Wes sat down at the table, feeling a confidence that had elements of unreality, like an out-of-body experience. “We need some boundaries until I move.”
“Boundaries?” She repeated the word like it was dirty. “I gave birth to you.”
“I know, Ma, but this is important to me.”
“Enough,” she said, her voice getting high. “This is Amy’s fault. The new woman. Poisoning you.”
“No, it’s not. Blaming others won’t help.”
“Go ahead,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest as if daring him. “If I’m such a terrible person, leave. Leave now.”
“Ma, please don’t be like that. We can work this out if we talk.” His mouth was dry with tension, but he didn’t want to get a glass of water. Not with his mother standing at the sink, her lips working with outrage.
His calm tone seemed to infuriate her more. “No talking! Go! You’re no longer my son. I only hope you treat that woman better than you treat me. Just like your worthless father, you don’t care about anyone but yourself. Get out. Out! Out!”
She came at him with hands outstretched as if to shove him out the door, and Wes jumped to his feet, sadness layered with the fear that had always lain like a membrane over their relationship. He didn’t trust himself to speak but went to his room, her insults ringing down the hall as he left. It didn’t take him long to pack his belongings, and the television in the front room started blaring as he locked the surprisingly docile cats in their carriers. It was as if they understood it was time to go as much as he did.
His mother didn’t turn her head from the television as he walked through with his baggage, nor did she move when he finished taking everything to the sidewalk and came back. Despite the ugliness of whatshe’d said, he couldn’t leave without saying something. He stood to her side and looked at her, a small woman with a hard expression who refused to move her eyes from the people laughing on the screen.
“Ma,” he said and waited. He spoke again. “I’ll be in touch.”
When there was no answer, he left.
Wes stepped outside, closing the door carefully behind him before raising his face to the sun. Being outside was like breathing in air after being submerged. He almost gulped it in.
It took a few minutes to maneuver everything into his car, and ten minutes after that, he was at Amy’s apartment. He’d always been so hesitant to impose on his sister—he was supposed to be there for her after all, not vice versa—that he’d never thought it was an option, despite Amy’s open-door invitation. Nadine had shown him it was fine to ask for what he needed, and he didn’t hesitate to ring her bell.
“I thought you were at Ma’s,” Amy said, opening the door.
“She kicked me out.”
“Wes, what?” Her eyes widened. “She did what?”
“We had a fight, and she kicked me out.” He was thirty, but the rejection still hurt. To his surprise, no tears came. He felt mostly numb.
“Get in here.” Then she saw the carrier in his hand. “What is that? A cat? You have a cat?”
“Not one.”
“Wes, how many cats?” She looked around him into the hall. “Oh my God.”
“Four.” He brought them in as Amy’s jaw dropped.
“You don’t like cats,” she whispered.
“Don’t say that around them. They’re sensitive.” He leaned down to whisper to the cages. “Don’t listen to her. You know I love you.”
“Oh, you’re a cat daddy now.” She laughed. “Nice. Well, I was thinking of getting one anyway.”
“Four isn’t much more trouble than one.”
“Sure, Wes.”
They released the cats and watched Sidonie-Gabrielle disappear as the rest sniffed around their new environment. “The spare bedroom is yours for as long as you need,” said Amy quietly.
A small dart of warmth pierced through the dullness in his mind. “Thanks, Amy.”
“I told you, you were welcome anytime.” She slung an arm around him. “It gets better when you have time away from her. I swear it does. I’m here to help.”
