“They’re taking care of me.”
“You should have come and stayed with me,” Kelsey suggests as she also blows cigarette smoke out of her mouth and into my face. “I would have kicked my roommate off the couch he rents from me and given it to you. He ain’t pulling his weight anymore anyway.”
That’s Kelsey Grady code for the junkie she is letting crash at her place isn’t sharing his drugs anymore.
“Who did ya give the liver to?” she wants to know.
“Kidney,” I correct. “A friend.”
She scowls. I have a nauseating moment of panic because if she gets angry instead of placated then she will wake up the whole block screaming and carrying on. I don’t want to get her angry. I have to diffuse this.
“Who did you give it to, Jacob?” Her words are slow and clipped, like there’s a period in between each one.
I swallow. “Terra.”
Her face turns more sour than milk a month after its expiry date. “Of course. I knew it’d be one of the lobster people or that rich bitch you date.”
“I haven’t dated Aspen in years, Mother, and if you call her that or insult the Hawkins again tonight, I will call the police on you myself,” I warn, my voice even and calm but dead fucking serious. “I’m tired. It’s late, and if you want to discuss this more I can swing by your place later this week.”
“Okay fine. I’m sorry.” Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. And she almost looks like she means it. She sucks on the cigarette again. “I’d like it if you come by.”
“Okay. I will. In a couple of days,” I promise. I’m not looking forward to it, but I’ll do it.
She nods and smiles. Her teeth are yellow and she’s missing her left eye tooth. That’s new… and horrifying. And a sign her battles with meth might be back. She was relatively clean when I left for King’s Rock. She was off the hard stuff thanks to a court ordered detox and was sticking to weed and booze. “Must have been pretty painful. Your operation.”
“It wasn’t bad,” I say and walk her toward the curb because I don’t want to continue this. “Do you have a ride home? Can I call Uber Jay for you or I can drive you back myself?”
She tips her head back and to the side. My gaze follows, and I see an ancient hatchback parked across the street that used to be white before but is now mostly rust.
“My friend Clarence let me borrow his ride.”
“And you’re okay to drive?” I have to ask even though I know she is going to get pissed off.
She stops walking and frowns. “You always have to play the saint. Nothing ever changes. I’m fine, Jacob. I may not be all high and mighty like that family you’re obsessed with, but I’m able to drive a fucking car. I haven’t had a drink.”
“Okay.”
“What about you?” she asks and her expression changes to curious from annoyed, but it’s off. Like too curious. Eager. “They must have you on some strong painkillers. I bet taking out an organ hurts a lot.”
Oh. Now I know why she’s actually here. I feel disappointment. Of course she wasn’t concerned about me. I should have known. I put my hand on her bony shoulders and walk her across the street to the car. “Not really. I was on some stuff at the hospital but now it’s just ibuprofen.”
“What?” She looks devastated. “I thought for sure they’d send you home with some Oxy or something.”
“Nope.”
“What about the lobster girl?” Kelsey asks. “She must have some good stuff. She’s tiny and sick with that other thing … leprosy?”
“Lupus,” I correct but I don’t know why I’m bothering. “Mom, it’s late. Time to go. I’ll visit you soon.”
“If she doesn’t finish her prescription maybe you can bring me some?” she asks. “I got an awful pain in my back that just won’t go away.” All of a sudden she’s clutching her lower back and hunching over.
“You should see a doctor about that, Mom. The free clinic on Tunis will take you without coverage.”
“They don’t believe me. Incompetent assholes,” she scowls and gives me her version of puppy dog eyes. “But if your friend has some Oxy she won’t even miss a couple tablets. And her doctor would give her more anyway. You want to help your mama don’t you, Jacob?”
Her favorite line. She used to say that to me to coax me to steal her cigarettes when I was young. I was good at it too but on the off occasion I got caught, they didn’t always call the cops. Sometimes they just chastised me and called my mother who promised to punished me, and she did. For getting caught.
“You know there’s a program over in Old Orchard Beach. An outpatient thing you can go to and it won’t cost a cent,” I tell her, my tone calm, firm, and quiet.
