Free She Ain't Heavy, She's My Mother by Bryan Batt

taken into consideration;even the wires that went across my face were painted by Norma to match my skin tone. There was a motto in our family: If you are going to do something, do it right! The underlying and unspoken message was “pull out all the stops and take no prisoners.”
    The day before the dress rehearsal at school, the
grandes dames
of dance convened in our extravagantly decorated Christmas home. This year Gayle went overboard, with all my support, as we both loved decorating for every holiday. We often joked that guests must always be in constant motion, because if someone sat too long, Mom would affix a red velvet bow to them. The chairs were in place, the record on the hi-fi, poised for playing. As was the drill, the ladies sat, legs crossed at the ankles, all smiles, their colorful rhinestone Christmas brooches gleaming as the tree lights across the room glistened in the facets. Norma’s was a modern golden angle with a starburst diamond halo. Moozie’s was an elegant emerald-and-ruby tree. And Mom’s, which was a gift from Norma, was a bust of Rudolph with a big ruby for the nose. I hid in the study, assembling my brown polyester and corduroy ensemble, and trying desperately to get the nose and antlers on right. Finally I had to call Mom in for assistance, and as she adjusted the venison-inspired regalia, I noticed the brooch.
    “Mom that is so beautiful.”
    “Your sweet Aunt Norma gave it to me, I Sewanee she is so thoughtful. Okay, mister love bug, now don’t forget to use your clicker to turn the light in your nose on and off, and remember you are special. Just like Rudolph can light up the sky, you can light up the stage.”
    She gave me a gentle kiss on my forehead, and as I looked at myself in the mirror, I thought to myself,
I am Rudolph and I will play in the reindeer games
. Although I looked like a living TV antenna, I could only see Rudolph the young buck. Mom peered grandly out in front of the walnut study doors and announced, trying to imitate a heralding bugle, “Ta-ta-ta daaaaaa, ladies, I give you Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer!”
    The music started, and I was flapping and tapping my heart out, turning the nose on and off, getting applause and cheers from my beloved audience of three. As the routine grew, with Moozie’s suggested key changes to heighten the excitement, my showbiz gene kicked into full throttle, and I was flying, but forgetting to turn off my very shiny nose. By the time I arrived at the headstand, inebriated with performing, I smelled something burning.
    “AUGHHHHHH, GET IT OFF!” I cried, yanking the contraption from my face, revealing my own blistered red nose. Suddenly I felt so stupid, this whole thing was stupid, and to top it all off, my nose was ruined.
    In the panic, the ladies rushed to my side, scurrying me into the kitchen to get the burn salve, arguing over the latest first-aid treatment for burns. Just then, Dad burst through the den door.
    “Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on in here?”
    “Johnny, it’s all right, we have it under control, Bryanny’s nose got burned a little during the dance, that’s all. Baby dear, I am so sorry, does it hurt much? You don’t have to wear the light-up nose if you don’t want to.”
    “Oh, let me see.” Dad took my rattled little face intohis big hands and announced, “Looks like you’ll live, son. But a word of advice—scrap the light-up nose, you don’t need it.” Dad gave me a wink, and then came back with, “Any of you ladies care for a cocktail? I’m bellying up to the bar.”
    “John, really, another?”
    There was a peculiar silence completely foreign to our home during their steely stares.
    Norma was first to break the chill. “Johnny, sweetie, I’d love a highball.” Moozie chimed in with a request for a Brandy Alexander, and of course Dad knew what Mom always drank. She smiled insincerely, and a Chivas Mist with a twist was added to the tab. Dad produced a triumphant grin and