Chapter 1
My daddy always said he was keeping his mother’s house in East Texas in case somebody in the family was ever “down and out.” Though my family moved away from the town, Daddy wanted to keep that stake in Robin Creek. I always thought Uncle Sherman, with his gambling habit, or Cousin Gail, with her failed multilevel marketing schemes, would be the first one to desperately need a roof overhead after Daddy died two years ago.
But despite having checked off all the prescribed boxes for optimal success and respectability, turns out it was me who needed the house. Only I wouldn’t exactly say I was downorout—more like moved-over and reset. And old, and single, and currently broke, but no one could have known about the broke part because I drove up that uneven driveway in my blue Mercedes sedan, rocks kicking up a plume of dust.
Not that it mattered.
Well, yes, it did.
I was sixty, recently divorced, old enough to earn full retirement from teaching but not old enough to withdraw the highest levels yet. By all accounts—and byall, I mean my daughter Terri’sand my friend Dawn’s accounts—I should have stayed in my thirty-year marriage to Eric.
“He’snotterrible,” Dawn had fussed. “Girl, you cryin’ with a loaf of bread under your arms.”
But now wasn’t the time to worry about other people’s opinions.
So there I was, pressing the silver button to park my car, boxes and laundry baskets filling every inch possible of the passenger’s seat, back seat, and trunk. I’d driven all the way from Austin nonstop, a fact neither my bladder nor my knees appreciated.
My bones needed to unravel slowly from the four-hour drive, but the weight in my midsection said that the moment I stood up, I must beeline it to the bathroom to avoid an accident.
I hadn’t had one yet. A blatant bladder malfunction, I mean. And God knows I didn’t want my first memory back in town to be peeing on myself. In a little Texas town like Robin Creek, it wouldn’t just bemymemory—it would beeveryone’smemory. I’d already seen the living room curtains fluttering open as I drove down the street. People knew I was there. I could hear the gossip already.
“She didwhat?”
“Splatted a puddle, right there on the porch!”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure as I’m Black.”
Keys in hand and a prayer on my lips, I speed-walked across the gray stepping stones, past the screen, and into the house, my hips rolling side to side, my pelvic muscles defying gravity. I swear, it was one fluid move from the driver’s seat to the toilet seat. Thank goodness the layout of the left side of the house had remained as I remembered it. I didn’t know what felt better: the whoosh of liquid leaving my system or the relief of making it to the bathroom in time.Yes!
You have to celebrate the little victories, you know.
Glancing around, I noticed subtle signs of change in the hall bathroom, the fresh paint masking old memories. The carpet was gone, replaced by laminate flooring designed to resemble hardwood. No one would have been fooled, but I’d picked the faux floors because, according to the contractor, they were more durable.
And then, like clockwork, I began to scold myself. Who was I kidding? The floors looked cheap. Like rental-house floors. If I skimped onrealwood, I had no business trying to play this game of landlord. Unlike me, folks who flipped houses were rich.
Shoot, I’d barely made it inside the house before I peed on these floors. Then again, it wasn’t my fault. Everyone knows teachers have the worst bladders from “holding it” for so long. You can’t leave eight-year-olds unsupervised for a second.
As the stream of relief continued to flow from me, I defended myself to my own conscience all the more:What do you want me to do—drink half my weight in water every day or get myself all dehydrated? You can’t have both!
This was the story of my life. Warring within my own brain. Wanting what I wanted, needing what I needed, but not feeling like I could have both. Waterandbladder control. Marriageandlove. Peaceandpeople. Something always had to give because, cutting it this close, I was going to make a mess of myself one of these days.
I texted my daughter to let her know I had made it safely. She replied only with a thumbs-up, which I’d expected. She and I hadn’t been on the best terms since I made the decision to move away.
Well, at least the toilet in the main unit flushed properly, which had been a concern a few weeks ago. Looked like the constructioncompany I’d used had finally gotten it right. In fact, the entire bathroom looked amazing, now that my biological crisis had passed and I could fully see straight again. Those cabinets had turned out smooth and shiny.
The washroom, with its claw-foot tub and intricate tile work, whispered of practicality mixed with a touch of luxury.
I finished my business, washed my hands, and ventured through the rest of the house to see what had been accomplished despite them not being able to create the second kitchen and separate both sides of the house completely because I’d run out of money. For now.
As I walked the first few steps away from the bathroom, the home’s old character returned step by step—a creak here, a groan there. I passed through the living area, where my grandmother’s old rocking chair still sat in the corner, the wooden armrest glossy from years of use. This was not the house I’d grown up in, but these walls knew me as a child—wide-eyed, tracing the patterns on the rug, counting the ticks of the old grandfather clock, which was now missing from its nook.
In the newer bathroom, someone had made a sorry attempt at cleaning the mirror, leaving streaks of dust that skewed the reflection staring back at me. It was comforting, actually. This woman staring back wasn’t the real me. She had a dusty filter. Therealme looked way better; I was sure of it.
I rolled a paper towel from off the holder, dampened a square, and wiped to reveal a better view of myself. It had been three years since I’d stood in this bathroom looking at myself, but from this angle, and these extra countrified rays of sunlight… It seemed like time was moving a little faster. My lips, always my most prominent feature, still held their softness and strength, accentuated by a neutral shade of brown with a pop of gold in the center.
Learned that trick on YouTube.
