The end was nearing.
CHAPTER FORTY: Mike
Jen honked twice, the last peace-breaker was long and obnoxious, revealing she was pissed that I was keeping her waiting. Prom voting was that day and she’d called me late last night telling me what to wear and how to act at school. She had decided that she was going to be the first to win both the homecoming queen title as well as wear the prom queen’s crown. And with that revelation, she decided I’d be the first double-crown-winning boy by her side.
“I’m not going to school today, Mom,” I said after she knocked on my door after honk number one.
“You’re telling or asking?” she asked through the closed door.
Forgetting she was the boss and I was the child, I changed my tune. “Not feeling well.”
“I’ll be right back,” she said. I heard Jen’s car pull away, followed by Mom’s steps on the stairs. Mom had specific protocols when either Dad or I weren’t well. Her cure could be lengthy and full of special potions after she determined the illness. I’d better keep my faux diagnosis simple for my own good.
“It’s unlocked,” I said, after Mom knocked. I liked the fact that both of my parents had made my bedroom my personal space as soon as I proved I could act responsibly. Neither of them ever barged in without knocking.
I was still in bed, having barely slept the night before. I tossed and turned, wrote letters to Cooper, tore letters up, rewrote them, paced, laid down, almost called him, and almost went over to his place. I did pretty much everything but speak to him.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” Mom asked, grabbing my wrist to check my pulse while simultaneously holding her palm to my forehead. “Throat? Tummy?”
“I’m fine, Mom. Well, physically.”
Her eyes narrowed and she came closer to my face, carefully studying me. “You stuffed all that anger down yesterday didn’t you?” she asked. “I can see it behind your eyes.”
“No, you can’t,” I said. “And I didn’t do any stuffing either,” I quipped.
Mom swiped at my nose then pulled my top sheet down to my waist before running her hands across my warm chest. “Blotchy,” she announced. “I knew it.”
“Mom,” I whined, looking at my bare chest and not seeing what she saw.
“You cannot go to bed when you’re angry or stressed, Michael. I’ve told you that a million times.” She had. I remembered. “Your body responds to outside negativity and then it manifests into an overall malaise,” she began, tugging on my earlobes for some strange reason. “Stress is a slow killer. Sneaks up on you.”
“I’m seventeen, Mom,” I argued.
“Open up.” She forced my mouth open and peeked inside. “Is your tongue dry?”
I swatted her hand from my chin. “It will be if you keep prying my mouth open,” I said. “I’m tired, is all, and I didn’t sleep well last night. Besides, there’s nothing happening at school with less than a week to go. I won’t miss anything important.”
“After all that negativity, of course, you didn’t sleep well,” she accused. “You are too young for all these worries, son.” If she only knew. Even at twenty-seven I’d felt the battle deep inside my bones. I wondered if my body knew I was in my late twenties now. My brain sure as hell did.
“I just need to lay around today,” I said. “Plus, I have work tomorrow.”
“Of course, honey, but you’re drinking one of my elixirs.”
I’d forgotten Mom used that word for the major battles. When the illness or the negative event required average ammunition, she used her potions, butelixirsmeant busting out the big guns.
“No marigolds,” I stated.
She looked at me oddly, her lips drawn into a frown. “Now why would I use marigold?” she asked. “We aren’t summoning the dead, for gosh sakes.”
I was tempted to ask additional questions aboutsummoningthe dead, but my three days back in my childhood home circa 2013 had taught me a valuable lesson. Less talk. More listen.
“Lay still and be peaceful. I’ll be right back,” she ordered.
Once Mom was downstairs I went to the window, opened the shutters, and looked across the street. Coop and his mother were heading to Charla’s car. Cooper didn’t look toward my bedroom window when he slid inside the car. I watched as they backed out and drove toward school, wondering what he was thinking when I hadn’t gone with Jennifer. Maybe he hadn’t noticed, but I knew her honking would’ve alerted him.
I heard Mom coming up the stairs so I dove back into bed.
“Here you go,” she said, handing me a plate with what looked like a piece of black licorice, a wedge of lemon, and a mug of warm cloudy liquid. I brought the mug to my nose and sniffed before making a face. It smelled horrible.
