“Mom, what are you doing here?”
She looks worse than the last time I saw her. The dark roots of her hair are bleeding into the platinum, and the fairy lights deepen the bruise-colored half circles beneath her eyes. Her signature red lips are too present on her washed-out face. I wrap my arms around her, but she feels different to me. Slight and insubstantial, an autumn leaf that could whirl away in the breeze. And she doesn’t hug me back.
“This is a real nice setup you’ve got here.” She touches a dangling vine on the philodendron hanging above the sink, then skims her fingertips along the countertop to the book I was reading. “Is this all it took to win you over to his side, Callie? Some books and a couple of expensive gadgets?”
“It’s not like that.” Except when she says it like that it makes me wonder if I have been seduced by stuff.
She picks up my cell phone and cocks her head at me. I can look up things on the Internet with that phone. It was expensive. “Oh?”
“Mom—”
“You left me there in jail.” The phone clatters when she drops it on the counter. “And went off with him as if I didn’t even exist.”
“That’s not true,” I say. “I didn’t have a choice. He’s my father.”
She lights a cigarette and I wince, thinking about the mini-lecture I just received from Greg about my pretend smoking habit. Then I feel bad for worrying about what he thinks. Maybe she’s right. She blows out a stream of smoke. “There’s always a choice, Callie.”
“What could I have done?”
“Well.” She drops down on the couch and props her feet up on the table. The black velveteen of her favorite ballerina flats is worn thin and the heels are rubbed down to nothing. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”
I’ve hidden some of the pocket money Greg has given me in the body of my guitar, and I have my pay from the gift shop now. There’s no reason why I couldn’t leave.
“I’m sorry.” I sit down beside her, not sure why I’m apologizing. I could ask her where she thinks I could have gone on my own, or how I would have found her, but this is my mother. She believes all of this is somehow my choice. And even though I know it’s her personality disorder that makes her believe this, I can’t silence the tiny voice in my head that agrees. “Aren’t you worried that you’ll be caught?”
Her face softens and she gives me a grin that dimples her cheek. “You should know by now that I’m excellent at not being found. And anyway, I won’t be here much longer. As soon as I have enough money for us to start over, we can get out of here.”
“How much did you get for the computer?”
“Fifty bucks.”
“Can you get it back?”
She laughs. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because it was mine,” I say. “You stole it from me.”
She reaches out and touches my hair. It’s comforting and familiar and I want to press my head into her hand for more. I want her affection back. “We can go to Colorado the way we planned or”—I see the excitement flicker to life in her eyes as she ignores my question completely—“anywhere. We can go anywhere we want, Callie. We can be free.”
Free.
“I, um—” In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve found a job, a friend—even as turbulent as our best-friendship has been so far—and a parent who grounds me when I mess up. Greg’s been a safety net when I fall. And that’s a kind of freedom I would have never expected. But none of this is what she wants to hear. I smile and rest my head on her bony shoulder. “Sounds good, Mom.”
My cell phone buzzes with an incoming text message. She reaches for it and I see Alex’s name flash across the screen. “Ooh, Alex,” she teases. “Let’s see what Alex has to say.”
“Mom—” I make a grab for the phone, but she holds it out of my reach as she fumbles for the button that will reveal his message. I stand and lunge for it, ripping it from her grasp.
Her eyebrows lift.
“Interesting.” Her voice is soft as I pocket the phone without reading his message, even though I’m dying to know what he said. “Is he Greek?”
I never told her about any of the other guys I’ve been with because they weren’t worth mentioning, but now—Alex might be worth it, and I’m afraid telling her will ruin everything. “He—he’s nothing.”
“Obviously.” She laughs and stubs out her cigarette in the candle again. I make a mental note to get rid of it before Greg sees. “Be careful with those Greek boys, though. They’ll break your heart.”
Except I know better. I’ve seen the photos in the red leather album that tell a different story about who’s heart was broken.
“I have to go to work in the morning,” I say. “You can stay with me tonight if you want, but you should probably be gone before Greg and Phoebe get up at seven.”
Leaving her sitting on the couch, I go into the bathroom to read Alex’s text.
It’s dark out tonight and the sky is thick with stars. I think you’d love it.
I lean against the bathroom wall and close my eyes, trying to picture what he sees. Imagining him at the wheel of his boat as he heads out into the dark water of the Gulf of Mexico. I look out my little window but the sky is obscured by trees and houses. I send a message back, just four words.
I’m sure of it.
The phone buzzes again.
I’m about to lose signal, but don’t make any dates this weekend.
My mouth spreads to a mile-wide smile, as I answer.
Too late. Unless you’ve got plans with someone else on Saturday night.
Buzz.
I’m all yours.
I stand there, attempting to think of a clever response, but my brain has abandoned my head and taken off for the party my heart is throwing in my chest. I’m all yours. I can’t stop smiling as I brush my teeth and change into my pajamas. I’m all yours. I arrange my face into a less incandescent expression so Mom won’t ask questions, but by the time I come out of the bathroom, she’s already tucked beneath the covers of my bed.
Typical.
Most everywhere we’ve lived she’s chosen the best sleeping space, claiming that because she worked, she needed a good night’s sleep. That usually left me with the too-short couch, or the uncomfortable foldout sofa, or the sleeping bag on the floor. That was the worst, especially when it was cold. Although the Airstream’s couch converts to a full-size bed, I climb in beside my mother, something I haven’t done since I was very small. She rolls onto her side and faces the wall, giving me what little room is left.
“Mom?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“I’ve got money,” I whisper. “If you can get my computer back, I’ll give you some of it. Just—please?”
I wait, but she doesn’t reply, except for the deep, even breaths that come with sleep. I shift so my back is against hers, stealing a little comfort from the soft vibration of her snores. Except my happiness that she’s here is eroded by worry that Greg is going to discover her in his own backyard, and I can’t sleep. What am I going to do when she’s raised enough money to leave? My life is complicated now and I’m no longer so certain I can just walk away from my dad. And this time I’m old enough to have a choice.
I draw Toot up under my chin and stroke my finger across the soft wales of a brown corduroy patch, the way I used to do when I was a little girl. It’s as soothing now as it was back then and I finally fall asleep.
When my alarm goes off the next morning, Mom is already gone.
“I can’t ask Kat because she’s already left for school.” Phoebe’s cell phone is wedged between her ear and shoulder, as she scoops oatmeal into a bowl on Joe’s high chair tray. He dips his fingers into the steamy mush. “Use your spoon,” she says, before returning to her call. “Are you sure you can’t come home? What about your mom? Do you think she could watch the boys?”
Tucker wriggles off his chair, saying my name over and over until it becomes a string of sound—calliecalliecalliecallie—and attaches himself to my leg. “Pick me up.”