“Didn’t drive.”
She nodded. Most mothers would inquire why their son had been out for an afternoon run in the cold and ice, or question the event that had obviously led to tears. “Make me a sandwich.”
On my way to the kitchen, I glanced into the bathroom and noticed a pair of stained men’s underwear by the toilet. They hadn’t been there yesterday, so Clayton had spent the night again. I shuddered to think why he had left his underwear here instead of putting them on.
Making Rose’s sandwich made me feel better. It felt familiar. Nothing was different here. As much as I wished my mother would turn into someone else, there was a safety in knowing what I could expect. Maudra was right. I knew who my mom was. I could accept it or move on. She wasn’t going to change. At this moment, that was a beautiful thing, and I took comfort from it.
As she ate, I put the bed sheets in the old wash machine. I started to close my eyes as I tore the sheets from the bed, but then realized that could end up being more disturbing than actually seeing what might be on the sheets. The wash machine shook and made its proverbial whirling sound. I leaned against it and let myself get lost in the erratic rhythm.
“So Clayton was over last night.” Her voice sounded too friendly, and I begrudged the interruption of the safe little universe the washing machine had provided.
“Yeah, Mom. I noticed. You might want to tell him to wash his underwear.”
Sheignored my advice. “He normally doesn’t talk too much. That’s not why he’s over here.”
I shuddered and didn’t attempt to hide the repulsion on my face. I walked closer to her so she didn’t have to try to crane her neck around to see me; it looked uncomfortable. Most of the time, she didn’t find it necessary to address me directly. I could handle talking about Clayton if it meant we could have a cordial conversation.
She looked at me sweetly. “Did I ever mention that Clayton is Iris’s brother?”
Unexplainably, I missed where she was leading. “Oh. No, I didn’t know Iris had family here anymore.”
“She didn’t used to. Clayton only moved back here a year or so ago. He moved in with her.”
I couldn’t imagine what Iris thought of her brother staying the night with my mother, as much as she openly despised Rose.
“He had very interesting news from his sister for me when he came over last night.” Her smile sweetened.
Dully, my brain caught up with where this was heading.
Not here. Not today. I forced myself not to run again. Of course here, of course today. Was there ever any other option?
“Did you know they have family in Denver?”
I looked into her eyes, not blinking.
“Well, maybe you did. I didn’t know until he told me last night.” She put her good hand over her withered one and leaned forward like she was gossiping with an old girlfriend. “He told me that Iris learned some very interesting news about you.”
She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, her slur making the venom of her words more pronounced. “I knew it. I told you. I told everybody. Little boys aren’t safe around you.” She leaned back in the recliner and returned her voice to its normal level, a smug smile across her face. “I knew there was a real reason you came back here. It was never about me.”
I think we stared at each other for several minutes. Even then, I was surprised to hear my voice without waver or anger. It was flat, dead. “I haven’t been helping you since your stroke. All I’ve been doing is cleaning your house. You said so yourself. Tomorrow I will call and find someone who will come out every day to check on you and clean a little.” I made it to the door and turned back around. “If you ever want to talk to me, I will be at Maudra’s or you can send word through whoever I get to clean your house.”
I looked at her, trying once more to see something there, something that said she loved me, something that was silently pleading with me not to go. Something.
All I saw was the tiniest flash of surprise. I think she could tell this time was different. It was gone as quick as it had come, and she smiled her derisive smile at me again.
“Good-bye, Mother.”
Itwas after five when I finally arrived back at Maudra’s. Jed wouldn’t be home for another couple of hours or so; he had a late afternoon class on Fridays. In an effort to avoid Main Street, I went in through Maudra’s side door, which led into the kitchen. If I’d have gone in the normal way, I would have seen the car parked in front of her house. As it was, I stopped in surprise when I saw Maudra sitting with a man at the kitchen table. She looked furious, her face red and her fists clinched.
The minute the door opened, the man turned around and stood. Without a doubt, he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. He looked to be in his midforties. He was tall and muscular. Standing next to him, both Donnie and Pastor Bron would only look a little above average. I had already stepped through the door, so it was too late to turn around and flee; however, I was stunned enough by his appearance that I didn’t move forward either.
“Brooke, why don’tcha jist go upstairs, ’n’ I’ll finish up here. You don’t need ta worry ’bout nothin’.”
The man ignored Maudra, a fact that was also unnerving. No one ever disregarded Maudra. “You’re Brooke Morrison?”
I nodded dumbly. He looked enough like Clark Kent, without the nerdy glasses, that a part of me was afraid he was a reporter for the town’s newspaper, here to get the scoop on the child molesting youth pastor.
His voice was full of controlled anger. “Where do you get off telling my son he’s gay? You have no business trying to brainwash my son. You have no business in his youth group at all!”
