maryanne bernardo

Safekeeping

I could always hear them.

Short burst of laughter. 
A curse word thrown in, here and there.

Women were always talking around tables.
Blue smoke, twirling high above them.

Some of them could blow smoke rings.
As a child, I would try to catch them.
Poking my finger through them, I imagined they were donuts.

Sometimes their conversations got really quiet.
There were fears spread out across the table.
Then someone would get up quickly, rush to the bathroom.
Another would follow, knock on the door and say, “you okay in there? ”

The others would sit waiting. 
There might be some hushed whispers followed by an audible,
“ I don’t know what she sees in him? ”

Judgement hammers that landed softly. A gentle vexation. 
Punishment with words that could cut you in half.

Invariably, there would always be coffee, and some kind of treat.
Then a waiting game ensued, to see who would be the first to give in.
I found this excruciating, as I wasn’t allowed to take anything before a guest did,
and believe me, no one wanted to be the first for fear of being chastised.

“ If she wants to lose weight so badly she should stay away from the cookies.”
The catty remarks whispered when the offender was out of earshot.

I thought they were friends. It seemed the parameters of propriety were endlessly morphing.

There was that one time I walked in and heard the words D&C.
Everyone fell silent. 

All of them looked as though they got caught stealing
from the collection basket at church

Not a word was said.
One by one, they got up in silence, carrying their cups to the kitchen sink.
Each one hugging the other goodbye.

The secret absorbed by the kitchen walls, to be kept in safekeeping forever.