“I get it, baby girl.”
Jackie was sitting at the slider, cigarette out the door, but the smoke wafted in anyway.
“And just because I’m going does not mean you can smoke in the bedroom or the living room, got it?”
“You’re so bossy. I got it.”
“I’m all packed. I’m going to get moving.”
“It’s kind of sneaky that you’re doing this while your friends are all at the gazebo thing.”
J.J. agreed. It was sneaky. But she didn’t want them to talk her out of it. “I know. It's just for a little bit.”
“You take what you need, don’t worry about the old house. It’ll be here when you get back.”
“Not if you burn it down with these things.” J.J. took the cigarette out of her mom’s hand and snuffed it out in the empty Coke can her mom was using as an ashtray.
“Ugh, boss, boss, boss.” Her mom hugged her. She smelled of White Rain hairspray and Virginia Slims. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell. Actually, it was just Jackie.
“I’ll text you when I get there.”
“Sure, okay. And the boys, they know?”
“Yep, my kids are all living their lives. They don’t need to worry about me dropping my basket for a bit.”
“You remember when I dropped my basket after that dirtbag hit me?”
“Yeah, a little bit,” J.J. lied. She remembered everything, but what good would it do to make her mom feel bad about that water under the bridge?
Jacqueline Pawlak was a heart breaker in her youth. But she’d been on the other end of it too, too many times to count. Her wacky mom was a survivor.
“Okay, okay. I love you, sugar.”
“Love you too, Jackie.” J.J. kissed her on the cheek.
That’s where I’ll leave her. It’s peak Jackie, with that cig, thought J.J.
Her mom was sitting in the kitchen Dean had remodeled, at the table he’d fixed when it was wobbly. J.J. walked out the screen door he’d patched when the boys put a baseball bat through it.
She could go on and on. The light he installed over the porch. The driveway he sealed. It was endless. And it was overwhelming. The memories of their life together were lovely, mostly. They’d had their share of trouble, especially those first fifteen years.
She remembered picking him up, at the lockup. Oh, boy did they fight after that.
Her life was in that house. Her messy wonderful life. But things had taken a turn for the tragic. She needed out.
J.J. got in the car. Dean had the oil changed just a few weeks ago.
“What do you think the red light means?” He’d asked her when he’d seen it on.
“It means, tell Dean, when you think of it.” She was notorious for ignoring her check oil light. Dean handled it.
She would need to skirt downtown and the celebrations that were underway. It was sweet, dedicating the gazebo. She knew her friends wanted her there. Dean probably would too.
J.J. pulled out of the driveway.
Her mind went back.
She thought about the first time she laid eyes on the big lug of a man, Dean Tucker.
