Mercy

Mercy lights her bangs on fire on purpose one morning just because she wants to smell what burnt hair smells like. Her father has been breathing erratically for days, her father is going to die any minute.

Mercy is remembering one Christmas Eve when her father made her go to a candle light service at midnight at a local church. He, in fact, had to work a can drive for a local bar in full drag that night and would be off at 1030, enough to time to put on a tie and put Mercy in a dress and go to the church for the service. It was disappointing to Mercy, it was nothing at all like what she thought it would be. She thought the entire sanctuary would be dark and the service would take place like a funeral pyre, everything lit from the floor to the ceiling, welcoming the Christ child into the world from his teenage mother's womb. But instead the entire service was under the hot fluorescent lights and for the last ten minutes of the service they turned the house lights down and passed out big chunky candles for everyone to light their very tiny birthday-like candles on. Mercy got her hair too close to the chunky candle. Mercy's bangs went up in smoke. Two old ladies behind Mercy hit Mercy on the head with their hymnals during O Come O Come Emmanuel.

When Mercy got home, her father gave her a bag of ice and put her in his lap and they cuddled in front of the television and he chuckled at the old ladies swatting her poor little head. They turned out all the lights and watched TV in front of the christmas tree and its lights and Mercy thinks to herself today, that was the most perfect Christmas ever. No other Christmas had ever been that good.

She wants to smell the smell of burnt hair. She doesn't remember exactly what it smells like. She takes the kitchen torch she uses to light the stove and click click clicks the lighter until it lights slowly and softly and woosh takes her bangs out. She watches her bangs burn fast, all the way to her scalp, until she dunks her head into the full sink below her.