Sutton grips my arm when I step onto the single stair leading in. “Shouldn’t we wait for her?”
“Nah.” I shake my head. “I just like to offer a bit of warning, just in case.”
A furrow dents her forehead, but she doesn’t comment further. We enter the dimly lit room in silence. I ignore the foul odor of rotten eggs that assaults my nostrils. My stride falters when I catch sight of my mother sitting on the couch, a wide smile aimed at us. Talk about a rare bout of lucidness. I could trick myself into believing this person is a stranger. The flash of grotesquely decaying teeth provide damning evidence on the contrary.
I dredge up my voice. “Ma?”
“Hey, boy.” She straightens against the cushions.
“You okay?”
She angles toward us, her expression warming another degree. “Of course. What’re you doing here?”
I blink at her. Once more to be sure the sight in front of me is real. She’s still there, awake and grinning. I’m seeing this clearly. Her question worms its way into my mind.
“Brought you some food.” The bags I’m holding suddenly weigh a hundred pounds. I heft them higher and carry the loot into her kitchen.
Sutton follows my shaky gait. “All good?”
I shrug. “Uh, yeah. This isn’t the sight that usually welcomes me.”
“But she’s alright?”
“Guess so.” I peer over Sutton’s shoulder. My mom is staring at us with a shrewd gaze. The typical glaze is absent, leaving a spotless view of her green eyes. I’m well versed on how to handle the woman who occupies this trailer. This seemingly pleasant version is a foreign concept.
She lifts her wrinkled chin at me. “Whatcha whispering about in there? Come sit down, boy. Bring your friend.”
I grab Sutton’s hand and thread our fingers together. We shuffle to the couch with obvious hesitation shackled to our ankles. I draw us to a halt a few feet from where she sits. My mother tsks, blowing some wispy strands off her face.
“I’m not gonna bite, kid. Don’t be such a chicken shit.”
That sounds familiar. I release a suspended breath. Her words, harsh as they might be, soothe the bite of unease nipping at my heels.
I spend a moment studying her, attempting to peel away the superficial layers. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like roadkill, not that it’s any of your concern.” Her gaze skips to Sutton. “Who’s this?”
“My girlfriend.” I tuck her behind me on instinct.
Her eyes remain locked on Sutton. “You Barry’s girl?”
She nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t bother with that formal shit.” My mother shakes a boney finger at her.
Sutton’s gulp is audible. “S-sorry.”
“No reason to apologize. We just aren’t too fancy in these parts. Isn’t that right, Grady?”
Her underlying meaning is a dirty film coating my skin. I scrub at the residue it leaves behind. Getting a clean break from this snake pit is a lost cause. But there’s no sense responding to her cutting remarks. My mother should know I won’t stoop. She tosses me a haughty sneer regardless.
“Such a puss,” she accuses. “Not sure what this beauty sees in you.”
Sutton gasps and clutches the fabric of my shirt in a tight fist. I grind my molars until a deafening crack pops the silence. “That’s our cue to go. Enjoy the food. Make sure to eat something.”
“Now, now, don’t be getting all pissy. I’ll behave.” The smile she plasters on is brittle. Being nice and respectful has never come natural for her.
I almost call bullshit. This woman has never asked me to stick around longer than necessary. She’s probably ramping up to beg for some cash. Bummer for her, I’m fresh out. I fold my arms and widen my stance. “Why? So we can have a friendly chat?”
