Page 12 of Buried Dreams

“What are you hooting and hollering about?” she scoffs. “Can’t a woman go to the bathroom?”

“I wasn’t hooting and hollering. I was wondering where you were.”

“We don’t live in Buckingham Palace”—she walks over to her chair—“so I couldn’t really go far.”

I point at her. “With you, you never know. You could have escaped and gone to the bakery.”

“I should have.” She sits down in her chair and grabs her glass of water from the side table. “It would serve you right for hiding my car keys.”

“I didn’t hide them,” I remind her. “I put them in a safe place that was not near you or where you could find them.” Walking over to the fridge, I pull it open. “Are you hungry?”

“Oh, good Lord.” She throws her hands up. “Will you stop hovering over me?”

“This isn’t hovering.” I grab the sweet tea pitcher out of the fridge. “This is being thoughtful and wondering if my mother is hungry.”

“We ate dinner not too long ago,” she snaps, “so I’m fine.”

“What do you want to do tonight?” I ask, and she just looks at me.

“Why don’t you get out of my hair?” she asks. “Go out and maybe leave me alone for a bit.” She’s been home from the hospital for two days. It’s been two days of her being, as she calls it, cooped up. Two days of her telling me she’s fine and it’s all hogwash.

“But then what fun will you have?” I pour the sweet tea in a glass as I stare at her, and she glares at me. I’m about to fire back at her when the doorbell rings. “I wonder who that could be.” I walk around the island and toward the front door.

“Tell whoever it is I’m not here,” she whisper-hisses. I just roll my eyes as I pull open the door. For the past two days, we’ve gotten visits from practically everyone in the neighborhood, trying to see my mother and wish her well. She was very polite to their face, but once the door was closed, she would bitch at me for letting them in. I pull open the front door, expecting to be greeted by one of the neighbors again, but I don’t know why I’m shocked when I see Dr. Oliver. Instead of his regular doctor attire, he’s wearing jeans and a white button-down with a leather jacket, and I think my jaw hits the floor. Right behind him is a motorcycle that has to be his. “Dr. Oliver,” I finally mumble and unlock the screen door.

“Don’t let him in here,” my mother hisses from the side as I push the screen door open, and he walks up the two steps to come into the house.

“Hey, Everleigh,” he greets me quietly, coming in and then looking at my mother. “Madeline.”

“Oliver,” she grumbles with her teeth clenched together, “what are you doing here?” Her eyes are big, and she goes from looking at him to looking at me. I have to roll my lips. She looks like I did when I was caught making out with Brock on the couch once when she was at the store. Of course, I was seventeen and not in my fifties.

“I came to see how you were doing.” He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it over the banister before walking over and bending to kiss her cheek. I have seen my mother look at me with murder in her eyes, but I’ve never seen this type of murder. “What have you been doing?” He ignores her look as he sits down on the couch next to the chair.

“I’m going to go”—I point up toward the stairs—“and get dressed, and then I think I’m going to go see Autumn.”

“That sounds like fun,” Oliver says. “I can watch over your mother.”

“You won’t be watching over anything,” my mother snaps at him, “because you’ll be leaving.” She looks at him, then me. “And you should go out, and then I’m going to go and lie down and rest.” I nod at her as I see Oliver grin.

Walking up the steps to my bedroom, I close the door and silently giggle at them before I take off my robe. Grabbing my matching white lace bra and thong panty set, I slip on my long, flowy, pink-flowered skirt that lands down to my ankles before I put on a short white T-shirt that sits right at the waist of the skirt. I walk out of my bedroom to go to the bathroom and hear their voices. Closing the door behind me, I pull off the towel from my hair as I comb through it before putting spray in and fluffing it with my hands. I apply just a light coat of mascara, then make my way downstairs.

“Okay,” I say, seeing Oliver and Mom in exactly the same spot they were when I went upstairs, but now the television is on. “I’m going to head out.” I put on my flip-flops. “I won’t be late.” I stop beside my mother’s chair and bend to kiss her cheek. “Love you, Momma.”

“Have fun,” she replies. I look over at Oliver and nod. He returns the gesture.

“I’ll see you around?” I say, not sure if it’s a question or not.

“You will.” He smiles and then looks at my mother. “For sure.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I mumble at them before walking out and closing the door behind me. I hold my phone in my hand as I walk toward the bar. The sun is setting, and the stars are starting to twinkle in the sky. Walking down Main Street, I pass the diner that looks like it’s almost done with the dinner rush.

I hear music coming out of the bar, and when I turn the corner, I’m surprised to see it almost jam-packed. Except no one is here who I recognize. It’s all fresh new faces, which means no one will be gawking at me the whole time. I look around, seeing Autumn behind the bar with another bartender beside her. The two of them work on filling drinks as four servers work the floor.

I zigzag toward the bar and stop in my tracks when I see Charlie sitting on the stool in the corner of the bar. His eyes meet mine, and he smiles at me and gets up from his stool. My feet move on their own toward him. “Everleigh,” he says, then hugs me big, “it’s good to see you.” Once he lets go of me, I have to blink quickly to get the tears to go away.

“Charlie, I—” I shake my head. “It’s so good to see you here.” I look at him and then at Autumn, who has stopped doing what she is doing and is just staring at us.

“Autumn said you might be coming by.” He sits back down on his stool, and I pull out the stool beside him and sit down. “Thought I would…” He shrugs, and I look at him and then at Autumn. The last time I heard, he had shown up at her house, drunk off his ass, and told her he wished she was dead.

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