I should probably be insulted by that, but her point is valid. Ducking into the bathroom, I slide the yellow pair off and slip on the red. Dammit she was right.
“You were right,” I confess, even though feeding her massive ego is never a good thing. “Look at these stems. Trust Harry to deliver an elongation revelation.”
“Harry and me. Hey, that’s got a nice ring to it. Also, speaking of rings, imagine if you and Plum got married, and me and his sister got married. We could have a double wedding.” I stop flexing my calves in the mirror and lock eyes with Cherry.
“Okay, so let’s grab that thought, and dissect it a little. One, I am never, ever going to get married. Two, James and I aren’t fucking, or dating, yet alone engaged, and thirdly, last time I checked, you weren’t queer.”
“True, but if anyone could make me consider it, an intelligent, sexy blonde like Faith Plum could.”
“Wait?” I drop the crop sleeveless tee I’m holding to my chest. “How do you even know what she looks like?”
“Ahh, there’s this little thing called the internet. And phones have these apps, and you can find and stalk people like professors and plump-assed physiotherapists via them.”
Oh good lord.
“Please tell me you didn’t follow and like.”
“Okay, I didn’t.”
“You did, didn’t you?”
“Little bit, yeah.”
“Cherry!” Sweeping her daughter off the bed, she’s halfway out of my room, laughing like a possessed hyena when the heavy thud of the front door silences us both. Mom has been going AWOL anytime she suspects Cherry and I will be home. Everywhere you look, lies evidence she’s been here, meals cooked and packed in the fridge, laundry folder atop the dryer, notes to say Miffy’s been walked, but neither Cherry or I have laid eyes on her since news of the mortgage debacle broke.
Last night, we set a trap for her bringing Pops in as an unknowing accomplice. I told him I had to be at the Bears car wash by eight, and Cherry had a shift starting at nine. Worked like a charm. She may abandon her grown children, but never Billie.
As quiet as Cherry and I can be, we sneak down stairs, me tossing on my cropped tee as I go, Cherry plastering a hand over her mouth to stem her giggles. For a beat or two, all is quiet, then distinct Mom sounds drift up from the kitchen. “Remember, it could be Pops,” Cherry warns. “No jump scares. We don’t want him dropping dead on us.”
“It’s not Pops,” I whisper. “Listen, she’s humming ABBA. Pops hates ABBA.”
Cherry freezes. “How do you recognize ABBA after like two bars and from here?”
“Hello!” I pop my hip and poke at my exposed belly button. “Feel free to apply stereotypes in this instance.”
We make it to the kitchen just as Mom hits the bridge ofHoney Honey.
Called it.
“Play it cool, sis. We don’t want to scare her off. She may be old but she’s quick and close to the back door.”
“Right.” Cherry nods, placing Billie in her baby-jail. About three seconds later, she leaps through the archway screaming, “MOMWHERETHEFUCKHAVEYOUBEEN?” The poor woman drops her still steaming cup of coffee and does indeed make a break for the door. I’m younger and faster, and beat her there. Cherry remains where she is, so now she’s trapped.
“We know you’re a proud, independent woman, but we also know about the mortgage,” I say.
“And we want to help,” adds Cherry. “But you have to be honest and tell us everything.”
We say with perfect twin synchronicity that makes me cringe. Looking eerily similar to a meerkat, Mom’s head twitches back and forth between us, before she deflates and collapses onto a stool. In all my life I think I’ve seen Mom cry maybe five times, so when tears descend down her cheeks, the same happens on mine.
“Your dad left me with so much debt. Every month for years I had to decide what bill I could afford, but the longer I took to pay things off, the more interest accrued. Eventually I couldn’t keep up, so I found a mortgage broker on Craigslist. I’d never heard of balloon payments. I didn’t understand and now … I just never wanted you to know.”
Cherry and I crowd around, then fold over her like petals closing over a bloom at dusk. “We can help you Mom. You just have to let us. If you hadn’t been hiding you’d know I got a job and?—”
“No.” With surprising strength, she pushes us off her and stands. “That’s enough. Next year you’ll be gone and I’ll have no say in what you do. But this year you’re mine, and you have school and hockey, and that’s it. No job.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Sorry to muff your huff, but I really like what I’m doing and even if I wasn’t getting paid, I’d work as a volunteer.”
“Pfft,” Cherry scoffs, “wonder why.”
