"Testimonial" by Scott Broker

Testimonial

Everyone began arguing about the old subject, but I was not so interested. Standing at the head of the table, I looked out at the steaming carcasses we were set to eat, then brought my knuckles against the woodgrain. I began to tell them what I was always trying to tell them, how I was driving in a car with my mother, and a tropical heat was coming through the vents. Immediately a clamor arose; they did not like this story. They shook their dishware and sloshed their wine in great burgundy arcs. Stop that! one shouted. I could not stop. Over the course of our lives, we are all eventually given one thing to tell, and this was mine. I was in a car with my mother, I continued, yelling now, and through the vents poured a tropical heat. We were driving on a sandbar in the middle of the ocean. Where are we going, mama? I asked, feeling frightened of the surf. There is no such thing as that, she said. It dawned on me that this was not my mother, but instead a figure who shared certain peculiarities with my mother, such as alopecia and an ambient level of wanderlust. This was the part that most upset them, when the woman who was not my mother reached over me, opened the door, and pushed me out into newborn brightness. They cried and spat, wanting death to have the last word. But no — we do return.

Scott Broker

Scott Broker is a queer writer, based in Los Angeles. A current visiting faculty member at Woodbury University, he has been awarded fellowships from Tin House and Lambda Literary, as well as an MFA from Ohio State University. His work has appeared in or is forthcoming from Ecotone, New England Review, the Cincinnati Review, the Idaho Review, and Joyland, among others. He can be found at www.scottjbroker.com.

Headshot: Martha Tesema

Photo Credit: Staff