Lemon Pledge and Bleach

Authored by Kristi

    When I was 6 through 8 years old, we lived off a dirt road in Maud, TX. Living “off a dirt road” may sound like someone is telling you how country they are. Frankly, we were pretty country and also pretty broke—even though I didn’t know that. Also, plenty of my extended family lived off a dirt road, so I never knew that living on a dirt road was anything special. Country songs celebrated it. But the most country-living that I ever experienced was in that house in Maud—with dirt everything, a house up on cinderblocks, a well, and an old school bus rotting away about 100 yards from the house.

    The endearing part of that house was that it had wood floors. When we moved into that house, my mom sanded those floors for hours and then shellacked them. She’d do one section at a time so that we could walk around the shellack while it dried. In the Texas humidity, I’m sure that it took a while. When she was done, I thought those shiny floors meant we were rich.

    It was either a Saturday morning or summertime because my mom was doling out chores to all four of us kids. I was often given the job of crawling under the table, using “lemon fresh” Pledge to clean every crevice of those heavy-assed chairs. Why in the hell did we clean the house like there was going to be a military inspection? I’ll never know. When I was done, I would push the chairs out to mop under the table.

    My older sister, Tina, was washing dishes by hand. My mom stood about three feet from Tina on her left side. When my mom levied a punishment or ass-chewin, her voice generally got quiet and steady--at the start. (Don’t forget to insert the southern accent.) “Who put this glass on the winda sill?” The glass was a grape jelly jar with a purple Dino dinosaur from Flintstone fame. Mama’s voice got my attention, so I peeked up through the legs of the chairs. Reluctantly and a bit confused, Tina said, “I did. To soak it because there had been mold in it.” My mom said, “What’s IN this glass?” Tina said, “Bleach water.” Mama said flatly, “And I just drank it.”

    Mama wanted so badly to blame someone--especially Tina. But she couldn't. She started guzzling cold water from the tap. Everyone was quiet for a while, but then we just went on about finishing our jobs. Mama walked around pissy while we worked. She was probably more pissed that she had no one to obliterate than the fact that she swallowed a mouth full of bleach.