Deviation

The trip down the turnpike is surprisingly and disappointingly void of traffic. All too soon, he pulls the car up to my old development…I mean, trailer park. Long metal boxes sit on each of the streets. The one at the end of Sheffield Lane, number 104, is the one I grew up in. It’s a faded white trailer, a horizontal tan stripe cutting through the middle. The cement steps are still cracked, precariously signaling the entryway to my childhood home.

Jack’s hand slips over mine and I realize I am methodically rubbing my left knee. I look down and watch Jack finger the black leggings I am wearing right over the small scar that sits on the edge of my knee.

“I always wondered where you’d gotten that scar on your leg.” Jack gently squeezes my hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss my fingertips.

“Well, now you know,” I mutter softly, extricating my hand from his, folding my arms over my chest. I’m not cold, but yet I am. It makes no sense, yet it perfectly makes sense. I hate the jumble of emotions flowing through me right now.

“Shall we?” Jack opens his door and I patiently wait for him to come around to my side. He helps me out and we stand, staring at the trailer.

“Well, you are insisting, so let’s get this intervention over with,” I grumble.

Jack tucks a loose lock of hair behind my ear and nudges me forward. I walk up the steps with no railing to the screen door, the bottom still ripped. I stop, caught in a memory. I turn around to look at Jack, but decide to keep this one to myself. With my luck, Jack would end up stopping at the nearest pet store to purchase two of whatever he thought I might need.

We had a cat once. This was after my dad eventually got rid of the dogs. My mother found his litter near the docks and he was the sole survivor. He was a tough little beast I could identify with, and she had given him to me to care for. I guess this was my first attempt after the dog bit me to socialize properly. His name was Leafy, a peculiar brown tabby with a torn ear that preferred the outdoors to my parents’ loud arguments. I couldn’t say I blamed the cat. One evening in particular, I couldn’t open the door quickly enough. Leafy tore open the screen and squeezed his skinny body out the door. He never did come back. When a pet leaves you, it’s a cruel sort of abandonment. I thought animals loved unconditionally, but not Leafy. That little shit probably made himself a home at a nearby horse barn south of the city, living out the rest of his days increasing the feral cat population and eating plentiful mice. After that, I couldn’t bear the thought of having pets. In terms of my tolerance for abuse, I felt like that damn cat was the last straw.

Jack clears his throat. Standing here is prolonging the inevitable. “I’m going. I’m going.” I knock on the door and take a deep breath because when the door opens and I step inside, I know I won’t be breathing clean air for a while.

The door cracks open and a head with greying hair peeks out. “What do you want? The mister ain’t here right now.”

The woman is hunched over, so I can’t rightly say I know it’s her. It has been a good four years since I’ve seen her. “Mom?”

“Edith? Edie, baby? Well, look at you. All grown up, and with a man, too.” Mom clucks her tongue, assessing us both. I watch her lick her lips, cracked pink wi

th cheap lipstick, as she looks Jack over.

“Mrs. Willows, I’m Jack, Edith’s boyfriend.”

“Ah, now, don’t be all fancy. Me and Mr. Willow’s ain’t never got married. No time for that nonsense. Come on in.” Mom opens the door and I wince at her admission. I never told Jack that fact. Most people just assume they are married.

“How’s Dad?” I hesitate to ask.

“He’s out. Got work painting today so he’ll be catching a ride back with Landon…unless the bastard drinks it all watching a game tonight.” Nodding, I follow her to the ugliest Formica table ever produced. Sitting in the corner, it’s chipped white and yellow, those silver-gold sparkles inlaid in the top. I’d forgotten what it looked like. While my parents were out hitting the bars, I spent many hours doing my homework at this table…provided the electricity was still running. Sometimes they forgot to pay the bill. Imagine that.

“I’m sorry we’ll miss Edie’s dad. We were hoping to see him.” Jack sits down, and I’m relieved the chair doesn’t collapse or anything else embarrassing.

“Drink? Smoke?” Mom pulls out a bottle of gin that’s almost empty, then tosses a pack of smokes on the table next to a full ashtray. My stomach rolls from the smell of sour drink and smoky stale air. You’d think alcohol would be my trigger, but it’s the stale cigarettes that have me ready to puke up my guts.

“No, we’re good, Mom. I, uh… I just wanted to see you, say hi, and let you know I’ll finish college in May.”

“College? Really? Well, that took you an awful long time now, didn’t it?”

“Actually, Mom, I did it right on time, all while working.”

“Oh, I suppose you want a pat on the back or a hug for that? I ain’t got nothing fancy to give you for a gift. We ain’t real formal around here, Jack.” My mom winks at him, which is a combination of weird, disturbing, and surreal.

“That’s all right. I’m really proud of Edith’s accomplishments. She’s got great grades and it wasn’t easy.”

“Yeah, well, we all knew she wasn’t terribly bright to begin with,” Mom mumbles, pouring herself a drink and downing it, refilling the glass immediately.

“That’s not true. Edith is going to go on to graduate school and make something of herself. She’s going to have a great career.” I know Jack is encouraging me to tell my mom about my hopes and dreams, but it’s a pointless task. She’s consumed with her alcohol. I don’t understand what it is Jack wants me to get from this little trip down memory lane.

My tolerance has reached its limit when I give in to shouting at her. “You know what, Mom? I’m really sad for you. I wish our relationship was different, but all you care about is alcohol, your cancer sticks, and fucking daytime television when the cable is paid.” My hand slams down on the table, shaking everything on it.

“You’re an ungrateful thing, you know that? I did birth you and I wasn’t too keen on being a mother,” she sneers. The knowledge I wasn’t wanted is no surprise, but it never hurts any less. Jack looks at me with sadness.

“Did you even notice I was gone? The day after high school ended, I left here and drove to school, sleeping in my car that summer to save money for classes and board.”

“You’re just little Miss Hoity-Toity, ain’t you? Get out of my house. I raised you, but you come back to shove your crap in my face?”