Cheese

Just a short story. Enjoy!

That must be it. The cheese. How could I have left it? And I haven’t driven the car in two weeks either. I lean over the console, and rummage around in the back seat, trying to find it. The stench wafts around my head, hovering, it feels like. Death’s ghost couldn’t smell worse than this. My mother’s home made parmesan. Upon pushing the car seat aside, I find Annie’s stash of animal crackers, which, of course, are stale, and now in little crumbs. Groaning, I roll down the window. The stuffy cheese air is making my head hurt now. Leaning back up into the driver’s seat, I gasp for air from the soft breeze outside. Then back into the almost sticky dirty sock-scented car.

I am a mother of four. You’d think it gets easier after the first one or two, but no. It doesn’t. You start doing stupid things, or, in this case, forgetting to do stupid things, like take the cheese out of the car before it’s already pungent smell grows worse, and infests all of your upholstery. But no. Let it sit in your car for two weeks, grow some mold, bake a bit in the summer sun, and then find it and take it out. Except for the fact that I can’t find the darn stuff. It seems to be hiding to spite me. The smell says, “Ha! This is what you get, Jen. This is what you get for leaving your mothers gift in your car! Your mother’s gift! That she made, just for you! You are a selfish child, not appreciating your mother.” And heavens to Betsy, does it stink!

I have finally decided to actually get out of the front seat, and look for it, since my sideways digging doesn’t seem to be working out. I reach under the seats in my van, and feel around a bit. A piece of plastic touches my fingers and I grab it and yank, hoping that it is the bag with the cheese. The stench fills my nostrils again, making me blink, and my breath catch. But what I have grabbed is not the cheese. No, it is just a bag. The cheese is taunting me. I swear…

Finally! I have found it. I think I need a gas mask.

“Mommy! What’s that?” My five year old, Jenny, runs up behind me and grabs my leg.

“This? This is some cheese mommy left in the car a while ago..”

I should have guessed. As soon as I said cheese…

“JENNY! COME BACK!” She had grabbed the foul-smelling glob from my hand, and run to the side of the house. And, as inevitable as her taking the cheese, by the time I had gotten there, she had already eaten half of the hellish mush.

“It’s not so bad, mommy! It’s just a little—BLEAHHH!”

Lord, help us…