Best of 2017

How my brain won’t let your face leave its presence.

How I’m going to blurt out that I love you long before the socially acceptable time because the internal raging fires that burn for you are out of fucking control.

“How beautiful you are,” I tell her with a smile.

She laughs. “Somehow I feel there’s more, but I’ll let it slide since you’re so sweet.”

She has no idea just how much more…

“We’re here,” I tell her, my smile fading as anxiety sets in as I park next to my sister’s Camaro.

“This is a nice home,” she murmurs.

It’s more than nice on the outside. My childhood home sits at the end of the street in an expensive neighborhood. The homes in the area sell in the millions.

The neatly manicured lawn and fresh paint job hide the horrific secrets that lie inside. The chaos and disorder. The absolute madness. The hired lawn people on call help keep up pretenses.

“Do you want to sit in the car?” I question.

She’s already climbing out. “No. I can handle this. Your mom needs you.”

I scrub my face with my palm and inhale a fortifying breath. This is going to be difficult. Last time I came by was when one of Mom’s shelves fell on her. My skin still crawls from having to pull all that shit off of her.

I hop out of the car and stalk across the lawn to the front door. Behind me, Violet is quiet but I know she has my back. I’m embarrassed, but she’s already seen Gwen and she’s been warned.

“Breathe through your mouth,” I mutter as I push through the unlocked door.

One of the only few clean rooms in this house is the foyer but I can tell that will soon change. Her mess is starting to spill out of doorways into the space. Soon, there will be no hiding this from people. I cringe to think about that day when a postman or nosy neighbor spreads the news about what lies in this house.

A scent that’s part feces and part rotting garbage immediately suffocate me. Despite breathing through my mouth, I can’t help but choke on the disgusting smell. Violet doesn’t let on her disgust because she’s quiet.

“Gwen?” I call out.

“In the basement,” she hollers back from within the house.

“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath. “The basement is the worst.”

I stalk down the hallway until I reach the dining room that leads to the kitchen where the basement door is. As soon as the dining room comes into view, I shudder. There is a small walking path but garbage and shopping bags and boxes are stacked waist high. You can’t see the dining room table—the same table my father made me eat Wail at. The entire room is a sea of junk and trash.

“This way,” I utter, grabbing Violet’s hand. I guide her behind me so she doesn’t fall.

“Oh,” she chokes out upon reaching the kitchen. More of the same in here. Trash and a pile of stinking dishes are bulging from the sink. There is a small walkway to the refrigerator and one more to the basement door that’s been wrenched open. I grab the handle and pull it open more so I can squeeze through. Light illuminates the stairwell but there is so much crap piled up on the stairs that it’s no wonder she fell. At the bottom of the stairwell, Gwen sits in a pile of garbage with Mom’s head in her lap.

“Mom,” I call out. “You okay?”

She waves a hand at me dismissively. “Of course, sweetheart. Just being clumsy again. I told your sister not to call you and that when I catch my breath I’ll get back up.”

“Nonsense,” I grumble. “I’ll carry you out of there.”

“Do you need help?” Violet questions, her breath merely a whisper.

I look over my shoulder and shake my head. “Just hold the door open when I make it back up here.” Once she nods in confirmation, I squeeze through the door and begin my descent.

“Shield her from anything that falls,” I instruct Gwen.

My sister scrambles into a standing position and moves in front of our mother. “Okay. Ready.”

I’m larger than both of them so when I begin climbing down, boxes and bags and garbage start crashing down to the bottom. I nearly knock over a stack of magazines but right the wiggling tower before it topples over.

The smell gets worse the farther down I go. Stinks of raw sewage. Fuck. I don’t know what to do when it comes to Mom and Gwen. Once, I tried to get people out here to clean up and they were both so distraught, I pulled the plug immediately. But the thought of Mom getting sick from leaky pipes creating mold or something worries me.

When I reach the bottom, Gwen hugs me tight. “Thanks for coming, big brother.”

I kiss the top of her head and grunt. “You just use me for my muscles,” I tease.

Mom laughs. “Oh stop, you two. How’s work been, honey?”

“Good,” I tell her as I slide my arms beneath my mom’s slight frame. “Just closed on a property recently. I’m going to go out of town to see it for a few days.”

“How wonderful,” she says beaming at me. “You look so handsome. Just like your father.” Her smile fades and her eyes grow distant. “How is he, anyway?”

I’m not going down that rabbit hole.

Not now. Not ever.

“He’s fine. He told me to tell you hello,” I lie.

Her blue eyes flicker with light. “Oh, how I miss him. Tell him I’ll come visit him for lunch in the city next week.”

I nod and smile back at her. We both lie to each other. She’s never leaving this house except on a gurney. He never asks about her.

I trip over something and crash toward the wall. My shoulder hits the drywall, but it’s better than her head. With more exertion and grunting, I manage to climb the mountain of trash until I reach the top. The door gets wrenched open, and I step into the narrow pathway.

“You need to lie down. Where are you sleeping these days?” I question. The bedroom upstairs has long been filled and abandoned.

“Laundry room beside the front bathroom,” she tells me.

I wince. “Laundry room it is.” I twist my body to face Violet. “Mom, this is Violet. My girlfriend.”

“Oh…” Mom chokes out, embarrassment causing her to tense up. “Oh…”

“Violet?” Gwen squeaks out in surprise when she emerges from the basement stairwell. “What are you doing here?” The terror in her voice makes my heart rate quicken.

“We were together when you called,” I tell Gwen gently. “She wanted to help.”

Gwen’s features harden and she shoves past me disappearing out of the kitchen. I shoot Violet an apologetic look.

“Excuse my manners,” Mom says to Violet. “And Gwen’s. We’re just not used to visitors. Had I known you were coming, I’d have straightened up a bit.”

“Violet doesn’t care about a little clutter,” I assure Mom. “Do you, baby?”

Violet shakes her head. “Nope. Your home is lovely. Were those begonias I saw by the front porch?”

Mom nods and beams at her. “Enrique planted those. I’m quite fond of them.”

“They’re beautiful,” Violet murmurs.

I flash her a look of gratitude before wading my way through the hoard of junk toward the laundry room. Once inside, I’m irritated to find that my mom folded up a bunch of blankets to make a makeshift bed on top of the side-by-side washer and dryer. Even the laundry room is filled with junk. I’ve long gotten over the fact that Mom doesn’t wash laundry or dishes or anything. I pay the city to take the trash two times a week but my gut tells me Mom never has anything to put out at the curb.

Violet pushes past me into the laundry room and smoothes out the blankets and situates the pillows. I set Mom down on her bed and Violet proceeds to cover her up. Mom, no longer embarrassed, stares at Violet as if she’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

I glance over at my woman.

She’s sure as fuck the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“I’m going to go check on Gwen. Can you stay and make sure she’s okay?” I ask Violet.

When she smiles and nods, I lean forward and kiss her forehead. “Thank you, baby.”

I can hear Mom chattering to her as I exit the laundry room. The mere idea of climbing the stairs has me shuddering, but I know Gwen is upstairs in my old room. It’s the only place in the house they won’t fill up with junk for some reason. Whenever I tell Mom she should sleep in there, she just shakes me off and says she’s saving the room in case I ever need to come back.

It takes several minutes and a couple of dry heaving moments until I pass by one of the bathrooms but I eventually make it to my bedroom. Once I push inside, I take a deep breath. Everything is just as I left it. Dad, that asshole, had been right. I needed to get away. I’d let Mom nurse me back to health after my extensive burns, but the moment I was healed, I left.