The Pageant
Jackie, come give mummy a kiss. Mummy smelling of Pabst, leaving the boy sick in his nighttime routine.
You’re my favorite! Winning a pageant he never entered, her nightgown and slippers become his gown and heels, congeniality and beauty come together in places no child should visit.
Our secret. Don’t tell!
Talent and poise and feminine ideals passed from generation to generation along with the mask; terror in the guise of care….mother to daughter to daughter to daughter to daughter to ….
Jackie, come comb my hair. Mummy’s hair clean with Prell and long and straight and wet, waiting for attention….Mummy waiting for attention….
I won’t let him hurt my pretty girl….
Jackie, come play pretend with Mummy. Mummy needs you. Only you!