the life of richie


Posted in was by Rich on March 2, 2009

Richie’s not-name was Binky, just as Sister’s falsifier was Thelma, which is what the Nanny-man would call Sister. The Nanny’s name was Wayne, and he would come take care of Richie and Sister when Mommie went away. He would build fires in the fireplace, and build Lego castles with Richie, and make dinner, and have wine waiting in hand-on-tray for Mommie when she returned from wherever Mommies went when they were not mommying. Wayne was like the man-Mommie, and Richie loved him like a Mommie who was a man. He never got mad or yelled when the mayonnaise farted. He was thin with long hair and would come in the winter wearing a fur coat and sip eggnog at Christmastime, which Richie wasn’t allowed to taste because it had alcmehol in it. And Mommie and Wayne would drink lots of alcmeholnogg and laugh and yaff by the fire until the children fell nestled into the valley of dreams in their beds and sugarplums crackled in the dancing flames. And if Richie’d have had his way, he’d’ve poked at the smoldering sugar-things with a stiff stoker. As it was, Wayne let the dreamlings kindle slowly and then die lightly. Mommie watched her dreams die with them –– lightly –– slowly ––

And she said that someday Richie would be a writer just as she never was. Just as Daddie was a lawyer who’d studied art history. Just as sister was a sister. And when Wayne went away, he went away, and there were no more fires in the house after that then. And Richie heard he’d gone to France to take care of some little old lady like the one who’d watched the naked priest stand all cold and dripping in the rain.