Molly and the Fat Kid

I was downtown yesterday, at my cigar bar. We can’t smoke inside any more, so I was sitting outside the store on a bench, having a coffee and a cigar.

Then this family walks up, a Mommy, and a Daddy and a Big Sister and a Little Brother. The Little Brother was obviously angry, scowl on his face, squinted eyes and furrowed brow. He shuffled his feet, dragging them across the floor instead of picking them up. He was short and fat, probably 11 or 12 years old with black thick hair and no neck. The sister was tall and thin, probably 13 or 14 with straight brownish blonde hair. I wouldn’t have thought they were related if I didn’t see the whole family.

Mom and Dad went into the cigar store, and bro and sis sat down on the bench near me. I was watching them out of the corner of my eye, and couldn’t help but hear what they were saying.

The kid was practically yelling at his sister, “We haven’t done anything I want to do this entire trip, except the Banana Boat ride” The sister, said something quietly back to him that I didn’t hear. “What did you say Molly?” said the boy in a tone of voice that said “when I find out you said what I think you said, I’m gonna kill you!” She repeated whatever she said, and again I couldn’t hear. The fat kid yelled, “I want to go back to the ship because we aren’t doing anything that I want to do.” He mentioned the Banana Boat ride again, and he was pounding his fist on the bench.

Molly got up to look in the window of a shop across the hall while the kid hammered the bench. Her face was quiet and relaxed, maybe looking a little like she wanted to cry. She had a defeated look and I took it to mean she had to put up with her brothers bullshit all the time.

Molly went back and sat down and said something to her brother, who responded with the same furious growling about how miserable he was and nobody would do anything he wanted to do.

About that time, the mother and father came out, and I saw the same defeated look on the mothers face. The father came out and cheerily said “lets go kids!” and Molly got up and started walking with her mother. The Fat Kid just sat there. The father turned around and barked MOVE YER ASS! The Fat Kid got up with a scowl, and shuffled by, dragging his feet, not picking them up, sliding his flip flops along the floor.

I wanted to communicate with Molly as she walked by, I wanted to comfort her. I wanted to tell her her brother was insane. I wanted to tell her she was OK, it was everybody else who was fucked up. I wanted to communicate several different messages, but sorting them through my mind, none seemed appropriate. The fat kid will probably make her miserable forever, till she grows up and moves out.

I don’t want to be the fat kid. The first relationship I ever had (that lasted more than two months) my girlfriend told me she felt like she was walking on eggshells, worried about me loosing it if she put the salt shaker in the wrong place or something.

Last night I walked by a table and knocked a wicker basket full of stuff over. My wife said “Uh-Oh! Is that my cue?” I wasn’t angry but apparently getting angry would not have been unlike me. Like if I spill something, I think it’s my wifes fault for not cleaning up the mess beforehand?

I’ve been trying to control my temper and deal with anger all my life. I hated the fat kid yesterday. But maybe instead of wanting to comfort Molly, the sister, I should have wanted to communicate with the Fat Kid:

“Hey Kid, you’re just like me.”

5 thoughts on “Molly and the Fat Kid

  1. I think that post and what you realized is excatly what the 50's are for. I have had the same (deep) thoughts about life and my role in it lately. The challanging part is remembering all these moments,and using them, not just defining them. Good luck always, Laura

  2. Deep! Excellent post. Hope you find a way to deal with it. And you should peoplesurf more! (thats what I call what you did with that family… you know, like surfing the 'net, only with people! 🙂 ) It often leads to interesting posts like this.

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