The silence hung heavy on the other end of the line for a full count of five. I know, because Timmy was on the floor beside me, counting the writhing little critters as they wriggled on the concrete.
“Um, no?”
“Maggots, Allie. The outside pantry is teeming with maggots!”
“Ew!”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, that about sums it up. I opened the doors to get one of the cases of green beans and a bazillion of the creatures practically leaped out at me.”
A slight exaggeration, as only a few had squirmed off the shelf. But it had seemed like a bazillion at the time. As far as I was concerned, one maggot was one too many.
As a rule, I’m not squeamish. I’ll put up with all sorts of things. I’ve shoved my finger through eyes to expel demons. I’ve changed the dirtiest of diapers. I’ve scraped dishes that my teenager forgot about in her bedroom for over three weeks, not to mention half-finished fast food milkshakes that had solidified into some sort of concrete-like substance.
I’ve even tackled a bathtub ring so intense I actually considered a full bathroom remodel because it would be an easier job.
But I do not—not—deal well with bugs. Especially bugs of the slimy, wriggling variety.
“Um,” Allie began. “Was it that roast?”
I tilted my head, both annoyed and a little bit proud. Annoyed that she so clearly knew the source of the problem. Proud that she confessed.
“I would say yes, but I’d have to guess since I’m not going to get close enough to be sure. How is it thatyou’reso certain?”
“I, um, might have gotten distracted unpacking the groceries you got for Eddie.”
We’d gone shopping before leaving for Rome. Stuff for the freezer and dry goods for the pantry. One call from a boy—because I’m certain it was a boy—and her mind turned to mush, and a roast ended up defrosting in the pantry. For almost amonth.
Seriously, we might just have to sell the house.
“Tomorrow,” I said. “You’re cleaning tomorrow.”
“I know, I know. I will. I’m sorry! But, um, will you help me?”
“Not in a million years.”
“But—”
“Maggots, Allie. I really and truly do not do maggots.”
“Fine. Can I ask Mindy? Or Daddy?”
“You can hire a cleaning service with your allowance money for all I care. I just want to be able to get the Odyssey out of the garage without the floor squishing under my shoes.”
“Ewww. Mom. Gross.”
“That, my darling daughter, is my point.”
“Can I go now? Aunt Laura made pasta.”
Bile rose in my throat at the very thought, but I managed to keep it together. “Sure, go on. But tomorrow, you clean.”
“Love you, Mom. And I’m sorry.”
I melted at the unprompted affection. “Love you, too, baby. Have fun.”
“Will do. Kiss Timmy for me.”
And just like that, I melted a little bit more.
