“Oh, what a surprise.” She clapped her hands. “I got a two for one today.”
Irish didn’t speak as she entered the home. Right away, the stench of garbage hit her nose, making her face showcase disdain.
“Hey, Mama. How are you?” Ivory greeted her with a hug.
While Irish chose to display distance between her and Daisy, Ivory was always polite. She often hugged her, said I love you, and promised to keep in touch with her.
“You look great,” Daisy gushed, holding Ivory’s hand. “Doesn’t she look just like her father, Irish?”
Instead of answering her, Irish folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall.
“When did you come back?” Daisy asked.
“Oh, I’ve been here for about a week now.” Ivory shrugged then looked around. “Mama, you should really get this place cleaned up.”
Daisy flicked her hand at her. “Oh, it’s fine.”
“It’s not though. It smells awful in here.” Ivory gagged. “My goodness, how can you sit here and not get sick?”
“Well, excuse me for grieving the loss of my husband!” Daisy lamented.
Irish rolled her eyes, instantly regretting coming here.
“Mama, it’s been years since Daddy passed away. You need to get your life back.”
“He was my life!” Daisy bellowed. “You two haven’t done anything to help me grieve. Just left me behind while you went about your lives. What about me, huh? What about my mental health? Did you ever stop to consider how I needed help?”
Irish refused to tag herself into this conversation. Her stance had been made clear years ago. Baiting her intoan argument to show some kind of emotion wouldn’t work anymore. She had done that for so many years without any kind of pay off. Irish went inside her purse and pulled out an envelope.
“Here’s money for bills, Ma.”
Daisy snatched it from her hand. “That’s all you think about, Irish. Money, money, money. You do know money won’t solve every problem.”
“Mama, calm down,” Ivory scolded. “You don't need to be so rude to Irish.”
“She’s rude to me.” She pointed her finger toward herself. “You know she doesn’t even call me. I can’t call her because she has me blocked.” She cut her eyes at Irish. “Don't think I don't know because every time I dial your number, it goes to the voicemail. I’m your mother and you treat me like scum. Then, you throw money at me like it’s supposed to fix me.”
An impassive expression rested on Irish’s face. This speech had been recited so many times that she could say it word for word. Again, Irish refused to be baited into an argument. Daisy was dying for some attention from her and she knew it. It was the reason she decided to starve her out.
“Other than all of that, how have you been?” Irish asked.
“I’ve been the same. You think grief just goes away on its own? I’ll never be okay again.”
Ivory inhaled a deep breath. “Well, I’m here for the summer. Just call me if you need me.”
“There you go, following in her footsteps.” She pointed at Irish. “How come I wasn’t the first person you came to see when you got here? Why do you always go to Irish?”
“Because Irish is my sister. She took care of me when you failed to do so. She’s the person that makes sure I have all that I need. I get guidance from her. She gives me love and I would be remiss not to go see her first, Mama.”
Ivory’s words had Irish on the verge of tearing up. She often expressed her love for her, but Irish had no idea how deep her adoration ran. She took care of her because that was the right thing to do. She didn’t expect any award for doing so but when Ivory professed what kind of impact Irish made in her life, she felt that all the sacrifices she’d made for her wasn’t in vain.
“Yeah, well, I wish I could say the same about her. She only comes to drop off money. She doesn’t help me through my grieving process or anything.” Daisy shook her head.
“Well, this was a nice visit,” Irish stated with sarcasm. “I’ll see you next month, Mama.” Irish headed for the front door.
“Bye, Mama.” Ivory waved at her.
“No, wait!” Daisy yelled out. “How about we go through some pictures together? Don't leave yet.”
