by Lari Smythe
* * *
The engine hadn't even stopped before Mom was out the front door, racing toward the Jeep, drizzle or no drizzle.
"Oh, my God! Oh, my God! It's so wonderful to hold you in my arms again," she cried.
"Well, it's nice to see you too." The first thing I noticed was how warm and soft and human she felt. I was so used to being with Izzy that another human felt—well, weird. We were getting drenched, and it didn't look like Mom was letting go, so I pried her arms from around me, grabbed my stuff and we headed inside.
"You look better than I expected," she said, patting her hair with a dish cloth. "You always sounded so exhausted on the phone—I was really worried about you."
"I know it was difficult, but thanks for letting me go get her."
"Where is she?" Mom said, apprehensively.
"I took her home—she insisted—she said she had some things to straighten out with her mother."
Mom nodded. "I imagine she has some explaining to do. Is she alright?"
"I think so."
"You don't sound very sure."
"I was, but the closer we got to home—well, she kind of got quiet—you know, withdrawn."
"Well, I'm sure it was just nerves," Mom speculated. "And the two of you?"
"We're good."
I didn't miss Mom's momentary frown.
"She's important, Mom, maybe even more so now."
"Jason, you didn't take advantage—"
"Whoa, whoa, take a breath, it's me, you know I wouldn't do that."
"I should hope not, your father and I raised you better than that."
"Yeah, you and Dad."
"Did I say something to upset you?"
"No, nothing like that." I just couldn't shake the image of Dad as a vampire. Mom could never know—I knew that—but it wasn't fair to let her hold on to false hope. "Do you ever think about him?" I said, hesitantly.
"I say a prayer every night before I go to bed."
"You don't think—"
"I'd be lying if I told you I didn't hope he'd walk through that door one day," She put her arm around me. "But I know that's not going to happen—not after all this time."
She leaned back, cocking her head to the side inquisitively. "What brought this on?"
I shrugged, not wanting to lie to her.
"Well, I'm sure you miss him, the two of you had a special bond."
"Do you remember that dear he shot—the big one?"
She nodded. "Yes, he had a bit of a temper at times—I think it was his competitiveness." She thought for a moment. "I wish he could have seen you and Izzy together."
I had nothing for that—obviously I couldn't tell her he did and we killed him. "Well, looks like the rain stopped. I should check on the house, make sure everything is battened down for winter."
"That'd be nice. I did what I could remember, but it's been a long time since we had to think about winter. I'm going to make Thanksgiving supper. Will Izzy be joining us?"
"No, not tonight." I headed out the backdoor.
There really wasn't a lot to do, but I put away the screens, raked the leaves, and tossed the hose in the shed. I put some of that red, liquid gas stabilizer in the lawnmower and figured that was about it. Afterwards, I found myself wandering down to the creek behind the house where Izzy and I hung out. I could picture us there, standing in the water—I was freezing—and then her lame excuse for being there. Then there was her expression when I showed her the strange picture that I'd taken in the woods "You know—" I walked back to the house.
"Hey Mom!" I yelled in through the backdoor. "I'm going to drive down to the river if that's alright."
"Okay," was her response, but she appeared at the backdoor before I got to the Jeep. "Haven't you had enough driving for awhile?"
I laughed, I hadn't thought of it like that. "Yeah, just wanted to check it out."
"You sure you two are alright—you're acting like—"
"We're fine, Mom, honest."
"Okay then—be careful, the temperature is dropping, it could get icy." She let the door close gently, but stood there until I pulled away.
Was it that obvious?