Page 91 of Love & Other Disasters

“Who knows.”

“Does he really help out?”

“Yeah, sometimes. But it’s difficult for him to empathize with anything outside of his world.”

He scratched the top of his head. That was a polite way of calling him selfish.

That night, he pushed through the door at his mom’s house bone tired. Linda had given him the keys to the house and told him to sleep there, and not a hotel. He made his way upstairs without bothering with the lights. There were sheets already on the guest bed. He took a shower and climbed in. His mom’s surgery was a success, and she was resting comfortably in a room. Adding even more distress to the situation, she couldn’t recall why she’d walked out of her house, across town, and into the woods. Now, they waited on the results of the MRI.

J.P. plugged his phone in and stared at the screen. The urge to call Violet and tell her about everything that happened was overwhelming. He wanted to talk to her, see her, and hold her again. His finger hovered over her name on the screen. But would she answer? So far, she hadn’t, and he shouldn’t keep pushing where he wasn’t wanted. And even though he needed her support more than anything, he couldn’t force her forgiveness.

The following morning, he surveilled the total chaos that was his mother’s house. How did Ethan let it end up this way? Crusted on burned food in three pots left on the stove, a sink full of dirty dishes, and opened, unfinished food wrappers scattered about. What the hell happened

here? He ran his fingers through his hair and stepped to look at the living room and its piles of paper, clothing, boxes, and unidentifiable mess filled the room. The fireplace had tape in a giant x over the entire thing. And a handwritten “no” sign taped to the mantle.

“Why is mom’s house such a mess?” he asked when Ethan answered the phone.

“I don’t know. She wanted it that way.”

“She wanted to live in filth?”

“I guess. She stopped cleaning. You’ll have to ask her.”

“Why didn’t you help her keep it clean?”

“Dude, I have a job and a family forty minutes away. I don’t have time to be someone’s maid. Don’t you get it? I’ve been telling you this for months. You’ve been gone for years. Don’t you lecture me. It’s your turn. You do better.”

“Since you’ve done literally nothing, I don’t think that’ll be hard.” When no response came, he pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the screen. Ethan had hung up.

The house, at one time, had been immaculate and would take a bit of elbow grease to return it to its former glory. He didn’t have the time to deal with it, but had to get it back at least clean before she came home. But first, coffee. There didn’t appear to be any that he could locate in the cabinets, and the refrigerator was filled with expired products and a homemade penicillin starter kit. He had to go shopping.

A cork board on the kitchen wall had photos lined up. A photo of Ethan, Celeste, and their children. Under each person, someone had handwritten their names. A photo of him along with ones of people he didn’t recognize, all labeled. It looked like the wall of mug shots down at the post office.

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