I shook my head. “I don’t think it’s something I want, anyway.”
She laid her chin atop my head. “I asked too much of you,” she said again.
This time, I didn’t deny it.
Later, when I woke from another restless nap to the sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen, I found Mom doing something I never believed she’d be capable of.
A cardboard box stood on the counter, Dad’s things spilling out of it. Mom folded a jacket that had hung over the chair for five years and placed it inside.
“Mom?”
When she looked up, she smiled a tentative smile. Then she glanced over the kitchen and dining area, her eyes lingering on the living room that lay mostly in darkness, apart from the commercials playing on mute on her TV. She studied her house as if it was a stranger’s.
“It’s time,” she said.
My heart began to race. “You sure?” I never thought this moment would come.
She nodded, grabbing a roll of plastic bags. “I think this house could do with some decluttering. Maybe a color change, too.” Her cheeks flushed with color. She craned her neck, then went to turn on all the lights. “I always wanted pink walls. Your dad never liked the idea of it.” She turned to face me. I could swear she looked lighter. Younger. An immense relief washed over me. “You think the hardware store is still open?”
Chapter Forty
Who cares about the neighbors? Not Mom.
I make a smashing Columbia.
Happiness is more than great O.
“You sure you want to leave the house like this? It’s freezing out,” Mom asked.
She still had pink paint splattered in her usually immaculate hair. She wore overalls. OVERALLS. We’d found them while bagging Dad’s old things. She last wore them when she was pregnant with me.
I stared at myself in the mirror-door of my old wardrobe, the one covered in peeling punk band stickers. For the first time, I was glad Mom hadn’t thrown away everything. When we emptied a box of her clothes from the '80s and a heap of glitter assaulted my eyes, an idea sprang to life. I might regret this later, but how much lower can a person sink?
My parents used to love participating inFasching, the German carnival held every February when the streets were stillfrozen. They’d wear half-skimpy outfits and start drinking at 8 a.m.
The black top hat I wore now had once belonged to Dad, and the glitter corset was Mom’s. I slipped sparkly shorts over my fishnet tights. My mirror image was a poor imitation of theRocky Horrorcharacter Columbia, but it would have to do.
Everything seemed a little lighter today. Mom’s face was like a sunbeam that had broken through a roof of dark clouds.
“I really gotta sell this. The more ridiculous I look, the better.” After I covered my eyelids with a thick layer of glitter, Mom handed me my spelling bee statue from 5th grade.
“You got this.”
“Thanks. And if not, at least the entire neighborhood will have something to talk about.”
She shrugged, blowing a loose curl out of her face. “Who cares about the neighbors?”
I stared at her in mock shock. “Who are you?”
She nudged my chin. “Auf gehts. Go on then.”
My hands only shook a little when I placed them on the steering wheel. Mom hadn’t been happy when I asked the neighbors to borrow their car. It had been five years since I last sat in the driver’s seat.
I straightened the mirror, for Otis. I turned on the ignition, let out a shaky breath, and rehearsed my speech. Twenty minutes later, I sat in Otis’s driveway, wondering if I’d truly lost my mind. Otis’s family home was in the fancy part of town, and I half-expected someone to call the cops for trespassing in ridiculous clothing.
The shaking in my fingers had eased; now they just drummed nervously on the steering wheel.Stop running away,low-budget Columbia seemed to say, staring back at me from my reflection.
So I put the car in park, stepped out, and hissed as the wind bit my hardly-covered buttocks. I cranked the radio as loud as possible.
