Free All That Drama by Tina Brooks McKinney

your hands?” I asked. He slid off the chair and went to wash them without any further instructions from me. I could hear the water running but I doubted that he would put his hands under it. Kevin, like all little boys, had this aversion to water. I had to constantly keep behind him ’cause his little narrow ass would never get wet unless he got in a pool!
    I snuck up behind him and sure enough the water was running, but he was playing with one of his toy soldiers.
    “Boy!” I exclaimed loudly and it scared the shit out of him. He jumped, dropping his soldier in the sink. He looked at me with those guilty eyes and my heart melted. I knew from that moment that he was going to be some looker when he grew up.
    “Sorry, Mom,” he said and began washing his hands in earnest. I turned my back to keep him from seeing the smile on my face. He should have known I was going to check up on him but little boys are like men; they never learn the easy lessons.
    “Keira, come wash your hands,” I shouted before returning to the kitchen to get out cups for their milk and juice. I didn’t have the same hygiene problems with Keira. If I let her, she would take a bath ten times a day. She was so prim and proper. She never wanted to leave the house until every strand of hair on her head was in its proper place.
    My biggest problem concerning her was with her clothing. I always laid out her clothes the night before and she invariably wanted to wear something else. We fought a few minutes, depending on how much time we had, and she ended up wearing what I originally had picked out. The thing that pissed me off was that I always asked her first before I ironed her clothes what she would like to wear. So it was not so much me being the boss as it was her being pigheaded.
    We ate breakfast in silence and they went back to the living room to finish watching cartoons as soon as their plates were empty. I quickly cleaned up the dishes and scanned the freezer for what I was going to make for dinner.
    I always cooked my biggest meal of the week on Sundays so that I usually had enough to stretch that meal for two to three days afterwards. For the remainder of the week, I’d make simple dishes that could quickly be prepared in minutes. The phone rang again as I was leaving the kitchen. My heart began racing even though I knew that it would not be David.
    “Good morning,” I answered sweetly. Again, there was silence on the other end of the phone. I purposely held onto the phone waiting for a response.
    “Hello,” I said again with a touch of irritation.
    “Bitch,” a male voice said and then the line went dead. The voice did not sound like Keith’s or anybody else’s that I recognized. As far as I knew, Keith was the only person that hated me enough to call me a bitch, especially after what he had seen this morning.
    I looked at the receiver in disbelief before hanging it up. Briefly I toyed with the idea of changing the number but it had been my parents’ phone number ever since we moved into the house when I was in fourth grade. All of their old friends had this number, it was engraved in their hearts and I did not want to part with it. I still received calls from people looking for them and I would give them the number. No, changing the number was not an option.
    It was already hot outside. I decided to go upstairs and take a shower. I laid out some shorts for me and quickly made my bed. I wanted to get in some yard work early before the temperature was hot enough to fry eggs on the concrete. Although I hated to admit it, I was beginning to like playing in the dirt. When Keith and I were together, I left all of the yard work to him. In fact, I rarely came out the house unless I was going somewhere. For some reason, since Keith had been gone, I liked to sit out on the deck in the back yard reading a book. With the children playing, I read and listened to their playful chatter. Since Keith was out of my life, I was finding a lot of stuff