Page 122 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
“This won’t take long,” I call to Damon. He nods, but says nothing, so I turn back to the door and raise my hand to knock.
My knuckles hit the warped wooden screen door and rap three times, disturbing the cracked, faded paint. Once a light blue, it looks more like a dirty gray now. With every knock, the door bounces against the frame, amplifying the sound and adding in a squeak from the rickety hinges.
I wait for a few minutes and listen for any movement inside, but I hear nothing. There’s a beat-up truck and an old car in the driveway, and it’s too early in the day for her to be at the bar. She’s inside. She probably saw me pull up in the SUV and is hoping I’ll leave if she doesn’t answer.
“I know you’re home. Might as well open the door, ‘cause I’m not leaving ‘til I see you.”
I wait another minute before the inside door finally swings open, revealing my mother on the other side. Like the house, she looks rougher. Her long gray hair is hanging limply around her shoulders. Her eyes and cheeks are sunken in, both sporting sickly, haunting shadows. The wrinkles around her scowl are more pronounced, and she’s thin. Rail thin. My mother looks like the last year has been hard on her, and the cigarette hanging from her lips is just one piece of evidence as to why. Every time I see her, I tell myself I need to quit smoking, but by the time I leave, my nerves are frayed, and I settle for nicotine instead of something harder.
“Mom,” I greet with a nod. “Can I come in?”
She grunts. “If you must.”
My mom turns and heads into the house, so I follow. The whole place smells like cigarette smoke, and the old wallpaper has a yellow tinge to it.
“Called you on our birthday,” I say as she leads me into the kitchen.
“I know.”
“You could have answered.”
My mom gestures to the small round kitchen table. “I was busy.”
“Right.” I nod once, then narrow my eyes at her. “How are you?”
She takes a long drag from the cigarette, blowing the smoke out her nose before finally responding. “Fine. Don’t I look fine?”
I don’t answer. She doesn’t look fine. She looks like she’s one more forty-ounce away from the grave.
“That’s a real nice car you got outside. Only the best for a superstar like you.”
She sneers at me, nothing but resentment and jealousy in her expression. I take a deep breath, readying myself for the inevitable, and speak slowly. Calmly.
“You haven’t been cashing my checks.”
She arches a thin, gray eyebrow. “We don’t need your pity money.”
“It’s not pity, Mom. I want to help.”
“You missed your chance to help, Torren.”
It’s the same argument we always have, and I should probably just give up at this point, but I can’t. Not yet. Just like I can’t stop sending the checks even though I know she probably just lights them on fire.
“How’s Sean?”
Her sinister laugh is more like a cough as she snaps back at me. “Don’t pretend like you care.”
“Idocare, Mom. He’s my brother.”
She stubs her cigarette out in an overflowing ashtray on the table, then leans toward me.
“He’s doin’great, no thanks to you. Seein’ a real nice new girl down the road. Probably give me some grandbabies soon. Got a good job, too. Sean is better.”
I swallow back the urge to ask prying questions like,howoldis this girl he’s dating, andis the joblegal, and instead force myself to smile. I nod, hoping like hell what she says is true.
“That’s great. I’m glad he’s doing well.”
Her eyes narrow in my direction, and she throws me a look of pure hatred that I should be accustomed to by now, but it still fucking hurts. She won’t ask how I’m doing because she doesn’t care. She wouldn’t be happy to hear anything less than massive failures.
