Thursday, October 22, 2009

“The reason I liked that rubber band was because the moment I saw it in the pan of the Hamburger Helper I was cooking for your idiot father was the moment I realized that I cared so little for him that for a few seconds, while I was stirring that crap, twirling the rubber band with the spoon, I considered leaving it in there. I didn't even mind that it must've fallen out of the box of Hamburger Helper; that it got into the box at the factory or what-have-you. No, my immediate thought was to just leave it there. Like a secret revenge. I mean, he was the only one who was going to eat that dinner – I’d already had a tuna sandwich and you were God knows where. But I took it out, because I wasn’t going to have the bastard accuse me of trying to choke or poison him, and because I was better than that. But you know what I did? I rinsed off that rubber band and put it on my wrist. And I wore it everyday until it caught on my coat button yesterday and snapped. And the reason I miss it, is because it was a daily reminder of the day I completely stopped giving a shit about your father.”

I felt kinda bad for Mom. So to try to make up for that, a few days later, I opened the cupboard, got a box of Hamburger Helper, carefully opened the bottom of the box, put a rubber band in it, and then glued the box shut. She still talks about that day she found a second rubber band, like the way a kid talks about the best present they ever got, ever; almost like it was a miracle.

And that rubber band lasted for years!

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