Page 47 of Marked

“I’m gonna wash up real quick.” She disappears into the bathroom.

“Thanks for coming with me, it will only take a second. I bet the chain’s just wrapped around the thingy again,” I tell Zack.

He smiles at me, like he’s amused. “The thingy?”

“Yes.” I nod. “The thingy.”

“All right.” She’s back, and she’s brought three bottles of water. Zack and I both take one, but neither of us opens it.

“Your picture is crooked, mind if I fix it?” Zack points to the family portrait hanging on the wall over the television.

She tenses but gives an abrupt nod. “I was dusting this morning,” she explains.

He reaches over the television, mindful of the small basket of flowers there, and pushes the left side of the frame up until it’s level again.

“It’s a nice photograph.” He steps back. I catch my mother’s eyes lingering on him before moving to the photo.

“It was taken a year before my husband passed.” She puts her water down and joins him, pointing at my father. “Richard was diagnosed with lung cancer a week after we took it.”

My heart aches with the memories of my father’s illness.

“It must have been a horrible time for you all,” Zack says softly.

She raises her chin. “It was. He was very ill for a long time. None of the treatments worked.” She slips her hands into her back pockets, making her elbows stick out. “We spent every last penny we had trying to make him better, and then some.” She sighs.

“Dad lost his job and his health insurance, so a lot of the bills piled up.” I lean back on the couch.

“Harley was a good nurse though.” She looks over her shoulder at me. “He could always count on his little Harley.”

Zack’s shoulders lift.

Maybe it’s her tone. Sometimes there’s a touch of bitterness in it, but she doesn’t mean anything by it. Sometimes the memories mix together with the pain, and it colors her tone.

“A bit of a daddy’s girl, was she?” Zack smiles at her, and from his profile I notice a deep crinkling around his eyes. It makes him look more distinguished.

“She was definitely his favorite.”

“Dad didn’t have a favorite,” I interject. “He was just as close to Quinn.”

My mother’s body goes rigid at the sound of my sister’s name. An ache builds in my chest. I’ve triggered a deep pain.

“He wasn’t. And you know it.” She turns enough for me tosee her deep-set frown. In a blink, it’s gone. “Wow, it must be warmer outside than I thought.” She touches her forehead, like the heat is the reason for the bite in her words.

“It’s supposed to be pretty humid tonight, too,” I say. Talking about Dad and Quinn stirs up a lot for her and seeing her in pain makes me ache to fix it. She’s been through so much, and she’s done everything she could to protect me from the horrors of our past.

“I’ll make sure to turn the air down then. You know I can’t sleep if I’m too hot.” She smiles, then reaches over and pats my arm. “Since you’re here, mind checking that toilet?”

“Of course. That’s why I stopped by.” I put the water bottle down on a coaster with a smile. If I can project enough normalcy, maybe it will finally stick. A mom asking a daughter for a favor, can’t be more normal than that.

“Think I need my tools from the car?” Zack asks.

“No. It’s the thingy, I told you.” I smile at him as we walk through the dining room to the stairs leading up to the second floor.

“Quinn and I had separate rooms up here, with a shared bathroom. Mom and Dad’s room is downstairs, just off the living room,” I explain as we step off the stairs into the small upstairs foyer.

“My room is on the left, her room was the right, and the bathroom’s right there.” I take short steps forward to the closed door and push it open.

The phone rings from my old bedroom. I like to tease Mom that she has the last landline in Chicago.

---