“Well what does Dad say about this guy being here when no one is home?”
Mom turned around, glaring at me. “He doesn’t say anything, son, because I’m a grown ass woman running a business.” Mom dug in her purse, pulling out a small bottle of Purell to dollop in her hand. She exhaled, when I frowned, feeling like the idiot I was. She rubbed the gel between her fingers as she stood in front of me. “Besides, he’d have to pay attention long enough to know that Cass is here.”
That wasn’t the first time she’d made a comment like that and the idea that something could be wrong with my parents set like a rock in the pit of my stomach. They were stupid for each other, but I’d picked up a vibe since I’d returned for the recital that something was going on with them. When my mother shrugged, distracted herself with tossing her purse on the sofa and slipping her thin sweater off her shoulders, I stopped her, holding her arm, keeping her still long enough for her to look at me.
“Mom, what the hell is going on with you two?”
Six full seconds passed as she watched me. I counted. There were small shadows beneath her eyes, almost as deep and dark as there had been a decade before when Makana was the parasite sucking the energy from her. Now she just seemed worn, exhausted for reasons I knew that went further than how hectic her life had become in the past few months.
Finally, when I moved my head, squinting to really look at her expression, Mom lowered her shoulders, pulling free of my touch to rub the bridge of her nose. “Life, that’s all.” I wasn’t buying it, maybe she saw that in my expression, because then my mother smiled, a wide gesture that I guessed was meant to ease me, before she touched my face, inspecting the fading welt on my cheek. Satisfied I’d live, she continued in a nonchalant way. “We’re fine, just both incredibly busy unlike we’ve ever been before. He has the championship and I have the label.” She stepped back, tossing her purse on the sofa table. “In between that we have a family to raise. We’ve just been missing each other a little bit.” When my expression tightened, worry pinching my mouth, Mom shook her head again. “Ransom, relax. Things will settle down again after the season ends.”
“Mom…”
One head shake, a quick raised hand and my questions were dismissed. If my mother didn’t want you prying into her business, no matter who you were, you weren’t going to get in there. She switched gears quickly, pulling her phone from her purse before she walked around the living room, picking up my siblings’ mess as I followed behind her. “Why were you fighting with Aly?”
“It’s…it was nothing.” I scratched my chin, suddenly feeling drained from my run and the cluster fuck that had been Aly’s visit.
“You need to fix this. I told you, son.” She tossed a pair of Koa’s shoes and several of Mack’s books in my arms as she picked up a miniature pair of youth shoulder pads and lead me up the stairs and into my kid brother’s room. All around us was an assortment of young teenage crap—posters on the wall of the Hawaiisn Kahuku High School’s Red Raiders football team, shots of Dad and me that the NFL still sold, autographed footballs from my Dolphins teammates and the Steamers, New Orleans’ pro team, walls of books from Minecraft to Star Wars novels. The walls were gray, but CPU blue accented the room in the bedspread, on the windows, even the small Blue Devils figurines that covered his desk. “You can’t get in her way,” Mom said, straightening Koa’s half-made bed. “You’ve got to show her that she matters without pressuring her. Let her see what she’s missing.”
“I know that,” I said, tossing the shoes into his closet. We moved into Mack’s girly pink accented room with her dance posters on the light gray walls and a Hogwarts map over her white metal framed bed. I set the books on the shelf above her desk as Mom made the rumpled bed. “I just forgot.”
“Forgot?” she said, nodding for me to take the other side of the comforter.
“I was an asshole.” Again I rubbed my neck, frustrated that my mother’s small advice could unravel the good vibe I’d drummed up for myself with Aly’s visit, before our fight. Mom stopped tucking in the cover, holding one of the fluffy pink pillows over her chest as she adjusted its case. “I’ll go talk to her,” I promised. Mom’s expression darkened like she didn’t believe me and I shook my head, dismissing her worry. “I’ll be nice, I promise.”