Page 27 of The Fix
Rex ran a hand over his hair as he blew out a long breath, his muscles relaxing with the pent-up exhale.Camille Cortlandt.At his home. He’d nearly been knocked off his feet.
Do you know him?he’d heard Cami’s coworker ask her as they’d walked away.
Cami hadn’t answered, and he wasn’t sure he could either.Didthey know each other? Yes and no. Mostly no. So why was he still trying to shake off the emotions that had streaked through him the moment he saw her, leaving a burn in their wake?Camihad shown up to remove the plants he’d listed online. It made him want to laugh. Apparently, the universe enjoyed messing with him.
What had the woman named Bess who’d answered his ad said their business was? Some sort of garden? Something to do with butterflies? That couldn’t be right, could it? He was tempted to look it up but resisted. What did it matter? So he and Cami were both back in the same small town—if she had even ever left—where their awful history had taken place. Maybe he was bound to run into her at one point or another. Well, they’d gotten it over with, and now, if they spotted each other again somewhere at some point, they could both agreeably look the other way and move on by.
Rex parked his truck in front of the boxy, mud-brown ranch house and climbed out. He noted the carefully spaced flowers that had been planted along the walkway that someone had since neglected to water.
The screen portion of the screen door was missing on the top and shredded on the bottom as if a cat had used it to sharpen its claws.
Rex knocked once, and when he got no answer, knocked again, this time louder, holding the screen door open as he looked over his shoulder at the ramshackle neighborhood. He’d never been to this house—it was the rental of his mom’s current boyfriend—but they’d lived two streets over before he left for the military. Of course, they’d lived in lots of other places close by before that, switching rentals so much that sometimes he’d barely unpacked his room before they were moving someplace else. The reasons were various and identical: Her boss lied about her. The landlady was a cunt. The neighbor could go fuck himself. Everyone was always at fault except for his mom, and yet she was the common denominator every time their life got derailed.
He could have taken a lesson in victimhood from her and blamed the world for what had been taken from him too. It definitely would have been easier, and maybe somewhat satisfying in the short term. Righteous indignation could feel damn good. But he hadn’t been willing to do that, at least not for long, and now he was glad he hadn’t wasted the time.
He knocked a third time and heard the distant sound of his mom’s voice telling him to hold on to his britches and wait a goddamned minute. He couldn’t help the smile that tipped his lips. She was a hot mess stuck in the same virtual swamp, but she still managed to hold on to her moxie.
The door swung open, and she stood there wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a red-and-green Christmas sweater, despite the season. Her hair was in total disarray, and her eyes were bloodshot with the hangover he’d expected, even though it was two p.m. He grinned. “Hi, Mom.”
“Holy hell. Rexy?” She flew forward and wrapped him in her arms, and he hugged her back, inhaling the scents of stale vodka and Clinique Happy, the same perfume she’d worn for as long as he could remember. She pulled him into the house. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“I didn’t know if I’d be able to, until the last minute,” he said. “We finished a job early, but then I had to wait for some paperwork to come through. I called and left you a message on Monday and didn’t hear back. I’ve been staying at Grandpop’s for the last few days.” He’d finally looked up one of his mom’s old friends, and she’d hunted down the exact address where his mom was living.
“Well, shit. Sorry. I misplaced my phone last week and have been using one of those ones from the drugstore. I’ll give you the number before you leave.”
He closed the door and took a quick look around before she led him toward an open kitchen. It wasn’t the worst place they’d lived, but it was still cheap and messy, the carpet stained and the blinds missing several slats—things that could be easily fixed or inexpensively upgraded, but he knew from experience they never would be.
A large-screen television set weighed down a fiberboard stand that was far too small for such substantial electronics, and a gaming system and hundreds of video games littered the floor.
“Oh, you look so handsome. Sit down, and let me get you something to drink.” She opened the fridge. He noticed that she had the photo from just before he’d boarded the bus for boot camp hung on the front. That day felt so long ago. He’d been a boy. He’d thought he’d seen hardship, but he’d really had no idea what true suffering was until he’d set foot in a war zone across the world. “I’ve got sweet tea or diet pop. Water, too, but only tap.”
“I’m good, Mom. I just ate lunch a little bit ago.”
“Okay, well, I’m going to make myself a cup of coffee.”
“Where’s Saul?” he asked as she began filling the stained coffeepot with water. “Work?” The last he’d heard, his mom’s boyfriend worked at UPS as a delivery driver, which was a good job. He’d thought maybe she’d hooked up with a decent one at last, one who might marry her, put her on his health insurance, support them into their golden years with some savings and a pension.
“He got fired from that after a ... misunderstanding. He’s helping his friend Scooter with some house-painting jobs in the meantime.”
“Ah.”In the meantime.It was the story of his mom’s life. Okay, well, there went the hope about the health insurance and the pension. She was always going to struggle and would never cease latching on to people who enjoyed chaos like she did.Misunderstandingsthat he knew weren’t any such thing. Each time she seemed to get ahead, she did something to sabotage it. His grandpop, her dad, had certainly thrown slurs at her too. She’d tattooed them on her skin as well, but the difference between the two of them was that his mother had never stopped believing the lies. She’d become them. She’d sought out people who confirmed the identity she’d embraced. Maybe she even knew it, but what good did that do if she never made an effort to change?
Coffee brewing, she joined him at the table, and now that he was really looking at her, she not only looked tired, but older. It made his heart give a small squeeze because despite all her issues, he loved her, and it was a reminder that she wouldn’t be around forever.
“You’ve been staying at your grandpop’s, have you? I’m surprised you found a place to bed down. He turned it into a shithole. I didn’t even step foot inside these last few years. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. There was no room for more than one person among all the junk, and it smelled.”
“The couch was fine once it was cleared off,” he said with a small smile. “And it’s pretty comfortable actually. It’s going to be a lot of work to clean the rest of the place out. But ... I’ll be here for a couple of months, and I’m willing to do the work. The house is paid for, Mom. Would you consider moving in? If it was all spruced up?”
She picked up a vape pen from near the edge of the table. “God, no. Can you imagine? Every time I had sex, I’d picture that old geezer standing there, staring at me.”
“Jesus, Mom. Really?”
She laughed and pushed the button on her pen. “I’ll take the money from the sale and do something good with it. Maybe I’ll go back to school.”
The money would be gone in less than a year. And not on school or any other endeavor that might improve her circumstances. He knew her too well to imagine otherwise. But what could he do? He certainly didn’t want the property, and he knew she needed the money, even if it was only a temporary fix after too many years of bad choices. “Okay. It still needs to be cleaned up, though, or no one’s going to buy it for a decent price. I’ll put aside anything I think you might want and take the rest to the dump.”
“Take it all to the dump. There’s not a thing inside that hovel that I want.” She took another pull and seemed to consider something. “Unless it’s valuable. Then we’ll sell it.”
“I doubt there’s anything valuable in there. Grandpop would have sold it long ago. That’s all he did.” He’d collected junk and sold it for a higher price if he could. He obviously hadn’t gotten rich doing it, but he’d made enough to pay off his mortgage and take care of himself, such as it was.
