Page 56 of Synced to Us

Ma’s eyes crinkle. “They’re in bed. Where else would they be?”

“Dee. Go upstairs.”

Dee’s lower back goes rigid under my touch. “I can stay if—”

“Darling, whatever is the matter?” Ma folds her hands in front of her.

“Upstairs,” I say to Dee.

Dee doesn’t wait to be asked a third time. She opens the front door, sends a questioning look over her shoulder, but for once, doesn’t argue and disappears inside.

Ma stares after her. “She’s such a lovely girl. Why did you send her away? I could’ve made coffee and we can catch up some before—”

“How much have you had?”

Ma startles. “What?”

“Were you drinking while the twins were still awake?”

“Winston Robert Rothlessberger, how dare you insinuate that I’m nothing less than sober.”

“Because you’re not.”

Ma puffs out her chest, indignant. “I certainly am.”

“Wanna blow into a breathalyzer and prove it? Brad’s got one in the car. I know this because I sent one to him for just this reason.”

“You’re my son,” Ma hisses. “You’re meant to respect your mother, not insult her.”

“So that’s a no, then.”

“I’m not drinking!” Ma’s yell echoes into the street. “And I’d never put those children at risk! Never! If you so much as whisper your lies to Brad—”

“Ma. Stop.”

“You take your demands elsewhere, young man. I can’t believe you don’t trust me with my own grandchildren. It’s not like you’re here all the time! Do you honestly believe you can come to my house, after months of desertion over the years, and make these accusations? Those twins are my everything! This house is all I have! I’d rather die than lose either of them! You have no idea how hard it is, Winston.” A sob escapes her. “None. The upkeep, the bills, the mortgage. Now that Brad, Lucy, and the kids are living with me because they can no longer afford their home—we’re drowning. I can barely keep my head above water. It’s so much like—so much like when your father—”

Ma can’t continue. She folds over.

“Jeez, Ma,” I say hoarsely, my chest caving in at the sight of her. I bring her into my arms. “I don’t want to upset you. I’m so goddamned worried. All the cash I make goes to you, but I’m not seeing it…” I scan the small area of house I can see. The peeling paint. The dampened, moldy wood beneath our feet. The uninsulated windows…I’d stayed away because I was ashamed at what I’d become and didn’t want Ma to have one inkling of my growing desperation. Now, I’m recognizing how that decision made her desperate. “I’m not seeing it in the upkeep. Where’s it going?”

Ma’s shoulders stiffen in my embrace. “You’re not saying I’m wasting the money you provide on alcohol.”

“No, I don’t think that. I send it to Brad… but where’s it going?”

Ma sniffles and gently extricating herself from my hold. “I can understand your anxiousness, dear. About this house, about me, but we’ll be fine. We always are. I’d just appreciate it if you wouldn’t accuse me of falling off the wagon when I’ve done everything in my power to stay on it.”

Her stance is determined, her voice steady and sure. But what alerted me in the first place remains true. Ma’s eyes are bloodshot, swollen, and much too bright and unfocused. I don’t smell it on her, but that’s what vodka’s for.

I sigh. “All right, Ma. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“There’s nothing to discuss. Hopefully you’ll get something big soon, send more money, and this place will be right as rain for the kids.”

There’s no point in arguing further tonight. “Yep.”

“I’m going to bed now. I thought I’d wait up for Brad and Lucy, but they’ll be along soon, I’m sure.”

“I have no doubt,” I grumble, ushering Ma into the house.

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