It was only 6:30. Could I make it until nine before I heard his voice again?
Dinner was ready when I got home. The table was set, and both my brothers and Jimmy had washed their hands. I used the same towel as before to squeeze the water from my hair.
“Mandy, you’re soaked,” Mom said.
Jimmy’s stare was fixed on me. My clothes were so wet they stuck to my body, revealing curves I usually tried to hide. I pulled the towel up in front of me to hide the clingy fabric. Jimmy’s smile made me uncomfortable. It forced me to look away from him.
“I’m just going to run upstairs to change into some dry clothes,” I said. Jimmy averted his glance.
A few minutes later, with dry, baggier clothes on, I walked into the kitchen.
“I finally tracked Dad down. He’s coming straight home,” Bryan whispered, as he passed me to get the cheese from the refrigerator.
“Tracked him down? Where was he? Wasn’t he at the shop?”
“Al said he needed to run out for some part or something.”
Mom stirred spaghetti in a large pot on the stove. This whole scene was surreal. Was I in the Twilight Zone? How long would it be before she relapsed? I sidled toward her and inhaled the mouth-watering scent coming from a second pot. Sauce freckled the stovetop. The aroma of spices swirled through the air.
Bryan, Jimmy, Dillon, and I sat down at the table. None of us spoke as Mom gave us each a healthy serving of pasta. Mom made herself a plate just as Dad walked in. He stood in the kitchen archway, astonished by the scene in front of him.
“Hello, Marc,” my mother said, looking over at him.
As if in slow motion, Dad took his seat at the table, his eyes fixed on my mother. He looked at each of us for an explanation. We remained silent. We were afraid to break the spell.
When dinner was over, I shooed everyone out of the kitchen. “I’ll clean up, Mom.”
“That’s okay, Mandy.”
“At least let me help.” I kept my eyes on her, waiting for the alien to burst through her chest and kill us all.
The table was cleared, the dishes were washed, and everything was put away in record time.
My mother yawned. “I’m so tired. I think I’ll go upstairs and get ready for bed.”
“It’s only seven-thirty, Mom.” I didn’t want it to end.
“I know, Mandy, but it’s been a long day for me.” She stroked the back of my hair and gave me the sweet mom-look she used to when I was little. When she pulled her hand away, I noticed the shaking was more pronounced.
“Do you want me to run a bath for you?” I asked.
“No, I’ll be fine.”
My father appeared in the doorway. “How about if I run the bath for you?” he asked. His tone was seductive. My mother smiled.
I hustled into the living room. “Let’s go for ice cream,” I said, loud enough to catch Dillon’s attention.
“Cream, cream,” Dillon shouted. Bryan looked at me.
“They want to be alone,” I whispered, and jerked my thumb behind me at our parents.
Jimmy hit Bryan with the back of his hand and stood up. “Let’s go for ice cream.” At least he got it.
The four of us piled into Bryan’s car, and we ate our ice cream as slowly as you can possibly eat ice cream without it melting all over your arm. I kept checking my watch. It was 8:35. “Okay, let’s go back home.”
“What if… what if they aren’t finished?” my brother asked.
“I’m expecting a call at nine. We’ll be quiet, and you guys will stay in the living room. I’ll stay in the kitchen until it’s safe for me to go upstairs.”
Jimmy and Bryan nodded. Dillon just repeated my last word, “Upstairs.”
Although the light was off in my parents’ bedroom, the flicker through the sheer living room curtains told me that Dad was watching television. The four of us crept into the house in a close group, as if we were one giant, multi-legged creature.
Dad didn’t turn to look at us from his recliner. “She’s sleeping.” His voice was flat.
Bryan and Jimmy found their usual places on the couch.
“Dillon, get ready for bed,” I said. Without further prompting, he walked up the stairs. “What happened?” I asked my father.
“She was tired. She went to sleep.”
I made sure nothing was out of place in the kitchen before heading to my room. I peeked in on Mom, who was indeed sound asleep in her bed. I tucked Dillon in, turned his television on to the Cartoon Network, and then grabbed my things for bed. The clock read 8:56. I sat on my comforter and waited for the phone to ring.
At 9:22, I gave up and went into the bathroom. I showered and brushed out my hair. When I got back to my room, the clock said 9:44. I hope he didn’t get into trouble when I saw him earlier.
Disappointment mounted when I noticed the clock said 10:20 at my next glance. It finally stopped raining. I turned out my light and stared at the moon through the window from my bed. I didn’t like waiting now that I knew what I was missing. A tear rolled down my face and onto my pillowcase before I fell asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Still in my pajamas, I shuffled into the kitchen and made Dillon his breakfast. Bryan and Jimmy replayed the same scene they had the day before. Bryan pushed down on Jimmy to wake him, and then leaned against the sink to sip his coffee, while Jimmy added tons of sugar to his. This time, Bryan didn’t rush out. We all marveled at what we had experienced with Mom the night before.
“Think she’s still sober?” Bryan asked.
I shrugged. “I hope so.”
Bryan finished his coffee, put his cup in the sink, and shook the amazement off with a small twitch of his head. He slapped a hand to Jimmy’s back. “Let’s go. I don’t wanna be late. I need to keep on track so when it’s time for my review, the store manager will think of me for a promotion.”
Jimmy got up and placed his cup in the sink as well.
When they left the house, I checked on Dillon, who was watching his cartoons in the living room. Then I went upstairs to get dressed. The sun was out, but I was hoping I’d spend another surreal day with my mother.
When I opened the bathroom door, she was leaning against the wall. The aroma of alcohol hung in the air around her. One of her hazel eyes was squeezed shut while she worked to keep the other open enough to get her through the hallway.
My eyes opened wide. “What happened?”
She barely lifted her face. “Shhhh, don’t talk so loudly.”
I shook my head and as soon as she closed the bathroom door behind her, I ran into her room and searched every drawer, under the bed, in the closet, and on the outside of the windowsill, remembering the last time I raided her room, she’d hid the bottle there. Nothing. Where could it be?
She returned to the room as I straightened her blanket. Her nightgown fell off one of her shoulders.
“I’ll help you get dressed, Mom.”
“No!” she yelled. “Get the hell out of my room.” She crawled into bed. Before laying her head down on the pillow, she pulled a small bottle of Jack Daniels from inside the pillowcase. I smacked my forehead with the heel of my hand. The pillows. I never checked there. But where’d it come from? It wasn’t there when I changed the sheets last. Thinking I could ease it away from her, she fought me when I tried. She pointed a finger toward the door. “Out!”
“Where’d you get this?” I asked, pointing to the bottle. I knew I had done a sweep of the house. Again, she ordered me out of the room. Knowing I couldn’t win, I obeyed. My shoulders were heavy, like I was carrying a huge weight down the stairs. The phone rang. I jumped to get it, expecting to hear Rob’s voice on the other end. But it wasn’t him. It was Jennifer.
“Hey, Mandy. It’s Jennifer. Is Bryan there?”
“No, Jennifer. He went to work at Burger Hut today. Sorry.”
“I have the day off and thought he’d want to get together. I guess I’ll have lunch at Burger Hut today.” There was a pause. I thou
ght I heard the gears of her mind churning through the phone. “Say, Mandy, would you like to go to the mall? The Clothing Corral is having an end-of-summer sale.”
“But it’s only the end of July,” I said. Was she asking me to spend a girly day with her? No doubt to get some intel on Bryan. Remembering my closet purge and the promise to buy prettier replacements, I agreed to go with her against my better judgment. Anything had to be better than staying home with my mother, now that she’d returned from the Twilight Zone. “Um, sure, Jennifer. Who couldn’t use more summer outfits?”
“Great! I’ll pick you up at eleven.” Then she hung up.
After collecting some of my birthday money from my secret hiding place, I noticed it was only 9 o’clock. The horn from Dillon’s bus honked, and he collected his lunch box and raced out the door. I waved to the matron before closing the door. Then I paced the living room trying to figure out where my mother got the booze. I couldn’t sit inside. Mom was in her alcoholic coma upstairs, and everyone else was out of the house, but I didn’t know where to go. Grabbing my sketchpad, I plopped down on the porch steps and began drawing the white daisies in the flowerbed next to me.
Nearing completion of the scene, I looked up to discover Rob standing at the foot of the walkway. His feet were spread apart, and one hand was behind his back. I wanted his strong arms to embrace me and never let go. Even though I was disappointed that he hadn’t called the previous night, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling when I saw him. I tossed my art supplies to the side and jumped up from the step. He walked forward to meet me, but I beat him more than halfway. My body crashed into his. My arms found his neck. One of his arms curled around my waist. I didn’t wait for him to initiate. My lips pressed against his and I kissed him as if I hadn’t seen him in years.
“Wow! I guess that answers whether or not you’re angry that I didn’t call.” Both of his dimples were present. Being in the same air space with him melted me. From behind his back, he brought his arm forward. I stepped back, and a beautiful bouquet of wild flowers filled the gap between us. “Matt never gave me a break last night, so I couldn’t call. I worked until seven this morning. I wanted to call when I got home, but I didn’t think your family would appreciate the phone ringing until a more decent hour.” He looked down at the space between his feet. I cradled the flowers in my hands. They smelled wonderful. “I haven’t even been to sleep yet. I counted every minute until I thought it would be all right to come over.” He looked at me. “The flowers were to help me earn your forgiveness.”
My hand reached up and touched his cheek. “There’s nothing to forgive. I knew there had to be a good reason why you didn’t call.” I took another deep whiff of the flowers. “Come inside. I have to put these in water. I’ll make you breakfast.” Without waiting for an answer, I grabbed his hand, pulled him past the abandoned art supplies, and into the house. I walked straight to the kitchen, grabbed a crystal vase from the cabinet, and then carefully arranged the flowers in it. After another sniff, I moved the vase to the middle of the table. “Can I make you some pancakes or eggs or something?” I asked.
“No, thanks. I had some cereal before I left the supermarket.”
“I wan sur-al, too.” My heart stopped when I realized who was speaking. Standing in the kitchen archway was my mother. The neck of her thin pink nightgown hung off her shoulder low enough that, any further, and Rob would have known my mother very intimately. Her chocolate brown hair was wild and unkempt. The fragrance of the flowers mixed with the smell of Mom’s liquor. She clutched the bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand, and hung onto the wall with the other.
I looked at Rob. My jaw dropped. I ran to her, trying desperately to turn her around and get her upstairs before Rob could figure out that she was drunk.
“Wha-ar-yew-doin’?” she asked, in a barely comprehensive garble, as she tried to shoo me away.
“Come on, Mom. Let’s get you back to bed. You’re still not feeling well.” I looked over my shoulder. Rob’s eyes were wide and his mouth agape. Using my body to block as much of the scene as possible, I ushered her out of the kitchen. It was one thing for Jimmy to see my mother like this—he had practically grown up in this house and knew all of our secrets—but it was mortifying to have Rob see it. Mom lowered her resistance and allowed me to help her up the stairs, back into her room. I laid her in bed and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. When I left the bedroom, I kept the door open a crack, just so that I could hear any future movement. Taking the bottle, I emptied the contents down the bathroom sink, and tossed it into the wastebasket.
At the bottom of the stairs, I took a deep breath and prepared myself with an excuse for my mother’s behavior. Rob was near the refrigerator when I entered the kitchen. “Rob, I’m sorry you had to—“
His mouth was on mine, kissing me hard. I reciprocated, only gasping every once in a while for air. Our dance caused us to move until my back was up against the refrigerator. His kisses fueled me. His lips moved to my neck, driving me to a place I’d never been before. The refrigerator door handle pushed into my back. I winced as I tried to shift my body.
“I’m sorry. I’m hurting you.” He backed off.
“Are you crazy? It was the handle of the door. I was enjoying every minute of that. You didn’t have to stop.” His body relaxed. He wore half a smile. The uneasiness didn’t give way. “I’m serious. You weren’t hurting me. But…”
“What?”
“What did I do to deserve being kissed like that? I need to know what to do next time.” I smiled.
He looked down. “I wanted to kiss the pain away.”
“The pain? I’m not in pain.”
“Aren’t you? Your mother…”
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I pulled away from him and sat at the table. He took the seat next to me. “I was hoping you wouldn’t find out about her, at least not yet, but I can’t lie to you and pretend that I’m not embarrassed by my mother’s choices. She’s been like this for a long time. Yesterday was an anomaly. I’m glad that was the day you actually got to meet her.”
“Are you sorry that I know?”
I wanted to skip the whole conversation and just have him kiss me the way he had just done, but I knew I’d have to have this conversation sooner or later.
“Yes.” I hesitated and changed my answer. “No.” My eyes found his. “I think I would have tried to make excuses for her, but really there are none. It’s better if you know the truth.” I wrestled with the right words. I waited for him to politely excuse himself from my life. I had his attention. “She went into a depression when Cassandra died. My grandmother had to move in to take care of Bryan and me so my dad could keep the garage going. Mom found that alcohol numbed the pain. She’s not a violent drunk, at least not all of the time, but she can say mean things. It progressed slowly. When Bryan and I were two, she went for counseling and attended AA meetings regularly, according to Dad. After six years, she regained herself. Then she and my dad found out that they were going to have another baby. Dillon was like the restart of her life.”
Sunlight came in from the window and bounced off the table. I stared at it. It helped me focus. “Sometimes Bryan and I were jealous that Mom was spending more time with Dillon than with us. We used to complain to each other about it all the time.”
I looked at Rob. He was absorbing every word. “When Dillon was four, Mom noticed he wasn’t hitting his toddler milestones. I think she felt guilty for not being there for Bryan and me, so she was very involved with every moment of Dillon’s life. She and Dad took him to a developmental pediatrician. Dillon was evaluated, and a pediatric neuropsychologist told them he is autistic.”
Rob interrupted. “That’s right. You told me that’s why you want to study neuroscience.”
I nodded. “Mom relapsed. At first, it was just wine with dinner. Then it was once in the morning to steady her nerves so she could get Dillon onto the bus. He used to have bad meltdowns before school. Then it was another
glass before he came home. She graduated to Jack Daniels and Smirnoff. Now, the glass is rarely empty. Sometimes it’s straight from the bottle. I do a regular sweep of the house to try to find all of her hiding places, but she always has new ones. I’ve begged her to go to counseling, or to talk to the doctor. Dad is no better; he buys it for her on a regular basis. I can’t walk past the liquor store without Mr. Villis looking at me, because he knows our family’s secret. I think Dad has just given up trying to get her to stop. Unfortunately, he’s enabling her.”
“I’m sorry.” His finger stroked my cheek. I closed my eyes, as if his touch could erase the pain of my family.
“Yesterday,” I continued, “I actually got her to go most of the day without having anything to drink. We watched television and looked through old photo albums. It was so normal, but scary.”
He reached for my hand. His touch was warm and assuring. “I wish I could make it better.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know what it feels like to lose someone you love. My parents were taken quickly, but it’s different for you. You’re watching your mother slowly kill herself. I don’t want you to hurt.”
“I never had anyone else to talk to about any of this. Bryan is always running somewhere, and Dad is never home. Dillon is in his own world, and my only friend moved away years ago.” Part of the hole deep inside of me felt as if it were closing by sharing all this with Rob. “Can I tell you something without you thinking I’m strange?”
“Try me,” he said.
I looked into his eyes. “I never knew how unhappy I was until I met you. I mean, I don’t mind taking care of Dillon, or cooking and cleaning up after my Dad and Bryan. I don’t even mind mothering Bryan’s friend, Jimmy. But, it’s always been about what they needed. I never thought about what I needed, what I wanted. That day I saw you behind the deli counter was when I knew what I was missing. I knew what I wanted.”
The lines of concern on his face softened. With my hand still in his, he stood up from the table. He tugged on my hand, and I did the same. Then he pulled me toward him. My heart rate quickened. I waited anxiously for his lips; instead, he held me in his arms. It was better than a kiss.
Fractured ( Fractured #1) Page 12