Oblivio: Stories and such by Michael Barrish

Dirt in a Cup made me think of the time my sister and I took my mother to Grand Opening in Brookline. It’s the sex store run by feminist sexlovers. We told her ahead of time what it was and she gamely agreed to go in. She was okay when we first came in because she only seemed to look in one direction and that was toward the books. They are not all in-your-face porno with crazy, cartoony flesh coming at you. Many are quite tasteful and arty. So she was okay. Then she swivelled her head on its little neck to the left and saw a bumper sticker that said “I love my cunt” and then the Wall of Dildos. “Oh my,” she actually said. She laughed a little, went a little closer but not close enough to touch. Enough to admire. She’s a good woman, my mom, she told the owner it was a wonderful shop, good for her, etc. She seemed to be keeping herself occupied glancing at everything from a distance. We left after about 20 minutes or so. As we were walking, my 77-year-old mom very matter of factly said, “Now I know what a cunt is.” You could have knocked us over. First, that she said the word. Second, that for her 77 years, she didn’t know.