Cheeky

My aunt Silvia loved pinching my cheeks every time she saw me.  She called herself the best aunt I had because she was going to make my cheeks nice and strong.

I tell you, she had problems.  For twenty-five years, that woman pinched my cheeks as hard as she could.  If—and when—I screamed for her to stop, she would laugh and pinch even harder after stopping just long enough to tease me with relief.  She would always tell me she didn’t know when to stop.  I honestly think she believed that was a valid excuse for any and everything.

She had the nastiest habit of licking the serving utensils.  She, not one for just settling for mildly obnoxious, would coat the spoons she licked with a thick layer of saliva.  Again, she would claim not to know when to stop.

If she wasn’t trying to rip my face off or orally violating the silverware, she was drumming her long nails on any surface she could (literally) get her hands on.  If she were going to be the best aunt I had, it would have to be the best at annoying every living creature.

I guess it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her when she woke up, bound with rope and held inches away from a large nest of fire ants.  Well, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me, as I always imagined someone would become fed up with her enough to want to torture her.

It didn’t come as a surprise to me, and frankly that’s because I was the one holding her ratty head above the ant bed, while my parents looked on.  They reflexively rubbed their cheeks as her very presence evoked painful memories embedded deeply in the cells of their cheeks.

It also wasn’t a surprise that her cheeks had been painstakingly grated off with the fine side of a cheese grater.  Grated cheek goes well with sliced tongue, which is best served cold, of course.  It would have to be fed to her, because my mother personally removed Silvia’s fingers by inserting each hand into a blender.  It was the only thing in our house that could drown out that drumming sound.

I saw Silvia look toward me, and it almost sounded like she was asking me not to shove her bloody face into the mound of furious fire ants.  I smiled, feeling merciful, and pulled her back away from the ants.  She seemed to have learned her lesson by the feeble attempts she was making to apologize.

I brought her face close to mine, so I could tell her I was sorry too.

I told her I was sorry I didn’t know when to stop.