My gosh, was she not listening to a word I was saying? “I’m here to help you, Mom.” I threw my hands up. “I don’t want you to be evicted, so let me help you. How much do you need to stay another few months, just until you can get back on your feet?”
“Back on my feet?” She asked, standing. “You think I can go work? Allegra, what about my ailments?”
It was all I could do not to roll my eyes. “Can’t you work at the market or-”
“I need ten grand,” she answered my first question.
“Ten grand?” Colton asked in surprise.
We both looked at him. He raised his hand in apology for jumping in, but I wished he would say more. She was getting a mood that nobody wanted to see.
“I can’t give you ten grand,” I said softly.
My mom’s hands were shoving me back before I realized she had gotten so close to me.
Colton was on his feet and beside me in an instant. “Woah, okay, let’s just talk about this.”
Mom’s rage was physical now; there was no calming her down. “Who do you think you are?” She screamed. “You come all the way from Seattle to judge me for how I live my life? Youcome to tell me there’s no way to help me, and then what? What are you gonna do now?” She pushed me again, and I hit the wall.
Colton pushed himself in front of me. “Ida, please, we just want to talk this out and see how we can save your house.”
She was scowling at him, balling up her fists as if she could take him in a fight. “You’re in on it too, are ya, handsome? That’s just lovely. You bring the guy you’re sleepin’ with to fight your battles? Well done, Allegra.”
It was over. I just wanted to leave, but this would be the last time I would ever come back, and I needed my momentos. I grabbed Colton’s hand, pulling him down the wood-panelled hallway.
“Where are you going?” Mom wailed, following after us. “Get out of my house, or I’m callin’ the cops!”
I turned to face her, stopping so suddenly that Colton ran into my back. “Call them! I can show them all the heroin you’ve been stashing in the couch!”
She stopped, her face blanching.
I turned into my old bedroom, though it looked nothing like it had seven years ago. The mattress was overturned, every drawer in my dresser had been stripped and was nowhere to be seen, there was marker on the walls as if a child was living here. My closet doors were gone, and I prayed with all my heart that what I needed would still be in here.
Under a pile of my old clothes mixed with dust bunnies and a bunch of garbage I didn’t want to touch was a locked storage box. Thank goodness. I put my dad’s birthday in the combination and popped it open.
His old coat, a pair of boots, a hat, a ton of pictures of my dad and me, his belt buckle, and a pearl snap. It was all I hadsaved after my mom had gone on her rampage of throwing or selling everything of my dad’s the week after he died.
“What did I do to deserve such a brat as a daughter!” My mom was hollering. “What would your father say about how you were treatin’ me? He’s rollin’ in his grave right now!”
I closed the lid, relieved everything was still inside, and locked it. I stood to lift it, but Colton, who was standing behind me, grabbed it from my hands. I gave him a silent thank you and followed him back down the hall.
“Peach, look at me!” Her hands wrapped around my wrist, holding it so tightly her fingertips were turning white.
I stared at her, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. “What?”
Her eyes filled with tears, filling my body with overwhelming guilt. “Y-you can’t just leave. Allegra, they’re going to evict me. What am I gonna do?” She hiccuped as she began sobbing.
I felt like I was being torn in half.
I took care of my mother for six years until I turned eighteen and got out of this town as fast as possible. I felt such a horrible shame for ditching her that when she asked for money, I got it in my head that I was responsible for helping her in any way I could.
Now, it was clear she had ruined the house I had grown up in and filled it with manwhores and drugs. I had been giving her more than enough money, hoping she would live comfortably and maybe even save some of it.
Instead, I had been accidentally fueling an addiction.
Now, my mother, who looked like she was about to knock on death’s door, was pleading with me for more money.
What was I supposed to do?
