After my shower, I changed into the clean clothes that Maria gave me. They were large, but more comfortable than my old clothes. Maria was sitting on bed with a some toiletries.
“Viene aqui, boy” She commanded. I thought that meant come here.
She grabbed my wrist sternly and began to file my nails. “Do you bite them?” She asked me.
“Yeah”
She glared at me. “Yes. You say ‘yes ma’am’ when you assent to a question”
“Yes ma’am.”
She examined the scars on my arm and sighed heavily.“You’re not a cutter, are you?”
“No ma’am. They’re from childhood accidents. Like the stove” I laughed.
“Didn’t your mom teach you how to use a stove, chico?”
“No ma’am. Don’t have one”
“A stove?”
“A mom” I told her.
She stopped filing for a moment, and then she began scrubbing my head with the brush.
“Me neither. It never stopped me though” She told me.
“Who said it stopped me?”
She glared at me. “Excuse me?! No wonder you don’t have manners” She said, slapping my head between intervals.
So this is what a mom feels like.