My best friend.
My heart beats twice and both beats hurt.
Mom slips in and out of coherence as Isaiah carries her. When we reach her door, I slide the string of keys I used to wear as a necklace in elementary school from around Mom’s neck.
I briefly catch Isaiah’s gaze and I cower from the pain in his eyes. He wears his uniform shirt for the garage he works at. Grease and oil stain the blue material. Every day for three weeks, Isaiah has texted and called and I haven’t answered him. I bury the guilt. He’s the one that betrayed me and there’s nothing I can do about not responding to him now.
A horrible rancid odor slaps me when I open the door. I’m dizzy with dread. I don’t want to know. I just don’t. We’re going to Florida.
We’re running away.
Isaiah follows me in and swears. At the smell, the damage, or the trash, I don’t know.
Nothing has changed from the last time I was here, except the refrigerator door hangs wide open.
“Did you forget to pay the cleaning lady?”
Isaiah asks.
I half smile at his attempt to defuse the situation. He knows I hate for anyone else to see how Mom lives. “She only accepted cash and Mom was insistent that we use the credit cards for the frequent flyer miles. ”
I step over trash and broken pieces of furniture and lead Isaiah to Mom’s bedroom.
He gently lays her on the bed. This isn’t the first time he’s helped me with Mom. When we were fourteen, Isaiah helped me pick her up from the bar. He’s used to the cracks in the wall, the worn green carpeting, and the picture of me and her taped over her broken mirror.
“Give me a few minutes,” I say. “Then I’ll go grocery shopping. ”
He gruffly nods. “I’ll wait in the living room. ”
&nb
sp; I remove Mom’s shoes from her feet and sit on the bed next to her. “Wake up, Mom. Tell me what happened to your hand. ” As if I don’t already know.
Her eyes barely open and she curls into the fetal position. “Trent and I had a fight. He didn’t mean it. ”
He never does. “The faster we get away from him the better. ”
“He loves me. ”
“No. He doesn’t. ”
“Yes, he does. You two just don’t know each other real well. ”
“I know enough. ” I know he wears a ring that hurt like hell when he punched me in the face. “You’re leaving with me, right? Because if not, I can’t take care of you. ”
I want her to say yes and say it quickly. The pause feels like someone ripping my intestines through my belly button. Finally, she speaks.
“You don’t understand. You’re a gypsy. ”
And she’s high. “Are you going to leave with me?”
“Yeah, baby,” she mumbles. “I’ll go with you. ”
“How much do we need to get the car out of impoundment?”
“I need five hundred to get Trent out of jail. ”
Trent can die in jail. “The car. How much to get the car out? I can’t find regular rides into Louisville and I can’t take care of you if we don’t leave town. ”