Page 25 of Wild Embers
I shuffle in closer, leaning my hip on the dirty linoleum counter. “How are you doing?”
Mama grunts.
The bags under her eyes and the grease in her hair alarm me. “When’s the last time you ate?”
This wouldn’t be the first time she chose indulgences over taking care of herself. I can’t count the number of times I had to remind her to eat and shower. But I hoped that without me here, she would see the need and take care of herself.
I guess I was wrong.
“What do you care?” she snaps without taking her eyes off the screen.
“I care, Mama.” I sigh and push off the counter. Opening the fridge, I note the abundance of beer and the lack of anything of sustenance. Brown bananas, a jar of pickles, and a ketchup bottle. I try not to cringe. “You need groceries.”
“If you’re here to judge me, there’s the door.” Her gaze still on the TV, she points to the door.
Shutting the refrigerator, I move back into the living room with my arms crossed. “Please tell me you’re doing more than just buying booze with the money I send you every month.”
She snorts. “Is that where the money comes from?”
Dropping my arms, an invisible weight settles on my shoulders. “Where did you think it came from?”
She shrugs, putting out her cigarette on the ashtray next to her. “Never bothered to ask.”
Pressing the power button on the TV, I stand in front of the screen.
“Hey!” She shouts as she sits up in her chair.
“Come on, Mama. How about I cook you some dinner while you take a shower?” I reach for her hand, but she swats it away.
“No.”
The weight increases, pushing my shoulders down further. “I’m just trying to help.”
Mama glares at me. Something she’s done countless times before. I know what comes next. I’m ready for it. But her words are like a knife, cutting open a wound I thought healed long ago. “You’re nothing but a burden. A worthless, good-for-nothing burden.”
I swallow. “You don’t mean that.”
She sharpens her weapon, aiming with precision and accuracy. “You always have been. You drove away everything good in my life, like your father. You do nothing but take.”
Widening my stance, I place my hands on my hips. “I didn’t drive him away. He was depressed, and he only saw one way out.”
Mama pounds her fists on the armrests. “Bullshit! You’re the reason! It’s always because of you!”
“Please, just let me?—”
“I don’t want your charity.” Even though she’s sitting and I’m standing, she’s still able to look down her nose at me like I’m gum on the bottom of her boot. “Get out! Leave!” She gestures to the door again, and this time, I don’t argue.
But I stop in the kitchen and find a pen and paper. I jot down ten digits and hand them to her.
“Here’s my number. I’ll be in town for a bit. Call me if you need anything.”
She snatches the paper and crumbles it, adding it to the trash pile on the floor. “Don’t hold your breath.”
As I walk out, I hear her click the TV back on, and the voices of daytime soap actors fill the trailer.
Walking to my car, I can’t even feel the snowflakes landing on my face. The tears finally fall, and I let them.
I shouldn’t have come back.
