“Go inside, I got this,” I say as I move her out of the way and scoop up the three grocery bags in one hand. I step away from the trunk as she closes it and walks inside holding the door for me.
“Thank you,” she says as I deposit the bags onto the kitchen island. I start riffling through them until I find the package of Tastykakes.
“Don’t eat them ye—” Mom shouts as I push a whole one into my mouth.
“What?” I ask around a mouthful of cake and she shakes her head.
“I’m about to make dinner—don’t eat anymore,” she warns and turns to start putting the groceries away,
I slip another cake out of the packet and stuff it into my mouth thinking I’ve gotten away with it. She has her head in the refrigerator and calls out to me without even turning around.
“Do you think I’m stupid Ethan? Stop shoveling down cakes.”
What is it about moms? Do they have an invisible third eye in the back of their heads or something?
“I’m not,” I reply.
She straightens and turns to look at me. “You're a terrible liar Ethan.” She says tutting her disapproval and I roll my eyes.
It’s funny how backward she seems to have her priorities. She’ll speak up to stop me from ruining my dinner, but not to save me from a beating. I don’t remember our relationship always feeling this strained. I guess over time and the more frequently Dad lashes out, the more I resent her. It’s no wonder I don’t like spending time at home, I’m not the least bit comfortable here and she must sense it. We’ve fallen into the trap of make believing we’re a normal family when Dad’s not on the scene. But it’s fake, and we both know it.
“Go wash up for dinner. It won’t take long.” Her voice is laced with an emotion I can’t quite put my finger on. Worry, maybe.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer and head upstairs to take a quick shower. I need to let the hot water soak my aching shoulders. I’ve spent hours at the piano and then on my guitar today. I only went outside to shoot hoops so I could get some fresh air.
It takes me less than ten minutes under the hot spray to feel better. I climb out of the shower and head back into my room to grab a fresh pair of underwear. I dress quickly in an old pair of jeans and a faded Stones t-shirt that I’ve had forever.
I make my way down to the kitchen and Mom’s sitting at the table waiting on me. I take my seat across from her and she gives me a weak smile.
“How’s your day been?” she asks. It’s one of those questions she’s not really concerned about the answer to. I could probably tell her that I hung out with a bunch of gangsters and robbed the convenience store and she’d nod her head and say, ‘that’s nice, dear’.
“Okay, yours?” I reply instead.
“Getting better.” She takes the serving spoons and deposits a huge mass of spaghetti onto my plate.
“I was wanting to have a talk to—” my cell ringing cuts her off. I stand up to get it out from my back pocket and she shoots me the glare. “No cell phones at the dinner table, Ethan. You know the rules.”
I look down at the screen and notice it’s Blair’s name flashing.
“Chill, Mom, he’s not here,” I say as I sit back down and answer the call.
Mom throws her arms up in defeat and then busies herself fixing a plate of her own.
“Hey babe, what you up to?” Blair’s cheery voice echoes in my ear.
“Just about to have dinner, you?”
“I’m starving! My mom’s not home from work yet so I was waiting to eat with her, but she just texted that she was working late on some account. Anyway, enough about that. I wanted to know if we could get together and plan this trip?” She sounds like an overexcited kid on Christmas Eve.
“Come over here, I’ll feed you and then we can make plans?” I ask, looking at my mom for confirmation. She leans back in her chair and drops her fork onto her plate dramatically. I’m guessing she’s not happy with my invite, but it’s done now so she’ll have to get over it.
“Okay, if you’re sure, I’ll come now.”
“Okay Princess, see you in a few.” I end the call tossing my cell onto the table.
“Hope you don’t mind,” I offer as Mom sits forward again and sighs before answering.
“No honey, that’s fine.” The words coming out of her mouth don’t match the mood she looks to be in.
“Anyway, you were saying something before she called?” I tilt my chin waiting for her to continue.
“Nothing important,” she says around a sip of her wine. “Let me cover this food and we’ll all eat together when Blair gets here.”
“Okay…Mom is everything alright?” She looks tired and worn out, her dark hair is devoid of any shine, and her skin looks pasty and pale. She’s a beautiful woman, don’t get me wrong. I have to put up with a shit ton of comments about her from the guys, but today she’s really not looking her best. She’s tiny anyway, but today she seems to look even smaller.