By the time Jet hollers last call, the queasy feeling has gone completely, and all I can think about is closing down and getting something in my stomach. In fact, there’s a can of condensed chicken noodle soup in my cabinet upstairs that’s calling my name. Maybe I’ll even write another letter to Ford while I’m eating it.
Tonight didn’t go as planned. I was only supposed to work until eleven, but we were so busy, I ended up staying until close. Since Ford is working tonight, I know I’m not missing anything from him yet. My attention is behind the bar, emptying and washing glasses when Jet yells from his end. I glance over to see what’s up, and my heart drops into my shoes. It’s the last person I expected to show up here.
Tonight.
My mom.
At first glance, she looks… good. Her smile is hesitant, and for good reason. The last time we spoke, it didn’t exactly end well, so of course she’d be a little uncertain about my reaction. That’s probably also why she decided to spring a visit on me here, where I’m least likely to make a scene.
Taking a deep breath and steeling my back, I head her way. “Hi.”
“Hi, Shayne. You look good.”
I just stand here, waiting, and take in her appearance. Her hair is somewhat clean, and she doesn’t look strung out on whatever drug was readily available earlier in the evening. She’s wearing a black T-shirt, which hangs loosely on her boney frame. What really catches my attention is the sadness in her eyes.
“What can I do for you, Mom? I’m working.”
“Oh, I know,” she says with an awkward chuckle. “I was just in the area.”
My eyebrows draw together. “You were?”
She nods but looks away. The familiar tell comes back, and I have to swallow against the bile threatening to rise once more. Her painful lies are one of the main reasons I finally left. It wasn’t just the drugs that destroyed her, but the lies she told to get what she needed, when she needed it. Even after every rehab stint, I could tell by the look in her eyes that she’d spiral out of control once more, sooner rather than later.
“I just…” she starts, glancing around to see who’s listening.
I do the same, realizing everyone else is leaving for the night. The only one paying attention to our conversation is Jet, who knows all about my history with my mom. He’s not even pretending to not eavesdrop either, but it doesn’t bother me because I know his nosiness comes from the heart. He’s protecting me, ready to step in at a moment’s notice.
“I shouldn’t have come,” she whispers, turning toward the door.
“Wait!” I don’t know what makes me say it, but the word’s out of my mouth before I can even stop it. “Where’s Bull?” I ask, the question chalky in my throat.
Bull Wagner is the town dealer. He’s been arrested more times than I can count for various offenses. My mom hooked up with him years ago, when I was still in high school. He had money but wouldn’t give it to her to spend on anything other than drugs. So while I sat at home, often with no heat in the middle of winter, he was across town living high off his cash cow. And she was right there with him.
“I, uh, left him.”
Her words have my complete attention now. “What? When?”
She sighs and closes her eyes. “A few days ago. He… he wasn’t a good man.”
I can’t stop the snort. “You don’t say,” I mumble sarcastically. “What tipped you off?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
She holds up her arm to show me the casted wrist. “He wasn’t happy when one of his associates didn’t show for a meeting. He, uh, took it out on me.”
My stomach falls once more. Even though I’ve washed my hands of my mom, doesn’t mean I want anything to happen to her. In fact, I’ve pretty much lived my entire life waiting for something to happen to her. “I’m sorry, but I’m glad you got away from him. He was bad news.”
She gives me a small nod in agreement and glances at the door. “Well, I should go. You’re getting ready to close. I was just…” She stops and takes a deep breath. “I just wanted to see you.”
I watch as she shifts on her feet and turns her back to me. I can see her shoulder blades through the material of her top, a reminder of how unhealthy she is.
Just as she reaches for the heavy door to push it open, I speak again. “Wait. Where are you going?”
She glances back and gives me a sad smile. “I’ll be fine, sweet pea. Don’t you worry about me.” Then she pushes out the door and disappears.