“I love you, big brother.” She made kissy sounds that made me smile. “Bring Dilly, too, if she can get away.”
I wasn’t going to ruin my sister’s moment with my bad news. “I’ll see if she can get away.” Even if we were still together, she wouldn’t be able to join me on the trip. Wouldn’t be able or willing to leave town to meet my family and see my little sister get married.
“Great,” Molly said with a little squeal of happiness. “I’m so excited.”
I hung up with her and felt…Relieved. It would be good to get away for a little while. Maybe while I was in Vegas, I could get over Dilly, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much the next time I saw her.
I made a few calls as I walked and had someone to cover the front desk at the spa for a couple days by the time I reached the house.
Dilly was sitting on the porch, Buddy next to her. She smiled when she saw me. She looked tired, but worlds better than she had that morning. She was so fucking beautiful, and I ached to go to her, to wrap her in my arms, to kiss her. My feet moved me too fast down the walk, something like hope flaring as her smile widened.
“Hi,” she said. “How was work?”
How was work? She’d broken my heart and she wanted to act like nothing had changed? “Work was good.” I kept moving, forcing myself to walk past her, because I couldn’t do normal, couldn’t pretend everything between us was okay.
“Oscar.” I stopped with my hand on the door, the keys in my hand. I couldn’t turn and look at her, because I knew if I did I wouldn’t be able to say no to her and I needed to tell her no, needed to keep some space between us. “Want to sit with me and watch the sunset like we used to?”
“Not tonight. I’ve got some stuff I need to get done.” Namely buying plane tickets and packing.
“Okay.” I hated the sadness in her voice. I hated it, but this had been her choice. “I hope…I hope we can be friends.”
“I don’t want to be your friend, Dilly. I can’t be your friend.”
I knew how the words sounded, but I couldn’t take them back. Couldn’t un-say them because they were true.
I unlocked my door and went inside.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Dilly
I can’t be your friend. I lay on my mother’s couch and stared at the ceiling for a second night in a row. She’d had another bad night and I’d been the person she’d called, the only person she wanted. It’d taken me two hours to get her calmed down and sleeping and all the time Oscar’s words played on repeat in my brain. I’d lost him. He didn’t even want to be my friend anymore. I was all alone.
I growled at myself. What the hell was my problem? I didn’t need him. I had friends and a job I loved. This was my life, the life I’d chosen. I’d be okay. So, what if Oscar hadn’t answered his door when I’d knocked to see if he could take Buddy for the evening? It didn’t mean he’d abandoned Buddy, too. Even if he had it would be okay. I’d get manage on my own. I’d taken Buddy to Carrie’s and the kids had been thrilled to have him there for the night.
Of course, I’d had to lie to Carrie. I told her I had a work project that would require my total concentration. It had been two days, and no one was talking about my mom. I knew I’d only been granted a reprieve, that I still needed to tell Carrie the truth, but I couldn’t do it with her kids there, with Cody smiling at me like I was a good friend to his wife. I was tired of lying to her, tired of lying to everyone. Just plain tired.
“Dilly,” Mom called. “Dilly. Are you still here?”
I sighed and got up. I felt far older than my twenty-eight years, my body stiff and sore from sleeping on the couch, my head aching from lack of sleep. My heart sore from my break up with Oscar. I shuffled to my mother’s room and opened her door. “I’m here.”
She was sitting up in bed, eyes wide and round with fear, face gaunt. Her bedside light was on, because she couldn’t sleep in the dark. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair was a tangled mess, her face creased from the pillow she’d been sleeping on. Somehow, she looked like an old woman and a child at the same time. I guess in a lot of ways, she was both. Scared of the dark and terribly needy, but frail and feeble in ways children weren’t.
“Don’t leave, Dilly. I need you here.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Momma.”
“Come here.” She opened her arms and I went to her. I sat on the bed next to her and she wrapped her arms around me, her thin, frail arms somehow hugging me so tight. “I had the worst dream, Dilly. You drove to work, and you were in a terrible accident. There was blood and twisted metal. It was horrible. Promise me you won’t drive tomorrow. Promise me you’ll stay here where it’s safe.”
My chest tightened, and I found it hard to breathe. Not because of her weak arms around me, but because of her words. I’d sacrificed so much for her. I’d happily given up my time for her, but I wouldn’t let her lock me up in that apartment. She had nightmares about me dying, I had nightmares about being trapped in the bedroom of my childhood home for three days, of being trapped in that apartment with my mother, her frail, grasping arms pulling me in and keeping me with her forever. “I have to go to work, Momma, people are counting on me. But I promise I won’t drive, okay? I’ll walk, and I’ll be really careful.”
Her arms tightened. “No, Dilly. It’s not safe. I dreamed of a car accident, but the dream could have been a general warning of anything bad. It’s not safe for you to go to work.” I could feel the panic rising in her, knew her well enough to know she was on the verge of an absolute fit.
“Okay,” I lied. “I’ll stay home, but I can’t stay here, Momma. I…I have to get home to…Um, I have to meet the cable guy. He’s fixing my Internet first thing tomorrow morning.” Apparently, once I decided I was sick of lying, my ability to lie took a nose dive.
“Okay, Dilly. But go straight home and don’t leave without saying goodbye. I need to know you won’t leave while I’m sleeping.”
“Of course, Momma. I promise. I’ll wake you before I go.”
Her body relaxed around me and I was able to get her to lay down and go back to sleep. Back out on the couch, I had to admit to myself that she was getting worse and she was only going to demand more of me, only want me to be in that stifling, stale apartment more and more often until I became her, trapped in the apartment, trapped in her fear and paranoia.
I stared at the ceiling and Oscar’s words repeated, like the death gong on my social life, like the end of all romantic possibilities. I knew I was overreacting, that lack of sleep and the dark, silent night were making everything seem worse than it really was, but I couldn’t stop the thoughts. I wondered if that’s how my mother’s problems had started, with midnight fears that overwhelmed her until they stretched into the day.
By the time the sun rose, I was ready to run screaming from my mother’s apartment, but I went to her room. Her face was creased in worry or discomfort, even in sleep, her body curled in the fetal position. I hated to wake her, but she would worry if I didn’t, so I sat on the edge of her bed and smoothed back her hair.
I wondered if she’d done the same for me when I was a child, if she’d sat on my bed and smoothed my hair and wished for me to be happy and healthy. I gripped her shoulder and shook her gently. “Momma, I’m going.”
Her eyes opened only half-way. “Be careful,” she mumbled, her words slurred by sleepiness.
“I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Her eyes slid shut again and her body shuddered, before her breathing eased and became deeper as she fell back to sleep. She had to be exhausted. I stood, and I left her, eager to escape, but also feeling guilty and worried. She was so far from healthy that a fall could trap her on the floor, unable to get to the phone.
Maybe we should consider hiring a live-in nurse. I shook it off. That would be more expensive than the group home, and she’d fight against the idea just as hard.
I shut and locked the door behind me and hurried to my car.
***
“Dilly,” Joe said, stopping in front of my desk. “There’s a group in conference room two who say they’re here to see you.”
I blinked up at him. I’d been working on a schedule of events for the senior center’s fall program and it took me a minute to register what he’d said. Did I have a class I’d forgotten about? I opened my mouth to ask for more information, but he was already walking away.
I checked my calendar but didn’t see anything scheduled. Had I forgotten to put it on the calendar? On the calendar or not, I needed to check it out.
As I hurried up to the second floor and the conference room, my mind reeled with the possibilities, but nothing prepared me for what I encountered. The Tuesday morning book club was seated in a circle in the center of the room. And they’d been joined by Carrie, Aunt Melly, and Lance. “Um, hello,” I said. “What’s going on?”
A hand shoved me into the room and the door shut behind me. I spun to see Mary clicking the lock. “We just want to talk, Dilly. Come in and have a seat.”
This wasn’t good. “I’m still on the clock,” I said. “I need to get back to work.”
“We cleared this with your boss,” Norma Jane said. “An emergency session of the book club. Come in and sit down.”
I didn’t want to sit down. I wanted to get away as fast as I could, but I knew that running away in a small town was never really an option. So, I found a seat, between Betty and Norma Jane, and I folded my hands in my lap. “Is this about the new book? I warned you some of the scenes are graphic, but—”
“This is about your mother, dear,” Mary said, moving to stand in the center of the circle. I glanced at Carrie and she gave me a small, confused smile.
“Did something happen?” I asked. Mom had looked so frail and my heart hiccupped with worry.
“No,” Mary said. “She’s the same as she’s been. Nothing new has happened.”
“Your mother’s sick,” Betty said. “We all know she’s sick, but she’s using her illness to manipulate you, and it’s not right.”
“Betty,” Norma Jane said. “We said we were going to approach this gently.”
Betty snorted. “What’s the sense in that? The girl can’t keep living this way, and she already knows there’s a problem. Why beat around the bush?”
“Wait,” Carrie said. “I thought this was a meeting about getting Dilly and Oscar back together. What’s wrong with your mom, Dilly?”
My heart had frozen in my chest. It was all going to come out now and Carrie would never forgive me. “She’s sick,” I said, the words rough and sharp on the way out. “She’s anxious about her safety and my safety. She’s…She’s weak because she won’t eat the food I bring her. She’s worried that someone might have poisoned it. She won’t leave the house because she’s afraid of what will happen to her. I have to call her six times a day, so she knows I haven’t died in some sort of freak accident. I can’t leave Catalpa Creek, because she needs to know I’m here and safe.” I hadn’t meant to say so much, but once I’d started talking, I couldn’t hold the words back. It was like they needed to get out of me, but I didn’t feel any better once they were out there.
Carrie’s expression changed from confusion to worry and…Hurt. “How long has she been sick?”
“She’s only gotten this bad in the past year or so.”
“How long?” Carrie asked. “How long have you been taking care of her?”
I couldn’t answer. I didn’t want to tell her, didn’t want our friendship to end.
“Dilly’s mother locked her in her room for three days when she was fourteen,” Aunt Melly said. “She wanted to keep Dilly safe. As soon as Dilly could get away, she moved in with me. Her mother has been getting progressively worse since then.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Carrie asked.
“Your sister was killed around the same time,” I said. “You didn’t want to hear about my problems. You didn’t need to be worrying about me.”
She pinched her lips tight. “Okay. But what about after that? What about all the years after that when you didn’t even mention your mother? All the years when you lied to me and said she was doing great and was passionate about her work. Has she even been working?”
“You didn’t want to hear about my problems. I had it under control and I—”
“You’re my best friend,” she said, her eyes glassy. “Why would you lie to me about this? Why wouldn’t you tell me? I told you if I had a hang nail that had been bothering me. Why would you keep this from me?”
“I—”
She waved her hands. “You know what? I don’t want to hear your excuses. I feel like I don’t even know you. What else have you lied to me about?”
I bit my lip, torn between the desire to lie again and the awareness that I had to be honest with her or she’d never speak to me again. “Some of the guys I told you I dated…They didn’t exist. Sometimes, when I told you I’d been out late partying, I’d actually been up all night with Mom. It was small stuff, nothing you—”
“Small stuff?” she said, the tears spilling out of her eyes and down her cheeks. “Small stuff?” She shook her head. “Who are you, Dilly?”
“I’m the same person, except now you know about my stupid baggage and all the depressing drama.”
She placed a hand over her mouth and another over her belly, the tears streaming down her cheeks. She pulled her hand from her mouth to speak. “I can’t…I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.”
She ran from the room, pausing only to unlock the door and let herself out. I stood to go after her, my eyes stinging, my throat tight. “I’ll go,” Lance said. “You need to stay here.” He had every reason to be angry with me, to hate me, but there was only sympathy in his eyes.
I watched him go after my best friend and I sank back onto my chair. I swallowed hard and glared at the women in the room. “Why would you do this to me?”
“Because we need to stop carrying this secret,” Aunt Melly said. “We need to ask for help.”
“We assumed she was aware of the situation,” Mary said. “We wouldn’t have brought her here—”
“She needed to be here,” Aunt Melly said. “She needed to know the truth.”
I hurt. My chest ached, and my throat felt like it had been scraped raw. I’d lost Oscar and now I’d lost my very best friend. Aunt Melly sat there, calm and smiling, like she knew what was best. “That should have been my choice,” I said. “What gives you the right—?”
Her smile faded. “I’m tired of seeing you miserable, Dilly. You’ve given enough to your mother, you should get to live your life and be happy.”
“I wasn’t miserable until you chased off my best friend. I was fine. Everything was fine.” I might have been exaggerating a bit, but I wasn’t about to admit to a roomful of people that she was right, that I was desperately miserable. No one could do anything about it, so why bring them all down?
“Sweetheart,” Mary said. “We all know you’re unhappy. It’s clear every time you frown and your shoulders droop when you think no one is looking. And, even if you are as fine as you claim, you shouldn’t have to take care of your mother alone. You shouldn’t have to carry this burden alone.”
I pulled in a deep breath and tried to remember that they were here because they were worried and wanted to help me. I had a right to be angry with Aunt Melly, but not the rest of them. “I appreciate that, but there’s nothing anyone else can do. When Mom’s upset, I’m the only one who can calm her.” I wanted to crawl under my chair and hide. Not only was every eye in the room on me, but they were digging into the most personal part of my life, prying me open to reveal all my secrets.
“Maybe if you take us to see her,” Norma Jane said. “If we get to know her, we can all help out. We can go to her when she gets upset, we can take her food, we can help you care for her.”
“She needs to be convinced to move to the home in New England,” Aunt Melly said, causing every head to swing toward her. Clearly, there we
re two different agendas for this meeting. “Even this whole room of people won’t be enough to care for her. And none of us can help her to be strong and happy again.”
“She will never be strong and happy again,” I said, voicing my worst fear, one I knew was swiftly becoming a reality. I could see it every time I visited my mother. She was deteriorating and the sadness in her eyes was so deep no one could reach her. “I’ve tried everything I can think of to help her and nothing has worked. She’s never going to accept that she needs professional help, and she’s never going to leave that apartment.”
“We have to try,” Aunt Melly said. “Otherwise, we’re standing by and allowing her to kill herself. Doing nothing is the same as pulling the trigger on a loaded gun she’s pressed to her temple.” Gone was my aunt’s calm facade, her hands were clenched tight and anger flashed in her eyes.
I stood, unable to sit there a moment longer. “You think I’m doing nothing? While you’re in Italy, eating wonderful food and touring museums, I’m stuck here with her. I’m the one who sleeps on the couch and makes sure she’s not alone when she’s scared. I’m the one who holds her while she cries and makes sure she’s eating something and taking her vitamins. I’m the one who calls her six times a day, so she knows everything is all right. I’m not doing nothing. I’m doing everything, giving her everything I have, but it’s never enough, because she never feels safe. I haven’t seen her smile in more than a year and she’s so thin…” I’d lost sight of my point, but the anger was still there, directed at my aunt who wanted to come back from Italy and dictate how things would go. “I won’t do anything that might cause her more hurt.” I looked around the room at the women who attended my book club every week. Their expressions varied from concerned to shocked to sad. “Thank you for wanting to help,” I said. “But there’s nothing any of you can do.”
I walked out of that room, ignoring my aunt who was shouting my name. I was done talking about it. It was time I faced reality. My mother wasn’t going to get well and there was nothing anyone could do to help her.
The Good Guy on my Porch (Catalpa Creek #3) Page 23