Buzz.
Buzzzzz.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I rolled over andslapped my open palm on the nightstand. Then I slapped it again, hoping to findmy cell phone. Fumbling around like a blind zombie for a few seconds, I finallygrappled the thing into my possession and squinted at the time.
Noon.
Ugh.
I flopped on myback with the unanswered phone still in hand. I’d had six hours of sleep. Orsomething like that. Clearly, not enough.
For a second, Istared at my bedroom door and remembered why it had been solateearly whenI finally fell asleep.
Ezra.
Vera. It was Vera’sengagement party and I had celebrated in excess. And everybody knows that whenyou drink too much you’re wired for hours afterward.
Full of energy.
Unable to fallasleep.
Ugh,again.
Despite my sleepystate, urgency to destroy last night’sevidencepaintings poundedthrough me. Like a herd of elephants rampaging on roller skates.
Or maybe that wasmy head?
Either way, I knewI had a mess to clean up—literally and figuratively.
My cell started to buzzagain, and I cursed at the ceiling fan slowly spinning overhead. Instead ofbringing the phone to my face, I rolled over and planted my face on the phone—afterI’d swiped answer of course.
“Hello?” a man said—just kidding, that was me. I said hellowith a man voice because that’s what I sounded like first thing in the morning.
“Molly,” my momsighed into the phone. “I thought you’d been trafficked.”
I rubbed my eyewith my fist. “Huh?”
“Sex trafficked,”my mom clarified. “When you didn’t answer the first time.”
“I, uh,wha?”
“Molly Nichole areyou just now waking up? It’s noon!”
My mother was ashardworkingas they got. She had been a public school lunchlady for thirty plus years, so that meant she was used to being up at hours thatI still considered the middle of the night. She spent her day managing rowdykids for both breakfast and lunch, and then she went home and managed my dadwho was just as bad. She never took sick days or slept in on weekends. Shedidn’t have hobbies or shows that she liked, and didn’t really know how to havefun in any capacity. She worked, and she worked, and she worked.
And she expected meto do the same.
“It’s Saturday,” Icroaked. “My one day to sleep in.”
“Why do you need tosleep in?” she demanded, her voice hardening with concern. When my mother gotnervous she didn’t flutter around like a butterfly afraid to land, she trompedthrough the situation like a dangerous predator that had been threatened withextinction. My mom was not a dainty flower. She was a Tyrannosaurus Rex—lethalexcept for the tiny arms.
“I threw Vera anengagement party last night, Mom. It ended late. I’m tired today.”
“Hungover youmean.” Well, she wasn’t wrong. “But that was nice of you. Vera’s a goodfriend.”
My mom loved Vera.She loved the entireDelanefamily. We’d beenneighbors growing up. Well, my parents and Hank were still neighbors. It wasonly Vera, Vann and me that had moved on.
