Mother (25 page)

Burke coughed, snorted, and exhaled a stream of boozy sour breath into her face. The stink of yeast, bacteria, and alcohol wafting from his mouth and pores turned her stomach. She jabbed him hard in the sternum with her elbow. Not because he was invading her space but because she could. Burke gurgled, groaned, and mumbled, then resumed snoring.

That was the next thing on Geneva-Marie’s agenda. To leave Burke Collins. She just had to get her finances in order - and that was going to take a while. But it would happen. She solemnly vowed: It would happen.
 

Claire took a final bite of her peanut butter, jelly, and Parmesan cheese sandwich. She’d drawn the line at buying a can of aerosol EZ Cheese during the last trip to the supermarket she and Jason had taken - sans Mother, of course. Even though she’d really wanted it, she just couldn’t respect herself if she had canned cheese in the house. Jason had looked disgusted enough when she’d first begun sprinkling Parmesan on her PB & Js -
He’d probably vomit if he knew what I was thinking now
- and for that reason, she’d waited until he was in bed to make it. She sucked a glob of peanut butter off her thumb and went to the fridge for a sweet dill pickle and maraschino cherries - which she ate together. It was delectable. This pregnancy business was crazy and she’d had just about enough if it. But it was a great excuse to try new, disgusting things.

She could
not
stop thinking of EZ Cheese. She sighed, disgusted with herself. It occurred to her she’d seen a can of it in Mother’s kitchen cupboard. She took her moral temperature:
Will I be able to live with myself?
It didn’t take long to decide that, yes, she would. Since she was starting her diet tomorrow anyway, she figured she’d better live it up tonight. She stood and checked on Jason - he was sleeping soundly - before slipping out of the apartment.

The lights were on, so she knew her mother was still up. She’d been hoping that wouldn’t be the case. She was in no mood for Mother -
Am I ever?
- but it would be worth it. The promise of EZ Cheese urged her on.
 

Through the window, she saw Mother in the kitchen. She wore a light blue nightdress with a lacy collar and sleeves with delicate pearls sewn into them. Her makeup had been washed off, minimizing the size of her eyes - of all of her features.

Claire rapped on the door.

“Car-Claire,” said Mother. “Is everything okay?” She stepped out of the way and allowed Claire inside. The absence of her perfume was a nice reprieve. “It’s not Jason, is it?”

“No, Mother. He’s fine. He’s sleeping like a baby. I just wondered if you had any …” she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
 

“Any what, dear?”

“EZ Cheese. I’ve been having the strangest cravings.”

Mother laughed. It was a hearty, warm sound. She placed a hand on Claire’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “When I was pregnant, I couldn’t get enough fish. Have you had that craving yet?”

Claire considered as Mother opened a cupboard and reached inside.
Fish?
It sounded damned good, actually. She wondered what frozen fish sticks would taste like slathered in a thick coat of EZ Cheese. Or peanut butter. Or both.
 

Mother proffered the can of cheese and Claire took it, her mouth watering as her hand closed around the cool cylinder.
 

“Would you care to sit down?” Mother placed several kinds of munchies - sweet and salty - on the table.
 

Claire eyed the ranch-flavored corn chips and wondered how they’d go with the EZ Cheese. Probably great, but not as good as with chocolate chip cookies. Or Oreos.

“Don’t worry,” said Mother with a wry smile. “No judgment here. Do what you have to do.”

Claire sat down and stared at the buffet of junk food. Her stomach growled.

“It will be our secret, I promise.” Mother sat.

“I don’t know where to start!” Claire laughed.

Mother reached into a bag of Oreos and placed several of them in front of Claire. She didn’t bat an eye when Claire squirted a cheese flower on top of one and popped it in her mouth.

“Would you like some milk?” Mother stood.

Claire nodded, her mouth too full of bliss to speak. It was everything she’d dreamed it would be.

Mother poured them each a glass and sat down next to Claire. She ate one cookie - if you could call it eating. She dissected the Oreo with surgical precision, removing the white filling with a look of distaste, and nibbled the edges of the black wafers. “How is your morning sickness?”

Claire nodded and swallowed. “Better. But the hardest part has been the fatigue. I’ve been terribly sleepy.”

“Well, you know you should see a doc-”

“I know, Mother. I did. And she prescribed me vitamin B injections. I don’t much care for giving myself shots, but it really helps my exhaustion.” She stuffed an Oreo into her mouth. “Eliminates it, actually.”

Mother nodded. “It isn’t uncommon for pregnant women to have vitamin deficiencies. So much nutrition goes to the baby. I was very deficient during my pregnancies.”

“Both of them?”

Mother went still. “I’ve been pregnant
three
times, as a matter of fact.”

Claire tipped her head. “Three? But …”

“I had a miscarriage,” said Mother. “After you were born.”

Mother stared down at her hands and Claire could see the pain in her eyes. “I had no idea,” said Claire. “How come you never told me?”

Mother sighed. “It never came up. And it isn’t a pleasant memory. It was a very difficult time for me.”

Claire wanted to ask more questions -
when had this happened exactly? It must have been before Dad had his accident, right? And what caused the miscarriage? Was there a reason it had happened?
- but when she opened her mouth to ask, Mother made it clear that the subject was closed.

“The point is, if you’re craving something, it’s probably just what you need.” Mother placed her hand over Claire’s.

Claire stuffed another cheese-covered Oreo in her mouth. As she ate, her mother told her about her own pregnancy cravings, and Claire found herself almost enjoying the woman’s company. It was like talking to a different person, as if the removal of her perfume and makeup had washed away her other bad qualities as well.

On a private, long-hidden level, it moved her that Mother had confided in her. The miscarriage was obviously a tender topic, and that she’d exposed something so painful seemed a show of trust - a wave of the white flag, perhaps - and for the first time, Claire saw her mother as more than just her mother. She saw her as a woman. And that she’d never even heard of her mother’s miscarriage before made her feel like a terrible daughter.

“Oh!” said Mother. “I almost forgot. I’ve found Mr. Anton!”

“You did?” She felt a surge of joy.

“He was in Timothy’s room, of all places. I left him on the bed for you. I thought you’d like that.” Her smile was warm.
 

Claire’s emotions were unstable indeed, because she had an urge to hug her. But she didn’t. “And speaking of your brother, I’m taking a trip to the cemetery tomorrow to visit him. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

“I’m afraid I can’t. The doctor wants Jason to rest tomorrow and I’d like to keep a close eye on him. Plus, I’ll be busy with some work projects. I’ve acquired several new clients.”

“That’s wonderful, dear.” There was an unpleasant edge in her tone.

Claire ignored it. “Thank you, Mother … for finding Mr. Anton.”

Mother’s eyes warmed. “Of course, Claire. You can go up and get him whenever you please. He’s waiting for you.”

Claire was pleased to hear Mother use her chosen name; she wasn’t even stumbling over the word. “I’ll get him now. I’d better get back soon and get some sleep.”

Mother stood and put the milk away. She smiled at the junk food. “Take whatever you want with you. And you’re sure you won’t join me tomorrow to visit your brother’s grave?”
 

“I’m sure. Maybe next time.”

“Very well. I’ll tell Timothy you said hello.”

It was an odd comment. Odd and sad. Claire made no reply.

“You mentioned that you don’t like giving yourself the vitamin shots,” Mother said. “Remember, I
am
a registered nurse with vast experience - you won’t feel a thing.”

Claire found that an unpleasant idea. “Thank you, Mother, but I can manage.”

Mother smiled. “I need to get some sleep myself. Lock the door on your way out, will you, Claire?”

“I will.” Again, Claire almost hugged her mother. It was natural that during her pregnancy she would have unfamiliar maternal feelings. She thought this was just part of that.
Or maybe it’s because she’s using my name and acting like a human being.
Whatever it was, it was nice.

Mother smiled then turned and left the room.
 

Claire ate another cheesy Oreo, listening as Mother headed upstairs. She could hear the stairs creak, then the hall, under her footsteps. Almost directly overhead, Mother unlocked Dad’s door, went in, spoke briefly, then moved on down the hall, her footfalls loud in the utter silence of the house. Finally, Claire heard the door to Mother’s room at the far end of the hall open and close, then water running and the flush of the toilet. Still, she waited. Finally, she heard the creak of footsteps and what had to be the bed settling as Mother climbed in with her freeze-dried pets.
 

Claire killed a few minutes nibbling another desecrated cookie, then headed upstairs and padded down the hall to her big brother’s room. Her stomach knotted around the junk food as she laid her hand on the knob; part of her expected to see Tim look up at her and grin.
How you doin’, Little Sister?
And then he’d sing a line of Billy Idol’s
White Wedding
. How Mother hated that. She said Billy Idol - and all of his contemporaries - made devil music.

Smiling to herself, Claire opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her. Only a slit of light from the streetlamp shone between the curtains. She put her hand on the light switch but waited, soaking up atmosphere. She recognized the faint scent of her brother within the room.
It’s all the old clothing and shoes Mother stuck in here.
She wondered if Tim’s scent was on the bed pillow.
If it is, I’d like to take it.
 

Or would that make me as weird as Mother?
“Timmy, I miss you so much,” she murmured. Then she turned on the light.

Mr. Anton, his gold fur a little scruffy, his big green bow freshly retied, sat in the middle of her brother’s bed, staring at her with his big black button eyes. She picked him up and hugged him. “You’re going to make a new baby very happy.” She turned, caught her reflection in the mirror, then saw the little green GI Joe soldiers. They were lined up on the dresser, weapons pointed directly at her.

“What the-”
 

Were they there the other day?
She couldn’t remember.
That’s just weird.
Hugging the bear to her, she walked over to the closet and opened it. The little soldiers who had huddled together on the shelf above the clothing rod were no longer there.

Why did Mother move them?
She shook her head.
Why does Mother do anything?

She glanced at the spot under the bed where Timothy’s hidey-hole was located and wished she dared get into it, but knew Mother would hear her. She glanced at the soldiers again.
Why did she move them?
She glanced at the hidey-hole again.

She decided to come back tomorrow, while Mother was at church. The first time she’d been in here she hadn’t taken anything, because she’d felt like she was invading her brother’s privacy, but the more she’d thought about it, the more she felt he would want her to look.
There may even be something he’d want me to find.

As she stole back down the stairs, she heard her mother’s bedroom door click open, but she didn’t look back.

“I miss you so much,” Prissy Martin said.
 

Jason, unable to sleep, had tiptoed out to the Prius to see if his missing seizure meds had rolled under the seat. They hadn’t, but when he heard Prissy open the back door, he’d ducked and waited, listening as she unlocked the potting shed. She left its door ajar, so he didn’t dare move, and when she’d begun speaking, he froze.
 

“Oh, my little boy, my heart breaks every time I visit your grave. I hope you like your violets.”

Jason wished he could walk away, knowing this was a private moment that ought to be respected, but the woman’s words - and her pain - transfixed him.

“Timothy … Oh, Timothy. Why did you leave me?
Why?
” She began to cry, horrible wracking sobs that sounded a little too theatrical.

In spite of himself, Jason strained to hear the jagged breaths, the soft keening between her words.

“Was I a good mother, Timothy? Tell me what I did wrong. What made you leave me? What was so bad that you couldn’t go on?” She sobbed for several moments - a heartbreaking sound. “My baby,” she mewled. “My sweet, sweet baby. My boy ...”

Jason’s heart sank and churned. He thought of his own unborn son, tried to imagine the worst, but shied away, his parental instincts forcing distance between himself and the painful thought.
I can’t even bring myself to imagine losing a child. And this woman is living it.
 

Prissy took a shuddering breath. “I always thought time would heal my heart. That’s what they say, Timothy - that time heals all.” She keened. “But it isn’t true! It’s a lie! My heart will stay broken until we’re reunited in heaven.”
 

Jason felt like an intruder. And an asshole, to boot.
We shouldn’t have made fun of her.
His vision blurred and he realized he was tearing up.
She’s pushy and eccentric, but we’ve demonized her, made her into a monster ... laughed at her.
 

“Timothy,” Prissy whispered. “Come back to me.”

A tear slipped from his eye and Jason stepped away, unwilling to eavesdrop any longer. It was a private moment, and he would respect that. Glancing at the doorway, he saw no sign of his mother-in-law, so he went upstairs, vowing to keep her private moment to himself. It was the least he could do.