Page 13 of Cook

I unlocked the front door and held it open for Maddie. “Mom, I’m here. I brought a...”

Fuck, what should I call her?

After a second, I stated, “I brought Maddie.”

Bringing her here was all a rash decision, one that I couldn’t take back now. “Mom!”

She popped out of the living home, holding stacks of old DVDs. At least, they weren’t VHS tapes, but I wouldn’t put that past my mother either.

“Hiya, Morris,” she said. “I was just cleaning up when I saw that you had brought someone home. Hi Maddie. I’m Vivian Cook. Most people call me Vivi.”

I picked up a box and moved it off the couch. “Mom, you’re not supposed to be doing this much housework.”

She flipped her hand at me dismissively. “Don’t mind the mess, Maddie. I was doing some rearranging earlier. It got out of hand, and I didn’t know Morris would be coming by. Or bringing someone. Are you hungry? I can make you something.”

“We ate on the way,” I answered for Maddie, and she held out the bag toward my mother. “Let’s put that in the fridge.”

I guided Maddie into the kitchen. “Mom taught me everything I know about cooking.”

Mom followed us. “I can get that, Morris.”

“No worries, Mom. What can I do to help with this mess?” I asked, before Mom took another breath to speak. She talked a lot, but it probably made up for the fact that I barely heard her speak a word growing up. Not when Daddy was so unpredictable. It sometimes seemed like Mom was making up for lost time now.

“Your house is spotless,” said Maddie. “I’ve never seen anything so clean.”

“Clean?” Vivi scoffed. “It’s a mess. You saw all those boxes, right?”

“Mom,” I warned in a low voice.

“What, Morris? It is a mess. No one should see that,” said Mom. “It should be a crime. I look like I’m living in a dungeon. I should—”

“Mom,” I cut her off, giving her a hard glare.

Mom looked like I had slapped her. My heart rumbled, and my stomach clenched. I was better than Daddy. She knew that, but my voice sounded like his. I probably looked like him too, as if I had stepped out of the past through a time machine. I tried not to look like him, keeping my hair and beard long like he never would.

Still, Mom cowered because I had his eyes and build, and that was just too fucking much.

“I think food would be good for Maddie,” I said. “She only ate one taco, so she’ll probably be hungry by the time you’ve got something whipped up. Mom is one of the best cooks around.”

“Whatever you want,” added Mom. “Eggs Benedict? A souffle? Brownies? A burger? How about a big helping of homemade mac and cheese? Fajitas? I almost burned down the house once making those, so maybe no fajitas. What a mess. But really, what do you want to eat? Just say it, and I’ll make it. Anything.”

Maddie hung her jaw open again, a perfect O. “I, um, I don’t know.”

“Mom,” I said, and she looked between Maddie and me.

“Can I use the bathroom?” asked Maddie.

“Down the hallway,” I said, and Maddie scampered off like a puppy with her tail between her legs. When I heard the door close, I turned to Mom. “Can Maddie stay here? I know we have that open room.”

“Of course, she can stay here,” said Mom, dumping the DVDs into the nearest box. “What’s going on, Morris? This isn’t like you.”

I forced a smile. “To randomly show up?”

“To show up with a girl at your momma’s house.” Mom washed her hands and dried them on her apron. “What’s going on with Maddie?”

I gritted my teeth, but then told her the story. Mom gasped—a lot—but remained mostly silent as I talked about Maddie and her history.

“She just needs somewhere people won’t smother her,” I said. “And that feels comfortable.”

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