Her suspicious look faded and she grinned. She told me all about their week and how much the kids, even Kayla, had loved it. Carrie’s parents and Cody’s mom had spent a couple days at the resort with them and I felt a pang for what I’d never have. I’d never have a mother who’d travel anywhere to spend time with her grandkids, should I ever have them. She’d probably suspect them of being aliens posing as grandkids and bar them from her apartment all together. I pushed aside my own pity party and listened to Carrie’s stories. They’d crammed as much as humanly possible into the week, and Carrie claimed she still hadn’t caught up on her sleep or her energy, but she looked gorgeous and well-rested and so, so happy.
I was happy for her, because no one deserved happiness more than she did. She’d taken care of her parents after her sister had died unexpectedly and then she’d taken care of her sister’s son after his horrible father had kicked him out. She was finally getting to live a life for herself and I wasn’t going to burden her with my problems.
“Want to talk about Oscar?” she asked, when she’d finished her stories about Disney and put her empty mug in the dirty dishes bucket.
“There’s nothing to talk about. We’re friends. He took me hiking, I took him to see a play at the university. That’s all.”
She shook her head. “Do you know that your eyes light up every time you say his name?”
I snorted. She was even more of a romantic than I was, but she didn’t hide it as well. “Wishful thinking.”
“You could do a lot worse. He’s a good guy.”
“One of the best.” The words were out before I could stuff them back in. I hadn’t meant to say them, but they were true, maybe the truest thing I’d said all day. And, because he was such a good guy, I would never subject him to my current and future baggage.
She grinned like I’d just told her we were getting married. I rolled my eyes.
“Come on, matchmaker,” I said. “Let’s shop for books.”
That worked. She was like a bloodhound on the scent as we browsed the store together, egging each other on and making suggestions to one another, so that by the time we got to the register, our arms were full and we’d spent more money than we should have. “Maybe don’t mention this to Cody,” Carrie said, when Liddy rang her up and she saw the total.
“What happens in a bookstore, stays in a bookstore.”
We said goodbye to Liddy, took our bags outside, and hugged. Before Carrie walked away, she turned to me. “You know you can tell me anything, right, Dilly?”
“I tell you everything.” I pretended confusion, even as my stomach roiled with worry and fear.
She nodded, but she didn’t look convinced. I started toward home but turned at the last minute and went to my mother’s apartment. It was late, after eight, and I figured she’d freak when I knocked at the door, but…I just needed to see her.
I had to do our secret code knock three times before I heard the deadbolts slide free and the door opened. My mother’s hair was a wild, tangled mess and her face was pale. She was wearing an over-sized men’s t-shirt and nothing else. Without her usual full-coverage clothing I could see just how thin she’d become, her legs and arms frail and not much more than bones. How had she gotten this bad? I always made sure she had food to eat and it was always gone from the cupboards on my next visit.
I walked in and shut the door behind me. “Dilly,” she said. “You scared me out of my wits. What are you doing here?”
“I was in the area. I wanted to stop by and see you.”
“Please tell me you drove here. You shouldn’t be walking around downtown Catalpa Creek so late at night.”
“Of course, I drove.” The lie slid off my tongue easily. I sat on the couch and patted the seat next to me. She took it, but her smile was brittle, forced.
“I was just about to go to bed, Dilly.”
“I won’t be long. Have you been eating the food I bring? You’ve lost more weight.”
She looked away, toward the kitchen and, for the first time, I wondered how often she lied to me. I’d thought her illness made her incapable of lying, as it made her incapable of moderating her fear or hiding her emotions. “I eat it, Dilly. I do. It’s just that some of it…Well, that box of oatmeal you brought last week had a tiny corner of the lid lifted away and I couldn’t be sure…” She looked at me. “People are crazy, Daffodil. They will put poison in anything.”
I wanted to drop my head in my hands and cry. How had we gotten to this place? “Okay, Momma. I’ll check the packaging more carefully from now on.”
She nodded and pulled her legs up under her. “Now, what did you stop by for?”
I almost told her it was nothing and stood and walked out, but then I remembered the look on Carrie’s face and I steeled my resolve. “It’s just that a lot of people have been asking about you lately, Momma. I think maybe it’s time we told them the truth, let them come visit you once in a while.”
Her face twisted, and I braced myself for impact. “Tell them what, Dilly? That I lost the house and my job because I was so distraught about my own daughter leaving me all alone after I’d already lost her father? Is that what you want to tell them?”
“We can tell them that if you want. It’s just that maybe seeing people would help you—”
“Help me?” she screeched. “I don’t need help, Dilly. I am the only one who realizes all the danger there is this world, but they wouldn’t listen to me. They’d look at me the way Melly looks at me and they’d think I needed drugs and try to send me to an insane asylum just like you and Melly are doing.”
“It’s not an insane asylum—”
“No.” She got to her feet, her whole body straining with the force of her emotion. “No. I won’t be laughed at by them. I was the wife of one of the most well-loved men in this town. I was invited to all their parties and told how beautiful and kind I was every day I went out. Then your father died, and I wasn’t anyone special anymore. Everyone abandoned me.”
In truth, she’d pulled away from her friends and not the other way around, but I knew better than to point that out. “They want to see you now, Momma. They’re worried about you.”
“You can tell them I’m fine.” She leaned toward me, her body shaking. “You tell them I’m alright, Dilly, and you make them believe it. You owe me that, girl, after what you did to me.” She shook her head. “It won’t just be me they treat like some sort of freak, Dilly. When I tell them how you left me all alone when I needed you most, when I tell them what kind of daughter you really are, they will all hate you and abandon you the way they did me.”
I no longer cared what they thought of me, but I wouldn’t hurt my mother. I’d let her down more than once when I was a rebellious teenager and I wouldn’t do it again. I held up a hand like I was trying to sooth a wild animal. “It’s okay, Momma. I won’t tell anyone anything. I swear it. I just thought seeing some friendly faces might help you.”
She sank into the stained armchair, the armchair she wouldn’t let me clean because she thought the cleaners were toxic. “I don’t have any friends,” she said wearily. “I’m all alone.”
“You’re not alone, Momma. You have me.”
“Do I, Dilly? You left me before, how do I know you won’t do it again?”
“Because I promise. I’ll never leave you again. Never.”
I fixed her some tea and tucked her into bed and left, weary and sad. Across the hall, a door opened and an older man, a man I suspected was almost as much a recluse as my mother, stuck out his head. “Everything okay, Dilly? I heard shouting.”
“Yes, Mr. Montan. Just a disagreement.”
“You’re a good daughter, Dilly.” Mr. Montan closed his door, and the sound of his locks clicking into place rang out in the silent hallway.
I tried to be a good daughter, but I couldn’t help feeling that I was failing, over and over again.
***
“Hey, Oscar,” I said. He was sitting on the stoop, Buddy by his
side. “Thanks for hanging out with Buddy.”
I sat on the top porch step, Buddy between us. I’d gotten a quick dinner out after work and then met Carrie at the bookstore, so I hadn’t had time to get home and take Buddy out. Sandra was on her porch, a low light illuminating the space, and she sent a wink my way. I waved over Oscar’s shoulder. Across the street, a few guys were throwing around a glow-in-the-dark frisbee across several front yards, laughing and yelling.
“I was happy to do it,” Oscar said. “Good shopping?” He pointed at my overflowing shopping bag.
“It always is at Willow’s bookstore.”
“Huh. I haven’t been in there, yet.”
I slapped a hand over my chest and gasped in mock-shock. “Please tell me it isn’t so. We must remedy this immediately.”
“How about tomorrow? I’ll pick you up after work, we can get dinner, and you can take me to the bookstore.”
“What about Buddy?”
“I’ll bring him,” he said. “I’ll drive.”
“Sounds good. Want to see the books I bought?”
“I do, but it will have to be inside. You missed the sunset and it’s too dark for me to read the titles.”
“I watched the sun set as I was walking home.” I’d watched the sunset and couldn’t help feeling that my carefully constructed house of lies was starting to crumble. I should have been terrified, but I felt an odd kind of relief. “Come on in and I’ll show you what I got.”
He and Buddy followed me inside. My place was cluttered, but I’d managed to do some dusting and vacuuming that week, so it was clean. I hated a dirty house and, with a dog, cleaning regularly was imperative.
I dropped the bag on the dining room table and spread out the books for Oscar to see. I’d expected him to give them a cursory glance and mutter something about them looking interesting, but he read each of the back covers and asked questions about them. Had I read anything by that author before? Did I actually enjoy reading horror? That sort of thing. I even let him borrow one of them, something I never did with new books, but he lived right next door, so I wasn’t worried. Not really.
He headed toward my front door, book in hand, but I didn’t want him to leave, didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. Just didn’t want to be alone with myself.
“Want to go out? I could use a drink tonight.”
He spun and looked at me, worry creasing his brow. “Everything okay?”
I shrugged. I was tired of lying to him. “I had an argument with my mom. It’s no big deal. I promise I won’t keep you out late.”
I couldn’t make out his expression well in the dim light. “Sure,” he said. “I could handle a drink. What’s the happening place on a Friday at eight-thirty?”
I considered the options and I knew, based on the way I was feeling, that I needed to be careful. I could very easily drink too much and get wild. I wanted to get wild, to dance and lose myself in the crowd and the buzz of alcohol, but I couldn’t do that. I needed to be sober in case Mom needed me. “Philistine’s is always fun,” I said. “And they usually start the music for dancing early.”
“I thought we were just going out for a drink.”
“A drink and a couple dances. You up for it?”
“I’m not a dancer,” he said.
“Good, then it’s something new for you to try. I did go hiking.”
“And I went to a play. It’s actually your turn to try something new.”
“Buy me a drink I’ve never had.”
“I’m not sure that evens out,” he said. “Dancing is a lot more humiliating than trying a different drink.”
I waved a hand. “Don’t be silly. No one is going to be paying any attention to your dancing.”
“Maybe not, but I’ll be paying attention to me and I am a salt spa owner, a very serious meditation teacher, people expect me to be dignified.”
I snort-laughed. “If you’re going to be such a baby about it, I’ll owe you, okay. You can take me to do something of your choosing I’ve never done before.”
“Deal.” He spit on his hand and stuck it out. I spit on mine and we shook on it.
I bent down to Buddy’s level. “We’re going out, sweetie, but we’ll be back soon. You just sleep, and we’ll be here when you wake up, okay?”
Buddy whined, but he dropped his head onto his paws, like he was resigned to his fate. “Okay,” I said. “Now I feel like a terrible mother. Maybe we should just have a drink here.”
“He’ll be fine,” Oscar said. “I swear I’ll keep an eye on the time and make sure we aren’t out too late.”
I patted Buddy’s head and stood. “I’m just going to go as I am.” I gestured to my jeans and my button-down blouse. “Will you be embarrassed to be seen with me?”
He grinned. “Never. Do I look alright for the club?”
He was also wearing jeans and a simple navy-blue polo shirt. His hair was a mess, as usual, but it suited him. He looked better than good and I wondered if it was a bad idea to go out with him, to dance with him. After a drink or two, I might be tempted to lean in and find out how his lips tasted. I shook it off. He was my friend and, though he might be single, way too good for a liar like me. “You look great.”
We walked the ten blocks to the club, chatting about our days. Thankfully, Oscar didn’t ask about my fight with Mom. I didn’t want to have to lie to him anymore, but I wasn’t ready to tell him everything either. I wasn’t ready for him to walk away when he decided my drama and baggage was too much. The truth, one I’d learned a long time ago, was that people wanted friends who were fun, easy, and always smiling. People wanted friends who kept the conversation light and made them laugh. Nobody wanted a friend who brought them down, who added darkness to their lives.
The parking lot was already full, but it was a small parking lot and a small town. The college kids would be at house parties or bars closer to campus, so this place served mostly locals. I led Oscar inside and headed straight for the booze. Damian was working, and he waved as soon as I stepped up to the bar. He was helping another customer, but I knew he’d get to me as soon as he could.
“Are you friends with everyone in Catalpa Creek?” Oscar asked. The music hadn’t really started thumping yet, so he didn’t have to yell to be heard.
“I just know a lot of people.”
“Lots of acquaintances, few friends,” he said. “You don’t let many people get close, do you?”
“Whoa,” I said. “Serious talk for a bar.”
He held up his hands. “Sorry. I’ll stop. Tonight is about relaxing.”
“Hey, Dilly,” Damian said. “Want the usual tonight?”
“Hey, Damian.” I gave him a big, friendly smile. “The usual would be perfect.”
Damian turned to Oscar. “Hey, man, what can I get you?”
“I’ll have a vodka cranberry.” Damian nodded and turned away to make our drinks and I stared at Oscar, biting back a laugh.
“A vodka cranberry?” I asked. “Isn’t that what college girls drink?”
Oscar grinned. “College girls and me. I’m not a huge fan of liqueur, I need some sweetness to take the edge off.”
I shook my head as Damian placed my whiskey in front of me and Oscar’s red drink in front of him. I reached in my pocket for cash, but Oscar beat me to it, laying his card on the bar. “Hey,” I said. “This was my idea. I should be paying.”
“Consider it my gift to you after a rough day,” he said. “Besides, I’m in charge of drinks tonight. What’s something you’ve never tried?”
I pursed my lips, considering. I’d had a lot of drinks in a lot of different situations. “Um, I’ve never had a pink, frou-frou drink. At least I don’t think so.”
He grinned and held up his glass. “A pink frou-frou drink it is.”
I laughed. “There are few men who would willingly make such a declaration.”
“I am infinitely secure in my manhood. Though I have to say I’m shocked to see you drinking whiskey lik
e it’s water.”
“I started drinking whiskey because I got tired of people handing me frou-frou drinks and telling me I look like a doll, like Barbie’s kid sister.”
He didn’t laugh. His eyes flashed with anger. “Did it work?”
“Nope. But it makes me feel tough and very un-doll like, so I’m better able to ignore the comments.”
“You aren’t a doll. You’re a beautiful woman.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I know what I am. I’m cute, doll-like, I’ll never be what anyone calls beautiful or sexy, and I’m okay with that.”
“Well, I’m not.” He leaned in closer, his expression so fierce and serious I found myself leaning toward him, wanting to be closer. “You are the most beautiful, sexiest woman I’ve ever known.”
His words made my stomach drop in the best way and I leaned closer, wanting to kiss him, before I remembered I had a boyfriend. I leaned back. “I guess you haven’t known many women,” I said, trying to lighten the situation and catch my breath.
His jaw tightened. “Don’t do that. Don’t make a joke of it. I meant every word.”
“Thank you.” I leaned back toward him, until our foreheads were practically touching. “You’re a good friend.”
He leaned back at the word friend like I’d slapped him. He straightened and faced the bar lifting his drink to his lips and finishing it in one long swallow.
I finished my drink, and he signaled Damian.
“What can I get you?” he asked.
Oscar grinned, seemingly over whatever had bothered him a moment before. “Dilly wants to try a new drink. Can I get her a cosmopolitan with a little umbrella?”
Damian grinned. “If she wants to try a really new drink, I’ve got just the thing.”
The Good Guy on my Porch (Catalpa Creek #3) Page 14