Page 73 of The Heartbreak Hotel
“Okay,” I say, curling my fingers around the cold railing. I squeeze until my knuckles turn white. “I’m going to go.”
“Yeah,” Goldie says. “Let me know how it winds up.”
I don’t give myself time to think about it before dialing my mother’s phone number—time to brace, or take a deep breath, or play out the potential catastrophes. When she picks up, she sounds as delighted as ever.
“Lou! Happy Thanksgiving, baby. I didn’t think I’d hear from you.”
“Well, Goldie called me.”
Mom sighs, like this whole thing is a trivial inconvenience. “I told her not to bother you with this,” she says. “I know you’re going through such a tough time.”
Hearing her say it, I realize it isn’t true. This timedoesn’tfeel tough. This time feels precious: the Comeback Inn, two months living with Mei, my week with Quinn. Henry, and every part of my life that’s changed because of him.
But this is how my mother understands the world—one relationship to the next, the desolate wasteland of finding yourself freshly single.
I don’t correct her. I just say, “Tell me what’s going on.”
Her explanation is wandering and illogical, a string of causes and effects that don’t quite add up to the basic truth, which is that she owes her landlord six thousand dollars in three days.
“Why haven’t you been paying your rent, Mom?”
She laughs, though there’s nothing funny about it. “I just lost track of it, Lou, it was a silly mistake. We’ve been in Florida, andthen I’ve been so worried about you, it’s just been slipping my mind.”
I bristle at the casual insinuation that this is even a little bit my fault. “How much money do you have right now?”
Mom makes a high, wavering noise, like she’s trying to remember. “About seven hundred dollars?”
I press my eyes shut. I have two thousand dollars in my bank account. I could give hermaybehalf of that without fearing for my life. Which gets us to $1,700. A slight $4,300 shy.
“Can you borrow some money from Mark?”
“Oh, honey, no—I don’t want to bother him with this. If I need to leave my place, though, he’s offered for me to stay with him until—”
“No,” I say, cutting her off. Mom moving in with one of her horrible boyfriends has always been the worst-case scenario. If there’s one thing Goldie and I agree on, it’s that she can’t be dependent on a man for the roof over her head. “Is there anyone else who could loan you some money?”
Mom hesitates. She has the grace to sound embarrassed when she says, “Well, maybe my daughters?”
“I don’t have that kind of money.”
“But with you and Goldie together?”
“And then what?” I ask. On Lake Estes, a kayaker puts in near the parking lot—sending ripples over the still water. “How do you pay your rent next month, once you’re caught up?”
“I’ll pick up more shifts at the store,” she says. “I’ll figure it out, if I can just get out of this hole. I promise.”
She means it—I know she does. She’s meant every promise she’s ever made to me, maybe most of all the ones she didn’t keep.
“Give me today to figure it out,” I say. I count the kayaker’s strokes through the water, trying to ground myself. “I’ll call you back.”
“Oh, thank you, honey. I can always count on you, Lou, my sweet girl.”
The door slides open behind me and I jump. Henry fills the doorframe—sleepy eyed, his hair a ruffled mess that so begs to be touched I feel it in my fingertips. He’s in a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips. I’ve thought of waking up to Henry, but I never thought of it quite like this; in the exact same breath, I want to run from him and reach for him. “Come inside,” he whispers, holding an arm toward me. “It’s freezing.”
“I have to go,” I say into the phone, stepping toward him. “I’ll call you.”
Mom’s still thanking me as I hang up, over and over, the grateful tone I’ve heard from her all my life. Every time she messes up. Every time I fix it.
“Are you okay?” Henry closes the sliding door behind me. He looks half-awake and confused, blinking rapidly like he’s trying to get me in focus. I’m wrapped in the throw blanket like a mummy—it’s pulled tightly enough around me to cut off my circulation. Now that I’m off the phone I can feel the blood rushing back into my body, feel all my limbs again. And Henry’s right: it was freezing out there. I start shaking almost immediately.
