Twist Into Me

by Devon Ashley

  “Tessie, any fool who is shallow enough not to buy flowers from us because you’ve chosen to love the person you’ve fallen for, can go straight to hell in one of my reject wicker baskets. What happened to Brady was an awful accident. And call me crazy, but you wouldn’t be worried about any of this if you weren’t seriously considering Owen for something more.”

  Damn. She was probably right.

  “Get out of my head, you bloomin’ know-it-all,” I weakly teased.

  She held up both hands. “I can’t help that I’m the middleman in everyone’s relationship. It comes with the bloomin’ territory. People drop this drama on my doorstep every bloomin’ day.”

  It was good to see her smile so brightly – the first I’d seen since she’d been admitted – and it made mine curl to match, no matter the stubbornness of those particular muscles.

  “Not to tarnish Brady’s memory any, but Owen was the only one who ever asked about you through the years.” I must’ve looked sad when my head tilted at the thought, because Nana gave me a solemn smile and a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “Doesn’t mean Brady didn’t love you, honey. It just means Owen might’ve loved you first.”

  I spent the next few days shuffling tirelessly between the hospital and home. I posted shorter hours on the shop and left a sign when I was gone stating that people could still order flowers using our web service or by leaving a voice message for callback. I thought for sure Nana would fight me on that, but she agreed that was a reasonable compromise. Secretly, I felt she really did want the company now that she wasn’t sleeping all the time. Which she had plenty of, because Rose, Helen and Clarence were all frequent visitors, up until late Sunday afternoon, when she was finally released from the hospital. I had spent all day with her, waiting and waiting for her to get discharged, playing a continuous game of gin rummy, something we hadn’t done since I was a kid. Sadly, she still kicked my butt.

  It was a relief to finally get her out of that nose-burning antiseptic environment and back home to a bed she could fully rest in.

  When we stepped through the back door, we immediately came across Owen and Matt in denim, sneakers and t-shirts, neither one with a smile to spare. Sheets of plywood were leaned on the wall behind them, one laid out over the island, which was apparently being used as a makeshift work table, an electric saw one of the many tools scattered about. Sawdust lightly covered everything, particles still dusting the air.

  “What happened?” I asked with shock. Nana drew in a loud breath.

  They both looked to one another and grimaced. Owen sighed and removed his gloves, saying, “your mother,” by way of explanation.

  I stepped around the guys and glanced through to the shop floor. The panel of glass on the right hand side had been completely shattered. Two panels of plywood had already been put up, but it was going to need a third to cover the opening.

  “That crazy bitch…” was all I could mutter. I couldn’t believe she’d done that. What the hell?!!

  “We were here when it happened.”

  I turned to see Matt helping Nana take a seat on one of the stools, already looking winded. As Owen continued, I went to the minifridge we kept filled with drinks and got her a water, which she gratefully sipped on.

  “Someone was banging on the door. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her that I didn’t recognize her. Matt went to the door and told her the shop was closed. She started yelling back at him, but her words were so slurred we couldn’t understand her. When I realized it was her, I told Matt to walk away. Next thing we knew she had thrown one of the café’s chairs through the window.”

  “Suddenly she was in here yelling. The café manager was in here yelling,” Matt added, grabbing a soda for himself, leaving another on the counter for Owen. “People were gawking and taking videos through the window.”

  Owen looked at Nana when he said, “Breaking the glass alerted your alarm company, who called the police. They arrested her for destruction of property, breaking and entering, public intoxication, and then when they searched her, they found illegal substances on her too.”

  Nana moaned and buried her face in her hands. I gently stroked her back, praying she wouldn’t get so upset over this she ended up straight back in the hospital. Personally, my mind was so numb I could hardly process what they had told us.

  “She’ll have court in the morning to determine her bond.”

  Nana huffed.

  “Guess who she’ll be calling to do that for her,” I scoffed, starting to feel the anger build inside me.

  Nana slowly emerged from hiding, quietly asking, “I just don’t understand her. My own daughter.”

  I knew where she was going with that. “Stop,” I ordered. “Nana, you didn’t do anything. There was nothing wrong with the life you gave her. She did this to herself.”

  She patted the hand I had on her shoulder and smiled at me, but it was tired and frail.

  “Anyways,” Owen continued, “we’ll have you boarded up soon. I put the information the police left in the kitchen for you. You’ll want to call them and your insurance company in the morning so you can get this glass replaced.”

  “Boys, thank you so much,” Nana said as she got to her feet. She moved to kiss both of them on the cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Owen just shared a silent look with me. Matt answered her kiss with, “No problem, Miss Louise.”

  “I’m just so glad you were here.”

  That made a question pop into my mind, and with a quizzical look, I asked, “Why were you here?” It was Sunday, so no one really needed to man the store. It was why I spent the entire day at the hospital, waiting for Nana to get released.

  Once again the two guys looked at each other, neither quick to express a response.

  “Uh…well,” Owen began, rubbing the back of his neck. He always seemed to rub on something when he was asked to clarify something he wasn’t ready to share just yet. “We had planned on having this done by the time you got home, but it sort of took a backseat once the window shattered.”

  I loved the way he said that. As if the window was responsible for shattering itself instead of my mom. I followed him and Nana along as he waved us on through to the shop. Matt brought up the rear, rolling Nana’s luggage with him. I heard Nana aww before I saw it myself. At the bottom of the stairs was a compact chair on the ground. A long metal railing was secured to the wall that traveled the length of the staircase, all the way to the top. It wasn’t completely put together yet, but I was certain this was going to be one of those chairs that carried the passenger up and down without having to walk.

  “You sweet boys. You didn’t have to do this.”

  Owen simply shrugged, because most likely, putting something together like this was probably incredibly simple for him. “We still had it from when my mother used it at the house. I’m sure your doctor has told you to take it easy, and I’m also sure you have no intention of following that order, so I wanted to make sure you weren’t stressing your heart going up and down these stairs too many times a day.”

  “You sorely underestimate my ability to tie her down to her bed for the next month.” I lightly crossed my arms, giving Nana a serious look when she turned my way.

  “I remember your attempt at tying knots when we went camping,” Owen announced, giving me a playful glare. “My money’s on Louise this round.”

  I had yet to determine if it was convenient or inconvenient that the Taylor County Sheriff’s Office was just two blocks away. An entire county to put the jail and here it was literally in the back yard we didn’t have. My mom had already attempted to call us several times, probably wanting us to bail her out. We denied the call each time when prompted by the jail’s operated calling system.

  I flat out refused to let Nana down the stairs to help me in the shop the first few days, so Rory came over to help between shifts. Turned out she really had a flair for this type of artistic expression. Sarah was back at school, so between th
at and her shift work at the bar, she really only had time to say hello most days. Matt too, who was really busy working construction before the winter months brought tons of snow to slow him down. Owen on the other hand, only had his barn to keep him busy, but remained unseen. And I knew he was only doing it to give me space and time to think. Having to deal with the aftermath of my mom and Nana’s health, I suspected he knew this wasn’t the best time to push me for an answer on us.

  If there was even going to be an us…

  I couldn’t begin to explain what a blessing this break was. I was still confused over the idea of dating him, still trying to determine if it in anyway would be an insult to Brady’s memory. And the fact that I was worried about that told me I still may not be ready to move on just yet. With anyone. And I just didn’t want to feel pushed into giving an answer.

  Nana’s special friend came by several times to keep her company, as did her energetic gossip buddies. So at least I didn’t have to worry about her being bored to death by daytime television. By the end of the week, and after way too many attempted calls by my mom, I decided to sign up for visiting hours at the jail. I was hoping by now she would’ve dried out a bit, and maybe be a little more sane to deal with.

  On Friday afternoon, I waited at one of the four-top tables for her. The room was cool, but the air tasted stale to me. Like it had never been aired out and continuously recycled over and over again. A few other tables were occupied before I got there. A couple here, a couple there. Family of five in the corner and another girl with a newborn visiting an inmate on the other side of me. It was surprisingly quiet for all these people to be in one room, but maybe they were determined to keep their conversations as private as possible. Made me curious to what they each could be discussing.

  A female officer led my mom into the room. She wasn’t chained in any way, but the more I looked at her, the more she didn’t look like she’d have the energy to put up much of a fight one way or the other. Her long hair was tied messily back, her eyes were sunk inside her orbs so much a dark shadow circled all the way around, and her pale skin seemed almost gray and ghostly.

  She was slow to cross the room, like it hurt to walk, and her eyes watched the floor once she knew my location. Her metal chair scraping across the tile was the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. She lazily dragged it out, catching the annoyance of several of the room’s occupants. She dropped heavily into the chair. Exhaustively, she glanced my way, looking like the most pathetic version of herself I’d ever seen – and I’d seen a ton of her lows.

  Her hands fell into her lap, but I could see the way her arms sporadically jumped, how her body shook uncontrollably. I recognized this as one of the symptoms of alcohol withdrawal. I had looked it up to mentally prepare myself. I was also expecting some of the other attributes I was sensing. Irritable? Check. Tremors? Check. Agitated? Of course, but she was that to begin with.

  “I know why you’re ignoring my calls,” she said blandly, but her words skipped up and down like it was shaking.

  “Then why keep calling?”

  She shrugged somewhat lifelessly. “Being locked in a room with a bunch of other women going nowhere, all you can do is hope.”

  “I had hope once. Hope that you’d stop drinking. Hope that you’d be a decent mom and stop dragging my ass from one fly-by-night situation after another. Hope that one day I’d find a better situation.” I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms in a defensive manner. “At least I can say one of those eventually came true.”

  She seemed to find that humorous, her chest puffing outward once with a quiet laugh. Her left hand moved to stroke her eyebrows outward as her face cringed with discomfort.

  Good. I hoped she was still feeling plenty of pain. She’d more than made mine and Nana’s life hell lately. The least she could do was suffer a little for it.

  Frustrated, she rudely asked, “So are you bailing me out or not?”

  I shook my head, though she still had her eyes shut. “Not.”

  Her chest huffed once again. Her hand fell so hard to her lap it slapped the skin of the other. Finding the courage to finally meet my eyes, she said, “I can’t stay here. I need a treatment center.”

  Now it was my turn to derisively laugh. “You wouldn’t go to a treatment center. Your solution is another bottle.”

  “It’s not,” she replied firmly.

  “Please don’t insult my intelligence. I’ve only come today to tell you we won’t be bailing you out. The longer you stay here, the better the chance you’ll dry out.”

  She began shaking her head, more roughly with each one, her lips beginning to purse. “You…” she spat, holding back the rest of what she was going to say. I figured she was trying to remain as calm as possible, not wanting to burn any last bridge of guilt that might get me to set her free. With a pained voice, she whispered, “You have no idea what this is like. The pain.” And by what I researched and the way she said that, I completely believed she was in constant pain.

  “You’re right. I don’t. And you don’t know what it was like to be around the drunken version of you my entire childhood. If you’re looking for sympathy you won’t find it here. Or from Nana.”

  I stood up and looked down on her, but she was no longer meeting my eyes. “I’ve signed the paperwork to have our numbers removed from your calling list. If you’re truly heading to rehab when you get out of here, there’s a chance we might speak to you again. Otherwise…don’t come home. Ever. If you continue this crap moving forward, you’re on your own.”

  I thought she would rage, scream and stomp her foot like she normally did. But either it was too painful or it required too much energy for her to bother. The only other scenario was that she was on the verge of change, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath for that one.

  And because I was a glutton for punishment, I asked, “You’re not even going to apologize for anything, are you?”

  Her blue eyes matched her icy heart when she replied, “What good would it do me? I won’t get anything out of it. You’ll never help me get out of here even if I do. So really, what would be the point?”

  My flat expression stayed firm, but inside I was reacting in a very different way. That little girl inside who wanted nothing more than for her mom to love her and take her into her arms and tell her everything would be okay just burst into tears. Even now the things she did cut me. Even after a lifetime of being burned. “My mom, ladies and gentlemen,” I rudely snipped. “Ruining lives since 1979.”

  I went back to the store and found Nana downstairs working. Figured she’d try that the moment I wasn’t around. Creating arrangements seemed to calm her, so I just exchanged a smile and let her be. I told her visitation went as expected, and sadly, she held as little faith as I did that her daughter would seek help once released. We decided it was best to just let it surprise us if she did.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to forget about my morning. I cleaned the shop, dusting all the nooks and crannies, picking up fallen leaves from the tropicals and ferns for sale, even organized our work stations. Buried deep inside the back of the workroom junk drawer, I found a familiar wooden fish hanging from a key ring.

  “Oh my God.” Nana couldn’t see what I was going on about until I allowed it to dangle from my finger. “I thought I lost it.”

  Nana smiled. She knew exactly what it was and who made it for me. “I found it in the shop when I kicked it across the floor. I wanted to return it to you, but…” She trailed off.

  …but my mom and I disappeared.

  “Sorry. I’d forgotten all about that,” she added.

  “Me, too,” I admitted guiltily. But I’d found it now. And just like the way Owen came back into my life and made me feel whole again, this small trinket warmed my heart. I pocketed it safely away until I was able to go upstairs and transfer my keys over.

  I was restless once Nana had tucked herself into bed for the night. I couldn’t get into the paperback on my night stand or
find anything worth watching. For some reason I couldn’t fathom, I just wanted to get inside my car and drive around. I couldn’t say I was even thinking about anything while I did it. I vaguely paid attention to my surroundings while there were plenty of lights and businesses to distract me, but those patches of darkness afterwards dazed me. I wasn’t sure where I drove or how I maneuvered my way back, but half an hour later I found myself idling in front of the McCoy house.

  Conceding, I sighed and turned off the engine, despite the way my insides nervously fluttered. Apparently even the numbest parts of my mind knew I needed to talk with Owen. It’d been five days since he finished that stair lift for Nana. Five days since he stepped back to give me space. No visits. No phone calls or texts. No questions to be asked through our friends. Just radio silence. I’d like to say I used that time to decide what I wanted, but I hadn’t given it too much thought. Probably afraid I’d overthink it.

  I skipped the house completely and headed for the barn, hearing the saw long before I reached the door. I paused there to lean against the support beam, watching him work diligently as he cut the wood into shape. He was in a plain white t-shirt and jeans that hung perfectly on his hips. I watched quietly from afar, mesmerized by the sawdust swirling in the air.

  When the saw cut off, he swept his gloved hand across the piece, then leaned over to blow on the rest. “I was beginning to think you’d never show.”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  He turned to face me, removing his safety glasses and biting the tip of his first glove to pull them off. “Well you came to the right place because I don’t do too much of that either.”

  I moved to the right and placed my keys on a kitchen table that was pushed against the barn wall. It was a country table with thick decorative legs that were grooved and had a three inch drop off the top with carved flowers all the way around. He had sprayed it white and distressed it to give it an aged look. I rubbed the top of the table with my hand. It was smooth and silky and had been stained to show the grain of the natural wood.