The Defective Bin

Daisy

There's nothing worse in this life than a woman.

It was my father's mantra that played like a warped record in my head whenever Helene was born. I didn't even like that name, Helene, but it was the name of the nurse they gave me, who was pretty terrible, but there's something about delivering a watermelon through the wrong end of you that zaps all imagination.

But with Brent? It was something different.

Beautiful, really.

I've always admired men. I mean, not my father (or Brent's father either for that matter), but I never looked at him like a representative of his gender. Carson was one of the outliers, the kind on the conveyor belt that the factory workers threw into the "defective" bin.

And he was the only parent I ever knew. If that's not typical, I don't know what is.

I wanted to be different for my children. I didn't want to be like the man who once tried to kill my bunny because it was looking at him the wrong way. I wanted to love them so fiercely, they'd never worry that one day, I'd just up and leave them like he left me.

Sixteen, alone in that shanty of a house.

I wanted them to know the warmth of another person who has all their faculties and doesn't blame the world for everything they lack.

I wanted Helene to know, it's not so bad being a girl, and one day, a woman.

I wanted, wanted, wanted.

But you can't change what you are.