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Words bleed out like kerosene. I'll help you forget. He's screaming at the top of his lungs but knows better than to hit her again. Little Jeremy playing in the background, laughing as children do, grown accustomed to this din. Grown up. All on his own. Trying to be just like daddy.

I see the crack walk by on two legs of its own. The vacant stare tells me just what's left inside that head. Gaunt, drawn face. His smiles look like watercolor distortions.

"I haven't seen you since you were just a little thing."

Feigning interest, but careful to keep this short: "Yeah. How long's it been?"

"Shit, I don't know. Eight years?"

Eight years....I think he was coked up back then, too. He was generous and wealthy compared to his family, though. You know it's only a matter of time before dealing turns to something more. Choking down our addictions and spewing them back up in cancer and deadened brain cells. Still playing in background. At least the little boy never stops smiling. He's going to need that disposition to survive this life.

The girl this time, ten years of age, walks up and sits down next to me. She gives me a hug. I hardly even know her. Starved for affection; I hear her grandmother screaming from dawn until dusk, "Goddamnit, Katie! Sit down and shut the fuck up! Stop running your goddamn mouth! Get back in the house! Stay on the porch, and stop talking to the other kids!"
"Yes, ma'am."

Her grandmother hobbles away. I give the girl a hug. She asks me what I'm reading.

"History," I say.

"Is it boring at your school?"

"The book is, but the class is really interesting."

"How many teachers do you have at your school?"

"I don't know. A lot."

"Well, how many do you have? Like math, science, history?"

"It depends. I have five, but three of them are history professors. College is set up completely different from--"

"From school?"

"Yeah."

"That's why I'm not going to college."
I look up from my book. "Why not? You should go to college. Education is important. Especially if you want to get a good job later. It's going to be even more important for you than it is for me."

"I don't know. I just don't want to. It'll be hard."

"Yeah, but--"
She bounds away merrily. Her friend next door has come outside and her grandmother isn't there to scream like a banshee at her. I wonder if she's ever heard a positive word come her direction.

Later, on the back porch, my grandmother rambling, as she does. She has something important to say about everyone: "Katie isn't college material."

"She's only ten years old, and she can be. Any child has the potential."

"Yes, any child can be, but she won't. She doesn't apply herself, and she doesn't have a chance, anyway. Just look at her family. None of her grandmother's kids ever even graduated from highschool. One of them made it to the tenth grade because he lived with us, but he dropped out because he got a girl pregnant....She's not college material."

I don't know what to say....Just sit and stare at the TV screen. Jerry Springer: When trailer trash drunken whores get into disputes over who gets first dibs on first cousins. Fucking family reunion. Disgusted, I stand up. Try to think of nothing.

"Bye, grandma. I'll see you later this week."

And this never ends.