Normally, I’d call her Mother, but I was too pissed for that. She looked a mess. Her mom-jeans and outdated yellow blouse were wrinkled. Her hair was completely gray now, and she wasn’t even that old.
I walked past her. She darted up from the front stair of my porch, following me like a puppy. I hated myself for treating her this way. But I also hated her for putting me in this position.
“What brings you here?” I jingled the key in the keyhole, my back to her.
“You haven’t answered any of my calls recently.”
I could see her wringing her fingers in my periphery, looking down, like a punished kid. My mother was the world’s greatest hugger. Even more than Texas, who I noticed was into hugging her friend Karlie, and her grandmother, and hell-knows-who. Finding the strength not to hug her own son after five years must’ve killed her.
“Finally, your father told me I should get on a flight and check that you are okay. Your wellbeing is more important than money, obviously.”
“I’m okay. You can go now.” I pushed the door open with my shoulder. It creaked in protest. I walked in. She followed me hesitantly, knowing I wasn’t above kicking her out. She didn’t have a suitcase. Good. At least she wasn’t planning on staying long.
She looked around the room. There really wasn’t much to see. It was a two-bedroom house, small and in desperate need of fixing. The living room consisted of a couch and a TV. The kitchen had a retro orange table with four plastic chairs. The gray-yellow wallpaper was peeling, torn at the edges. That was what you got for getting the cheapest place available in Sheridan. And that poor bastard East went along with me. He couldn’t see me doing this to myself without sticking by my side.
Speaking of …
I turned around and flashed my mother a scowl. She knew exactly what I was asking. She raised her palms up.
“Of course I tried to check if he is home. I guess he stayed out last night.”
Translation: East got tail and never bothered hauling his ass back home.
“Surprised you dragged your royal ass here. East keeps you up to date with my BS.”
I avoided my parents so often, East had resorted to calling them weekly, just to let them know I was still alive. He gave them a curated version of my activities, taking out the underground fights, dirty hookups, and public feuds with professors.
“I don’t want to bother him too much.” Mom reached to try to fix my collar.
I swatted her hand away.
“Shame you don’t extend this courtesy to me.”
I got into the kitchen and grabbed milk out from the fridge, drinking straight from the carton. Mom took a seat at the table, trying to shrink into herself and take as little space as possible.
“You haven’t been home since you started studying here.”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.” I wiped my milk moustache with the back of my hand, shoving the carton back into the fridge and slamming it shut. I took a seat across from her. She wasn’t leaving before grilling my ass. Might as well get it over with.
Mom put her hands on the table, staring at them, not me. “How do you like it here?”
“I like it fine.”
“Very up-and-coming, isn’t it? Nice town.”
“Fucking lovely.”
“Think you want to stay here after you graduate?”
“I don’t think past what I want to have for dinner.”
I was careful not to ask anything about how things were back home. It felt like a slippery slope that could lead to an actual conversation.
“We miss and love you so much.”
“Bet you love the weekly allowance even more.” I cocked an eyebrow.
Her big brown gaze sprang up from her hands then scurried to the peeling wallpaper. Her eyeballs were coated with a thick layer of tears.
I sighed, sprawling on the chair, folding my arms over my chest and staring at the ceiling.
“What’s up with you, anyway?” I grumbled.
“I’m doing well, thank you for asking. Better, on all fronts. Still on the meds. Still working at Walmart. I got promoted last month. I’m a cashier now. It’s a nice environment, and I get to go out, talk to people.”
Her fingers were inching to touch mine. I wanted to throw up.
“I make my own money now.” She puffed her chest out, gaining more confidence. “Things are not as bleak as they look, Westie. We’ll get out of this mess soon. But we never expect you to help us financially. It’s not on you.”
Only it was on me. It was my fault they were in this situation in the first place. Mom finally put her hand on mine, leaning toward me.
“Let’s go out downtown. I want to buy you soap and shampoo and new shirts. Maybe get you a nice haircut. I want to see the town you live in. Do the whole mom-thing I didn’t get the chance to do when you first moved here. Please, Westie?”