Page 59 of Chasing Fireflies

“’Preciate that,” I say. He pats my shoulder and tilts his hat toward Banner before walking out.

*

“I can’t deal with her anymore,” Sara says in a harsh whisper. She dumps clean clothes onto the bed and drops the basket onto the floor. “I called Dannie today. I have an appointment tomorrow, so there is no need in me having a babysitter here.”

“You called Dannie?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says, looking over at me. She puts down the shirt in her hand and rubs her face after she sits on the bed. Her hair is piled on top of her head, and she wears a tank top and wrap with loose fitted jeans. She got dressed, so that’s a plus.

“These holes I get in take a lot out of me. This medicine isn’t working once again. I’m sick to death with feeling like this. So yeah, I called Dannie. I guess I need to talk it out, but my mom being here doesn’t help a damn thing. I love the woman, but she drives me crazy, baby.” She looks over at me and shakes her head. “How did I live with her for so long?”

I laugh. “I wonder that, too.”

She smiles, and it’s the first one I’ve seen in days, so I smile back. She sighs and falls back onto the bed, throwing her arms above her head. Her eyes blink, and I watch her. She looks over at me and holds her arms up, likecome here. So I do. I climb on top of her, holding my weight off of her small body. She looks into my eyes and wraps her arms around my neck. “How was your day?” she asks me, looking from my eyes to my lips.

“Better now.” I lean down and take her bottom lip between my teeth. She closes her eyes as my tongue touches hers, and she pulls me down closer. There’s a knock on the door. Opening her eyes, love sighs and then rolls her eyes. I laugh lightly.

“My mom is a cock blocker,” Sara says, and I burst out laughing as I climb off of her and walk to the door.

“Wondering what you two would like for supper? I’ve found some potatoes that aren’t rotten and you have chicken in the freezer.”

I look back when Sara speaks. “Mama, we have more than chicken, but anyway, you don’t need to cook us supper. We can just go grab something, and you can head on home to Daddy.”

“You could use a home-cooked meal.”

My wife links her arm with her mom’s after she walks past me. “I think I’ll be okay,” she says, forcing her mom to walk with her because their arms are joined. I follow them down the hall with a smile on my face. Sara is kicking Debbie out, but in the nicest way. We walk down the stairs with Debbie telling Sara she needs to eat more and eat healthier. Sara just nods. Debbie even suggests her daughter needs to go grocery shopping more. She looks back at me and says, “You need to take better care of Sara and make sure she takes her meds every day. This house could use some cleaning, too. If you want, I can help you.”

Sara grabs her mom’s purse from the table behind the couch as we walk past it. I walk ahead and open the front door. “I love you, Mama. As always, thank you for coming.”

Sara kisses Debbie’s cheek and unlinks their arms before she hands Chatty Cathy her purse.

“Just take care of yourself,” Debbie says to her child.

“Always, Mama.”

Debbie puts her purse strap over her shoulder and looks to me. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do, Debbie,” I say, still holding the door open. “Have a safe trip home.” Debbie walks out.

“Send my love to Daddy,” Sara calls out, giving her mom one last wave before we shut the door. “Holy shit,” Sara tells me with wide eyes. “That woman will make you want to pull your damn hair out.” She walks into the kitchen and puts the chicken back into the freezer. “Want a burger?” she asks me, and I grin.

“Sounds good.”

Chapter Eighteen

Cash

I look over at the clock. It’s two in the morning. Baby isn’t in the bed, and I’m not surprised. She’s on a mission. Thanksgiving is being held at our place, and she hasn’t stopped going since she decided to host it. I roll over and grab her pillow. Breathing in, I smell her scent, and sometime later, I fall back asleep.

*

“Everything looks great, Sara.” I pick up a loose piece of turkey from the bottom of the pan and pop it into my mouth.

“Cash, get your hands out of that!” My wife slaps my arm and moves around me to cover the turkey. “Is it moist enough?” She blows a piece of stray hair out of her face and wipes her brow with the back of her hand.

“It’s delicious. Don’t worry. No one is expecting it to be perfect. It’s your first time hosting.”

“You mean, it’s my first time cooking like this.”

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