Page 122 of Past Due

Hearing him talk about our family and the future he wanted filled me with such warmth and happiness.

“Plus, there will be less glitter to vacuum every morning,” he teased with a playful glint in his dark eyes.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you,” he insisted.

I laughed and gestured to a street up ahead. “Turn right. Then straight four blocks and a left.”

Besian followed my directions and eventually turned into dumpiest, saddest trailer-slash-RV park I had ever seen. “Holy shit, this is a nightmare.”

“It’s not very nice,” I agreed.

“When the sun goes down, this place must look like a serial killer’s paradise,” he remarked unkindly. “How old is that trailer?” He gestured to a single wide that had rusting wall panels and no skirting. “Look at the door on that one!”

It saddened me to see the awful living conditions. There was hardly any grass and only a few scraggly trees. Children played on the broken, cracked pavement and a pack of scrawny dogs ran circles around them, trying to steal their faded and scuffed soccer ball.

“This shit is appalling,” Besian said, angrily. “Landlords shouldn’t be allowed to let people live like this.”

“It’s all about money,” I murmured, thinking how easy it would have been for me to grow up in a place similar to this one. “Spider wasn’t the best landlord, but he made sure his properties were clean and well-kept.”

“He was a saint compared to the asshole that owns this place,” Besian muttered. “Which lot number?”

“Down there,” I motioned toward the sign. “43. It’s a travel trailer. Gray with blue stripes.”

“I see it.” He pointed it out with a flick of his finger. “It’s not as bad as the others.”

The travel trailer was at least twenty years old and very small, but it seemed well maintained. It sat back in a corner of the park away from other units. There was no vehicle parked nearby, and I wondered how my mom was getting around town for groceries and other necessities.

Besian parked in the space next to the travel trailer. He retrieved his Ruger from under the seat and tucked it into the shoulder holster he had hidden under his blazer. “Marley, at the first sign of trouble, we are leaving. Understood?”

I nodded. “I understand.”

We got out of the car, and Besian hung back a few feet while I walked up to the door. Before I could knock, the door opened suddenly, and my mother appeared. She looked terrible. Her face was drawn, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Instead of her usual curled and beautifully arranged hair, she had her limp, dirty strands clutched in a banana clip at the back of her head. Her lips were pale and cracked, and she trembled as she reached out for me.

“Mom!” I ran up the flimsy metal stairs and into her arms, crushing her in a hug. She shuddered and sobbed, clinging to me as if she feared I might disappear. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m here. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Oh, Marley, I'm sorry,” she wept. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I rubbed her back and squeezed her even tighter. “We’re going to figure it out.” Pulling back, I gently directed her back into the trailer to make room for Besian to join us in the extremely cramped quarters. There was barely enough room for the three of us to stand, and I steered Mom toward the banquette.

When I sat across from her, she snatched my hand and ran her finger over my wedding band. She lifted her tearful gaze to mine. “My baby girl got married.”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling at her and then Besian. “It was sort of a whirlwind.”

“Was it?” she wondered, eyeing him and then me. “Because Spider and I both knew how sweet he was on you all this time. Used to drive Spider crazy,” she said with a laugh. “Thinking about you falling in love with him.”

“Was it that obvious?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“To everyone but you two,” my mother remarked. She clasped Besian’s hand, surprising him with her unexpected touch. “Promise me you’ll take care of her.”

“On my life,” he vowed.

Mom nodded and let go of his hand. She wiped her face and blew out a noisy breath. “I don’t know where to start, Marley.”

“How did you meet Adrienne?” Before we had left the penthouse, Besian had explained the Adrienne/Adrian thing to me. I couldn’t wrap my head around my mother getting involved with a woman, not after a lifetime of heterosexual relationships.

“In a Facebook group,” she said, drawing circles on the chipped and dented tabletop. “For older women stuck in loveless marriages.”

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