No promises, he texted back, and then, Let’s not set the bar too high.
This time I sent the tongue out emoji and tucked my phone back into my pocket.
After making my way to the kitchen, I plated my mom’s dinner and braced myself for her response to my evening plans.
Pushing her bedroom door open with a quick knock, I sucked in a breath and inhaled the stench of stale sweat and medication.
Her voice was venomous when she caught sight of me. “Just where do you think you’re going?”
I sat the grilled chicken pasta salad from the coffee shop where I worked on her bedside table. It was her favorite—not that it was doing much to improve her mood at the moment.
The fact that I’d washed and dried my hair and put on makeup must’ve tipped her off that I had plans.
I scuffed the toe of my battered converse against the carpet. “To the carnival in Riverside with Camille and Drew. I’m taking Ethan.” I had already taken my little brother to his baseball workouts that morning, worked an eight-hour shift at High Octane—the coffee shop on the nearby college campus—picked Ethan up from his friend’s house, and cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom. “He went home with the Anderson’s after practice this morning. When I picked him up, he mentioned Caleb Anderson and several of his friends were going to the carnival tonight and asked if he could go.”
Her face twisted into a mask of disgust. “He asked you for permission instead of me?”
There was no correct answer to this question. I’d been more of a mother to Ethan than she had for as long as I could remember. But I didn’t have the time or energy for that discussion now.
“You were resting. He didn’t want to disturb you. Let me grab you something to drink.” I moved swiftly to the kitchen and poured a glass of sweet tea. When I carried it back to her room, she still hadn’t touched her food.
I moved the plate, along with a fork and a napkin, from the nightstand to the bed.
“So, you’re just going to leave me here? Alone? What if I fall? What if something happens to me?” She narrowed her eyes on me. “How did I raise such selfish, ungrateful brats?”
I should have been ready for the harsh words, but I winced anyway. Involuntary reflex.
“It’ll only be a few hours and Drew’s mom said to call if you need anything. She’ll be home all night. She has the code to the keypad on the front door. If I can’t reach you for any reason, I’ll send her over to check on you.”
Drew Echols was my best friend, had been since sixth grade when we b
oth moved to our neighborhood from out of state within a few months of one another. My dad’s job sent us here from Dallas, Texas. Drew was a military kid who’d lived all over. He was much more cultured than most of the residents in Elksboro, the small coastal town where we’d ended up. We’d been outsiders together throughout middle school. By freshmen year, we’d quit caring if anyone else included us or not.
His mom was one of the few people who knew about my mom’s diagnosis. She and Drew had come into the coffee shop earlier that afternoon and convinced me I needed to get out of the house and do something fun for a change.
I definitely didn’t tell my mother that part. She’d likely backhand Ms. Echols on sight if I did.
I didn’t want to upset her. But I had to admit, cotton candy and carnival games sounded like fun. So far, my entire summer had been an endless exhausting cycle of taking care of my mom, running Ethan to and from baseball, working at the coffee shop, and the two classes I was taking at Southeastern University to increase my chances of landing an internship in the fall.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
“Anything could happen in a few hours, Emersyn. I could die.” She teared up instantly, causing a familiar ache in my chest. “I guess you’d be glad if I did. So, you could focus on your friends and your own life and not have to worry with me at all.”
“Mom, for goodness sakes.” I lowered myself onto the edge of her bed. “Don’t talk like that.”
“I mean it,” she sniffed. “Sometimes it feels like you and Ethan would be better off without me.”
Sometimes it did feel like that, so I didn’t deny it. I didn’t want anything to happen to her. I just wished she wasn’t so angry and hateful all the time.
Things were already bad when she first got diagnosed with Lupus last year. It was a million times worse when my dad admitted he’d been having an affair and moved to California three months ago. Now it was the end of July and my mother’s volatile temper seemed to be increasing with the heat.
“You know we love you, Mom. Ethan was just saying he wished you felt well enough to come to some of his games.”
Not that she ever really did. That was dad’s thing. She always said baseball bored her.
“Great, now you’re trying to make me feel guilty.” She pushed the plate containing her pasta away and it spilled onto the comforter. I retrieved a hand towel from her bathroom and cleaned the mess. “You’ve ruined my appetite. Just go. I’m sick of looking at you.”
I swallowed my hurt feelings and stood, placing what food I could salvage back onto the plate. “You need to eat, whether you’re mad at me or not. I’ll be home soon. I love you.”