the kitchen.

“Did you see the outfit I changed into? I was bored, so I decided to change," I tell her, but she doesn't say anything. I stop in my tracks near Mom's small leather purse, the yellow and blue wrapper catching my attention. It's Double Bubble gum! Mom always has a piece in her purse the day after she comes home late from the bar. One time I got caught taking it, Mom told me a nice old guy at the bar always gives it to her. As nice as he is, he's creepy she says. It's the only candy I get around here, so I don't care how creepy the guy is. Flicking my gaze to make sure she's not looking, I reach into her purse and grab it. Quickly unwrapping it, I pop it in my mouth. Mouthwatering sugar coats my mouth. If the color pink had a taste, this would be it. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath as my teeth chomp into the gum over and over. Kicking the wrapper under the couch, I follow Mom into the kitchen.

Mom sniffles, running her hand under her nose as she grabs a dirty glass from the sink. Filling it with water, you can see specks of dirt and food swirling around. My nose curls; it's not clean. Mother looks at me with a cigarette hanging from her lips, her left eye squinted from the smoke.

“That kind of looks dirty, Mommy." Her eye opens all the way, and she scowls at me as if I'm the scum on our kitchen floor. I wring my fingers nervously. Is she mad at me?

“What's wrong?" I ask with a frown. She always looks at me like she's angry at me. I was really nice when I told her the glass was dirty. I don't want to get sick, again.

With pursed lips, she suddenly tosses the cold, dirty water on my face. I tense with shock as coldness soaks my dress and chills me to the bone. My heart sinks into my stomach reminding me of the day I ate too many cookies and drank a whole glass of milk at Daddy's.

She flicks her cigarette into the sink and it sizzles until the rising smoke stops.

My eyes sting, and my bottom lip trembles. I won't cry. I won't cry.

“Ask me for another glass of water!" she seethes through yellow teeth.

Warm tears roll down my face like a waterfall. My feelings hurt, and sadness locking around my chest to where breathing is a chore. “Do you want a glass of water, Harley?" The way she says my name compares to someone describing a cockroach. She hates me.

I blow the water off my lips and continue to cry where I stand. My pretty outfit is ruined.

“You look ridiculous in that jacket. Take it off!" she demands, pulling at the pretty leather recklessly. I pull away from her fearing she might tear it. If she rips it, I would be so sad. It's my favorite piece of clothing. Daddy got it for me for my birthday.

“Mommy, please let-let go," I breathe in as my chest begins to burn with anger. I knew I should have just gotten water from the tub and not bothered her.

“Little girls wear dresses, Harley!" She finally lets go and points at me, her thin eyebrows pinched together. “They like boys, and want fucking fairy tales and some shit!" Grabbing her wig, she slips it off her head and tosses it on the counter before running her fingers through her oily hair. “Who am I kidding, you'll never have what it takes to be a normal girl."

Normal little girls watch Disney movies, and want happily ever afters with handsome men, according to moM. But I would rather watch Beyond The Law, and Gone In Sixty Seconds. Those are real love stories.

My happily ever after lives in the hands of a man full of action, and is questionably the bad guy in the story.

“Get out of my sight!" she snaps.

Turning on my heel, I hurry out of the kitchen and quickly run into my room and scurry under my small bed. Shuffling myself further into the darkness that has become my escape since I can remember. I get comfortable in my secret fort and wipe a tear from my cheek. I pull my mermaid plushy close to me and watch a black bug crawl across the floor. The cobwebs and spiders don't bother me anymore; if anything, they hide with me. The beetle squeezes into a crack splitting up the wall and I reach my hand out running my finger along the splintered wood. I wish the bugs would take me with them sometimes. To hide in the dark and look out and watch when I wanted; to not be seen unless I want to.

Pulling the rainbow mermaid inside my leather jacket, the memory of when I unwrapped the jacket and stuffed toy replay in my head. It's one of the few good memories I have. I got them both for my birthday from my dad, who I don't often see because his job is dangerous. He's a biker.

Sitting at the wobbly table in our kitchen, I swing my feet back and forth waiting for Daddy to show up. Today is my birthday, and I'm so excited. I'm five.

“You think the place looks okay?" Mommy asks as she smooths her hands down her thin spring dress. She looks pretty today. She doesn't usually wear dresses. It must be for Daddy.

“I think it looks cleaner than ever!" I throw my hands out in excitement. She growls words under her breath, and I shrink into my seat. She's always so angry, maybe she needs more naps.

The door swings open and the smell of something herbal and leather rush into the old trailer. It's Dad. I know that smell from anywhere. My eyes widen, my heart racing as I sit up in my chair.

Dad stepped further into the trailer carrying two packages wrapped with different colored balloons. Pushing out of my chair I ran to him, nearly knocking him over. He dropped the gifts to the ground and hugged me so tightly I felt safe for the first time in a long time.

“Happy birthday, princess," he whispers into my head, and I squeeze him tighter.

“Can I open them?" Pulling back, I look up at him before looking at the gifts on the floor in excitement.

“Go for it," he chuckles. I dropped to my knees, and I tore into the wrapping.

Pulling free a bright colored mermaid, I squealed and hugged her to my chest

“I love her!!" Quickly I dove into the next one, and the black shiny leather made me gasp. I held it up and lost all my words.

Dad hunched down, running his finger along the sleeve.

“You're the princess of my club, you need your own jacket."

Still in shock, I looked at my daddy.

“Can I be in your club?"

He laughed as if I told a joke, and stood up. I wasn't joking though. I wanted to be in Daddy's club, and I would be.

My mother didn't get me anything, but I was told to lie to Dad and tell him she did. I didn't care though, dad got me the best gifts ever. Something pretty, and something black.

I sniffle as I come back out of the happy memory, I wish dad was here right now. I wish Daddy would take me away from this place. He tells me it's too dangerous to live with him, but if he only knew how cranky Mommy is maybe he'd take me to his club where I know I belong.

I close my eyes, pretending I'm not Harley. That I'm someone else, someone Mommy likes, maybe even loves. Her perfect little girl, in a perfect world.