Cadillac Knockin’

by L. Monique

Val had been waiting for Uncle Otis to arrive for days, harassing the curtains and nagging her husband, hoping that any minute that old raggedy Cadillac he had been driving for the last twenty years would roll up in the driveway before she lost her mind. The sooner he arrived and they caught up on all the alcoholic binges, imaginary singing engagements, and illegitimate children she had missed, the sooner he could leave and the sooner she could embark on never forgiving her mother for telling him he should come visit in the first place. When he finally did come a banging on the door, there was no Cadillac, only a beat up cab with a very impatient driver waiting for his fare, and Uncle Otis, who had hopped out like he was limberly 20 again, before he looked around and said, “Holy fucking Jesus, what you got to drink, niece?” Oh hell, she wondered, slowly making her way down the front walkway, wondering where was the caddy, why the hell he was pulling all those boxes out of the cab, and what happened to just coming down for a short visit? “Girl, I can’t go back to Michigan, I think they’re looking for me.” He shuffled his huge belly and overloaded packages past her as she stood at the curb swallowing air, rage and disbelief, wondering how many times she’d have to call her mother before the bitch would decide to stop being a coward and just pick up the phone.


L. Monique is the author of a book of poetry entitled The Swallow Project: A Guide to Consuming Obsession. All that other fascinating stuff can be found at, or at her blog.