Page 22 of Red Zone Realizations
I pack my bag and prepare to head home, my mind wandering to when I’ll see Audrey tomorrow. Maybe I’m pushing it by making the next date so quick, but I don’t care. I also don’t care that it’s a Tuesday. Football keeps a weird schedule, and it was easier to set a time to see her. Even if I catch a fine for being late, I’d still see her because after years of focusing on nothing but the game, I’m ready to take a chance at something more.
Chapter Eleven
AUDREY
On Monday morning, there’s a knock at my door, pulling my focus from my spreadsheet. When I get up to answer it, I find Mom there. Sally Dupree is my equal height with curls from the eighties and too much perfume. She has a penchant for showing up at my house unannounced even though I haven’t lived at home since I graduated college. The only resemblance we bear is in the shape of our faces. Otherwise, I take after my father.
“What’s up, Mom?” I lean against the door, trying to squash any idea of her coming in. I have a meeting in forty-five minutes that I need to get ready for and can already see her peering around my house, assessing.
“I was just on my way to the shop, so I thought I would drop by.” Mom is at the shop on Rue Calais Street on Mondays, so this is kind of on her way there.
“That’s nice.”
“What are you up to?” She attempts to move through the door, and we have a two-second standoff when she realizes Iwon’t budge so easily. “Aren’t you going to offer your mother a cup of coffee?”
Mom is relentless in all her pursuits. Whatever she’s here to do or say, she’s going to do it, so I sigh and open the door wider.
She sweeps through the threshold and into the living room. “I see you weren’t expecting company.” She purses her lips. “Otherwise, I would think you’d have cleaned up a little.” She pointedly looks at the basket of unfolded laundry in front of my sofa. I feel the impulse to explain that this house is lived in, but bite my tongue. Hard to keep something spotless when you work from home. I suppose she wouldn’t understand that because when I was a kid, I did a lot of the cleaning. “I was working.”
“I see. How’s business?” The way she says “business” belies her wish that I had stayed with the shop.
“It’s keeping me super busy.” I hit start on the coffee machine, and it whirs to life.
I follow Mom’s eyes to the trash. “You’ve been eating out a lot, I see. You shouldn’t be working so hard that you don’t have time to cook.”
“It’s a tradeoff. Work more hours, make more money, and have less time to cook. It won’t be forever. Eventually I’ll get an assistant.”
“Sure, sweetie.”
I hand her a mug full of coffee. Passing her the milk, I restate my first question. “So, what’s up?”
She blows on her coffee, taking a tentative sip. “Well, Sarah and Tyler are fighting again. He’s taking the custody case back to court.”
Tyler and Sarah were high school sweethearts who got pregnant their sophomore year of college. After a few years inthe real world, things weren’t as good as they had been in college. They split when my nephew was two. Since the divorce, it’s been big dicking and custody battles out the wazoo. Tyler likes to fight for his time with Mikey, only to leave him with his mom while he and his new girlfriend (his former secretary) go out and “get a break.”
“That sucks. I hope they figure it out quickly.”
“Me too.” She stirs her coffee. “You know, it would all get settled so much faster if Sarah could afford a better lawyer.” I internally roll my eyes. It’s all clicking into place. Mom is here because she would never air out Sarah’s dirty laundry where anyone could hear.
This isn’t the first time she’s hinted at Sarah needing financial help. “She could always DoorDash while you watch the kid.”
Mom waves her hand, chasing that suggestion away. “Nonsense. That’s much too dangerous. She should be able to be at home with her kid. You must have some discretionary money since you’ve been working yourself to the bone.” Doesn’t she herself have three successful auto parts shops? Have they asked Lane for money? No, because they know exactly how much he makes.
“Even if I did…” I start, very annoyed. “That’s not the same as paying for a lawyer, and you know it. I want to help Sarah, I do. Maybe I could babysit so she could take on more tutoring hours?”
“If you had a maternal bone in your body, you’d have more sympathy for a single mother. Who also happens to be your sister, Audrey.”
“I wish she could get everything magically straightened out, but I don’t have the money to help.”
She sets her coffee cup on the counter. “I have to run, but we’ll discuss this more at Mikey’s birthday dinner.”
“I’m not sure there’s more to discuss. Money doesn’t grow on trees, as they say.”
“We’ll see.” She slides her huge bag over her shoulder and starts toward the door.
When she’s gone, I lean my hands against the cool granite countertop. I don’t want this to linger and ruin my time with Noah tomorrow. You would think it wouldn’t be hard to tell my mom that I won’t ever loan Sarah money because it makes family things too messy. I’m still not sure why she can’t give Sarah the money that she needs. That’s the parents’ job, not the siblings. That’s the thing, though, they never actually ask for money. There’s never a “please” or a “could you?”. It’s like there’s a knot in my chest with a string tied to my family, and I’m useless as it pulls me along. I’ve learned many times throughout my life that if you don’t bend a little when people pressure you, you’ll break. It’s for everyone’s benefit to just give a little. Right?
I slump into a chair, exhausted. I want a relationship with my mom like you see on TV, but sometimes I feel like we’re watching different channels. Maybe it would be easier for me to figure this out if I had someone standing behind me, holding me up. I thought Hunter would be that man, but he’s spineless.
