Page 57 of Anything For This Love

“You could’ve come to me,” Enisi continues. “We would have figured something out.”

“How, Mom?” she explodes. “You don't have the kind of money I need! I couldn’t ask you for that.”

My grandmother’s steely eyes meet her daughter’s without flinching. “I have excellent credit and a great reputation with the bank. I could have gotten a loan.”

This admission breaks her. My mother buries her head in her hands and cries inconsolably. Her shoulders shake with violent sobs, every sound full of anguish.

“I have a little money saved up. We can make up the difference with a loan.” My mother cries harder as my grandmother stands and pushes her chair under the table. She motions for me to follow her and I obey, standing and trailing after her down the hall, leaving my mother to fall apart at the table.

As we walk down the hall, I stop. “Hold on a minute. I need to check on Chloe.” I tiptoe into her room to find her forehead is damp but cool, her fever finally abated.

“Is she okay?” my grandmother asks from the doorway.

“She had a fever, so I had to pick her up early from daycare. The medicine I gave her brought her temperature down.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re home already?” I nod my head in confirmation.

When we make it to her room, she pulls the door shut and turns to me. “When Jacob gets here tomorrow, the three of you need to leave and stay gone until this is resolved. I don’t want you near this house in case someone comes after your mother.”

“What about you?”

She gives a wry smile. “I am an old woman with a shotgun who ain’t afraid of meeting Jesus.”

I gasp. “Enisi, don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth. I will protect my daughter, bullheaded idiot that she is, though I hope it doesn’t come to that. But I believe in planning for the worst-case scenario and I don't want you here if they come looking. Jacob, I’m sure, will agree with me.”

I scrub my hands down my face. “This is a disaster. What are we going to do with her, assuming you get the money and pay them off?”

And save her sorry ass, I think but don’t say out loud.

“I have no idea. She needs to enter a program, something that will keep her accountable and grounded.”

“I agree, but if she stays here, I can’t. I can’t live with her again.”

“I know,” she replies sadly. “I know.”

I return to my room and start putting everything away as I call Chloe’s doctor and wait for the receptionist to pick up. They give us an appointment for the next morning at ten a.m. I know I need to fill Jacob in on everything that’s happened, but he’s still at work and I need time to gather my thoughts before I can talk to him. Too many emotions are swirling inside me to articulate everything that’s happened today.

When Chloe wakes up from her nap, she’s a little perkier than when I picked her up. She still tugs at her ear occasionally but doesn’t seem to be in acute pain. I let her pick out a popsicle and make her favorite lunch, hoping it will help her feel better. My mother was gone when I came out of my room and I simply don’t have the energy to worry about where she went. Maybe she went to visit Ethan. Maybe she went to get high. Who knows?

She has a shift this evening, so I don’t see her again that night. If she sticks to her normal routine, she’ll sleep a few hours after she gets home tomorrow morning, at which time my grandmother will go to the bank to ask for the money my mother owes.

I wait for Jacob’s usual evening call, unable to force myself to relive this day once more until I absolutely have to. I tell him about Chloe first, letting him know she’s scheduled to see the doctor tomorrow and attempt to collect my thoughts before diving into the story about my mom.

I’m met with silence once I finish relaying the day’s events and wonder if the connection has been lost. The screen lights up in my hand when I pull the phone away from my ear, showing we’re still on the call.

“Jacob?”

“I just need a moment,” he requests. I wait for him to process all the information I threw at him, nervously picking at my nails.

“Tell your grandmother not to go to the bank,” he says finally.

“What? Why?” I ask, shocked by his response.

“Tomorrow is Friday. Even if they approve her for a loan, the paperwork won’t be processed in time. It’ll be too late by the time she gets the money.”

My heart plummets and I press my hand over my mouth to stifle a sob. Those goons are going to kill my mother over nine thousand dollars. What happens then? Will they try to extort the rest of the money from her family?

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