***
Kerrie shut the engine of her pickup off, feeling not only exhausted but a mix of happiness and something akin to sadness. Her home was once a place of joy, a safe haven. But now, it just felt like a new job. It wasn't necessarily Kenny. He wasn't a burden. But they had gotten into a stale routine that gave little stimulation. They used to go out, have dinner, or take in a movie. Sometimes, Kenny would accompany her to The Church on Fridays when it was a more laid-back day. She was terrified to take him out now. After the heart attack, he just felt fragile. A piece of irreplaceable glass that she held with sweaty hands.
The curtains on the back door shifted, and Kenny's pointy nose pressed against the glass to get a better view of her. She was happy that he was up and moving around.
As she made her way to the back door and her waiting brother, the door to the basement opened. Seth's head popped out. He was young, around 23 years old, tall with thick black hair, and always had a grimace in place, even when he smiled. It was an odd look, but Kerrie was used to it.
"Hey, Seth, how's it going?" She greeted him.
"Not bad, Kerrie, not bad. I was hoping I would catch you. I know it's a bit last minute, but I'm going to be moving out over the weekend."
Kerrie's heart plummeted. "What? Why?"
He shrugged, and the permanent grimace deepened. "I lost my job last week, and I don't really have savings. My mom's letting me move back home until I can find something and save a little. If I stay past Friday night, then I'll have to pay another month."
Sucking in a breath, Kerrie rubbed the back of her head, nodding. "I get that. I hate to lose you, though. Kenny, too."
"Shit, yeah, I'm going to miss him, too. Mind if I come by and visit him?" he asked with hope in his voice.
"Yeah, of course. You know you're always welcome."
An awkward silence descended on them. Seth scuffed his shoe into the gravel beneath them with his hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans. Kerrie's small amount of joy she'd pulled into the driveway with was extinguishing quickly.
Sighing, Kerrie motioned to the door where Kenny was still hovering. "Well, I need to get in there before Kenny wears a spot in the glass. If you need any help moving, just let me know."
"Yeah, sure. I may see if I can borrow your truck if I can't get my buddy's."
"Sounds good. Just let me know."
Chapter 9
The next morning, Bette woke to the roar of a vacuum cleaner, which was directly beside her bed.
Grimacing, she turned over to find her mother standing next to her, rolling the blue, roaring piece of cleaning machinery over her tanned wooden floors. Heat engulfed her neck and face as her sleepy state quickly dissipated. "What the hell are you doing?"
"What?" her mother yelled over the roar of the vacuum, still pushing the damn thing around the floor.
Bette threw the covers back, cool air meeting her bare legs as she swung them over the edge of the bed. She loudly answered her mother, "I said, what the hell are you doing?"
The vacuum stopped as her mother pushed the off button with her foot and straightened up. Her face was pinched and stern, with eyes blazing. "Don't you dare speak to me like that! I am your mother."
"No, Mother, I will not give you respect when you don't show it to me. I'm not someone you can push around anymore. Now get out of my room," demanded Bette as she pointed to the door.
Clara fixed her steely gaze on Bette as she spoke low. If her face weren't full of Botox, she would have had deep lines around her pursed lips. "You need to remember whose house you are in. It's not your room. It's my room. I will do what I want in my own house. I will also not have my child acting like my equal."
Bette's mouth hung open as her mother, vacuum and all, stormed out of the room.
Bette's day didn't get any better as it progressed. After the morning meeting, she was sent to another section of the rehab not connected to the main property. It was a short,walk away, but Bette drove there. Tindle Street had three houses and three counselors. They shared a small office building. It felt more like an oversized shed to Bette. Though similar to the ones in The Church, the walls were hastily constructed and left little privacy behind them when talking with clients. Clinton, one of the counselors, had explained that it was once a barbershop, nail salon, and insurance company.
Clinton was an abrasive but kind man that Bette took a minute to like and then quickly warmed up to. He knew everything about the ins and outs of Turtle Grove. Gossip and all. He was also a little flamboyant and referred to a ‘partner’ once that made Bette think he was apart of her own community.
"You know, Terrance used to live with a woman in auditing when he first started working here. Then, you'll never guess this. He started talking to one of the new nurses but never told the girl in auditing. So he was dating both at the same time, but since they work in different places, it took months for them to catch on."
"But did the girl he lived with not realize?" Bette asked as she watched the clients through the window to the large porch of the house they stayed in. It was between classes, and they were taking a smoke break.
Bette had enjoyed the morning group. It was her first time experiencing one. Anxiety squeezed her chest like a vice when she first sat down in the cramped living room of Bluebird. Clinton did group in Bluebird, while Thomas, another counselor located at Tindle St., did group in the large house called Swallow. Swallow was once a boarding house at the beginning of the 1900s. It seemed like everything a part of Turtle Grove was once something else, repurposed for a greater use.
The group session had been exhilarating. Bette learned that most counselors do something fun on Fridays. Something lighter to end the week with. Clinton explained that clients needed to learn how to enjoy things again. How to find fun in the simplest of things. Group was what Clinton called Music Friday. He explained that music fed the soul. It allowed people with few words to speak many. People who didn't speak the same language could communicate with music. It could soothe babies and calm animals. Music could touch places nothing else could.
