Sunflowers-A Story

Spider Tatoo
A story


          “I don’t know what’s come over that girl,” Faylene’s mother said in reference to her oldest daughter. “Now she wants to traipse off to some other country.”
          “It’s a school trip, Winny. They’re only going to Mexico. That’s not even really another country since NAFTA.”
          “It might as well be Icelandia for all that. She’ll catch some disease and die. It always happens.”
          “I think it’s pretty rare for tourists to die on school trips in Mexico. Or anywhere, actually. I think tourists die in this country more often than in other countries.”
          “You’re always on her side. Why can’t you ever be on my side?”
          Foster scowled, knowing that there was no way to answer this. “You know, we could go to Mexico ourselves,” he ventured, trying a new tack. He had always wanted to go south of the border.
          “Oh my God. Now you want to kill me as well as my daughter. I’ll never go to Mexico. I don’t want to be murdered by an angry Mexican.”
          Foster hadn’t expected her to agree, but the depth of her hostility startled him, and he was looking for ways to beat a retreat when Faylene came into the room. She draped herself across the big, yellow armchair and wiggled her toes and looked put upon. “Mama, I’ve got to draw a spider for my homework assignment.”
          “Lord God, Faylene. Why would they ask you to do such a thing? Is this for the trip to Mexico?”
          “Mama! Are you clowning me? We aren’t going to Mexico to study spiders.”
          “Well, why are you going, if one is allowed to ask?” Winny turned her back on Faylene as if certain that she wasn’t allowed to ask.
          “Oh, I don’t know. Something about culture. The boys just think they can sneak off and drink tequila.”
          “And what do the girls think?” Foster asked cautiously.
          “That they’ll have a good time watching the boys puke their guts out.”
          Foster wondered whether he should be reassured. “What’s this about a spider?” he asked.
          “For biology. I have to draw one. I can’t stand spiders. I wonder if I could draw the one on Tiffany’s chest.”
          “Tiffany has a spider on her chest?”
          “You know. A tattoo. It’s kind of like creeping up out of her cleavage. It looks real. I mean, it’s probably anatomically accurate. Do you think that would be okay?”
          Foster didn’t feel qualified to answer; he waited for Winny to speak, but she said nothing. He looked at her and saw that her face was streaked with tears. She cried so often now that Foster worried the tears would make permanent lines on her cheeks, tattooed evidence of her grief. There was nothing he could do. Comforting her would only make it worse, especially with Faylene there. His thoughts drifted. He imagined Mexico. Cactus and colorful hats and salt-rimmed glasses of tequila served by brown-skinned waitresses with spiders on their chests.