Page 36 of Fight

“She’s been staying out of trouble?” I asked a moment later.

He shrugged, answer enough for me.

“Receipt?” I said.

He smiled almost sheepishly, probably hoping I would overlook that detail.

“You know I can still evict her if she’s a problem,” he said.

“I can’t begin to imagine how you define ‘problem’ here,” I replied sarcastically, even more annoyed now, this time that annoyance squared directly at him. I’d paid in advance, which should have been enough to buy me silence.

“Just know that I do.”

“Is that some kind of threat?” I asked, frowning at him.

“No. Just a reminder, money or not, if she doesn’t toe the line, she’s out of here,” he said.

“Rent’s paid through the end of the year. You have a problem, you come to me with it,” I said.

Without another word, I turned and headed toward the stairwell.

I was angry enough that the rickety stairs and the two people who seemed to be sleeping, or more likely passed out, on them barely merited my attention.

How dare he threaten me? Threaten her?

Asshole.

By the time I made it to the fourth floor, I was in a frothy rage, so mad that I was at least somewhat distracted from the nerves and angst that visiting her always brought.

I knocked on the door impatiently, hoping that she was aware enough to answer.

It was always a delicate balance. If I came too early, she’d still be flying from the night before. Too late and she’d be hazing from the beginnings of her nightly binge or agitated because she hadn’t found enough money to get what she wanted.

To my relief, she opened the door immediately, and when I looked at her, I could see that she was pretty much all right. My rage evaporated.

“Hey, Ma,” I said.

“Hey! You’re out early today,” she said, eyes glittering in that way that told me she planned to make good use of my appearance.

I shouldn’t have come up here. I should have just paid the rent and left without seeing her. Too late for that now, so I exhaled and entered, hoping this would be okay.

I hated coming here, and every time I did I remembered why.

It would’ve been one thing if she kept this crappy apartment, more of a room really, in the same shambles as the rest of the building. But as I looked around I noticed that nothing had changed. It was still clean, well-organized, my mother having worked miracles with the secondhand stuff, trash really, that she’d salvaged from who knew where.

Instead of a broken couch, two mismatched armchairs, and a wobbly kitchen table that had seen better days, she used the touch that I didn’t have and didn’t understand to create an air of shabby-chic sophistication. Nearly impossible in a flophouse motel that catered to drug addicts and hookers, but she’d done it.

And seeing it was as painful as almost anything. It was too much of a reminder of before, those times when I’d been young, innocent, and she had been young, innocent in her own way and still the kind person she had once been. Reminded me of how we’d work on these projects together, her turning trash into treasure while I watched and tried to mimic.

And seeing that she still carved out time for those projects even as she slipped deeper and deeper into addiction nearly broke me. How many times had I said I was done? More than I could count, but when I saw these little reminders, let myself remember what she had been and not what she was, I knew I’d always keep going, that I couldn’t turn my back on her.

Not yet.

That I couldn’t leave her, wouldn’t, was one of the few things I knew with complete certainty, something that was confirmed when I turned to look at her. I’d walked into the apartment, and she’d stayed at the door behind me, but we were face-to-face now.

She mostly looked as she always had, if you ignored the wrinkles around the corner of her eyes. But they only gave her a hint of maturity, added some charm to her features.

She was as beautiful as she had always been, her thick hair braided and lying against her shoulder. Her sleeveless peach-colored T-shirt was a perfect contrast to her brown skin, and also tight enough to skim the dip of her waist and show her figure without being over the top. Denim capris and matching peach flip-flops completed the look.

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