“Everything okay? We good.”
“Yeah. He’ll be here in like an hour to pick me up.”
“You going to stay over there?’
“Yeah. Guess so.”
“Alright, Wylla. Make sure you turn everything off and lock up before you go. Give me a hug.” She holds her arms open and folds them around me giving me a gentle squeeze. “See you Sunday night.”
I stand on the porch and watch as they speed away in Michael’s red sport’s car. I give it another month tops before they break u
p. East was her longest relationship, but they weren’t right for each other. He’s too good for her. I know it sounds awful because she’s my mother but it’s true. She always has two other men lined up before she ever breaks up with the current guy she’s dating.
Once I can no longer see the car speeding away, I go inside and pack my bag. I totally forgot to ask East if he can take me to my practice tomorrow for dance team. I’m sure he won’t mind. That’s the thing with East he never minds. Never brushes me off or makes it seem like I am annoying him. With my mom, I know she loves me I do, but I know she had me so young that sometimes the woman resents me because she didn’t have the chance to do normal stuff. She was forced to grow up fast, and it’s always been the two of us and her revolving door of boyfriends until he came into the picture. He treats me like I’m somebody. Treats me like I’m special. Since I was eight, he’s been there for me. More than anyone. He’s bought my school pictures, paid for any extras including paying up my lunch for the year, and giving me money on my birthday and Christmas. I never go without because of East.
When him and Mom broke up, I thought for sure after a few weeks he’d fall off and start ignoring me. Being too busy to take my calls but he’s answered almost every single time.
My phone vibrates
East- OMW. Be there in twenty.
I grab my toothbrush and deodorant then zip up my bag. I go through the house double checking to make sure Mom didn’t leave any candles burning or her hair straightener plugged in. She’s bad for that at times. Sometimes it appears like I take care of her. I get home before her in the evenings after school and usually have dinner ready when she gets in and a load of laundry going all while trying to finish my homework.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and fondle in the inner pocket for my door key then go out on the porch to watch for East.
He rolls up a few minutes later in his new truck. It’s totally wicked. All blacked out. He honks the horn twice and I dart across the lawn and he swings the door open, stretching across the seat to do so with his big tattooed hand. He has lots of tattoos. He’s gotten a few more over the years. I climb up into the massive vehicle and he turns down the volume of the stereo as classic rock pumps through the speakers.
“Thanks for doing this. Mom was in a jam as usual.”
East doesn’t comment. He never says anything bad about Mom though he is undoubtedly thinking it. He gets onto me anytime I say mean stuff, but he doesn’t have to live with her.
“Have you had dinner?”
I shake my head.
“Want me to run through a drive thru and get you something?
“Tacos?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Cool.”
We hit the drive-thru, and I eat on our way to the store. East always lets me go wild and get a bunch of the junk food that Mom refuses to buy. I try my best not to get any taco meat or sauce on his leather seats but it’s impossible. Cheese keeps dropping into my lap.
“Gonna have to get you a bib.” East chuckles. “You got some sauce on your mouth.” He hands me a napkin.
We get to the store and he waits patiently for me to finish my food. Doesn’t yell at me to hurry like my mom always does. She is always in a rush and running behind for something. She gets in a hurry for the men she sees but when it’s for me she doesn’t mind being late to pick me up from my practices for dance team or missing my performances in favor of going out with her flavor of the month. When she’s single though her depression kicks in. I swear the woman doesn’t know how to be alone. I don’t know how she will survive when I move out and leave for college in a few years.
“Okay, all done.” I wad up my wrapper and stick it down in the bag. I gather up my trash and dust out the seat then throw the brown paper bag in the garbage by the cart return.
“Cart or basket?” East questions once we get inside.
“Cart.”
“All right.” He grabs a cart and we start moving through the store. I grab my favorite cereal for in the morning and some candy. East grabs some chicken, Swiss cheese, mushrooms, and onions. He makes this great chicken for dinner that is to die for. I just ate tacos, but I am already excited to have that chicken tomorrow night.
“Hey, Wylla.” I turn my head and see Darin walking toward me in his basketball shorts and tee with the sleeves cut out. He’s starting to get some definition in his biceps. Last week he got his braces off.