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“If you’re happy with the situation, I guess there’s nothing to talk about. But I wouldn’t like it and I would say so,” she said smugly. Ironically, I had recently overheard my dad questioning her about her dwindling paychecks, to which she’d responded that she’d gotten some dental work done in place of several days’ pay. I had believed her side of the story, but now I wondered if she might be missing work because she was having another affair.
“I’m fine with it,” I said. Then
I changed the subject. “How have you been feeling lately? Have you had any headaches?”
“Nope. I’ve been much better.”
“That’s nice.”
“Well, you know, I am trying to be healthier. I think eating better and exercising more helps with my overall health.”
“So, no migraines. That’s really great, Mom.”
“It sure is. Not to mention, I lost ten pounds.”
“Oh. Good for you.”
“Did you notice?”
“Yes, I thought you looked pretty good,” I lied.
“It takes work, losing weight,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been doing leglifts every morning and jumping jacks at night. I just have to stick with it.” I was surprised she was talking to me about this. I was unsure whether I liked that we were having a conversation, or if it was too late to even try.
“Well, I’m going to put this on my bed,” I said, nodding at the blanket in my arms.
“She shouldn’t make you walk home carrying that in this heat. You’ll get sick.”
“It doesn’t bother me.”
“You probably look a little silly walking down the street with a blanket wrapped around you in the middle of summer.”
“I didn’t wrap it around me.”
“Well, good.”
“Anyway, it’s not that hot. See,” I said, wiggling my fingers through it, “there are holes everywhere.”
“Ughhh,” she sighed and shook her head, as if the banality of the conversation had just deflated her. Then she turned back to her magazine and perked back up. “Do you know you can use your coffee table as an aerobics step?”
“Really?” I said, not interested but coming over to take a look out of politeness. She closed the magazine and called out to my father who was watching television in the living room, “Roger, do you want corn or peas with your meatloaf?”
I realized I had been flattering myself to worry about her intervening. Once I left her property, it was out of sight, out of mind, unless something rare and unfortunate like that newspaper photo happened.
By the end of the summer, I had almost $4000 hoarded away in a duffle bag in my closet.
The time came for high school to start and I had to break it to Betty that I wouldn’t be coming to see her anymore. She didn’t take it very well. I gave her only two days’ notice because I hadn’t had the nerve to tell her sooner. The first day she tried to bribe me to stay, offering to double my salary and make me whatever kind of sweater I wanted; I could pick out the yarn! The last day she became a different person entirely. She parked her wheelchair in front of the dining room window, refusing to talk to me. When it was time to leave, I tried to give her a hug. She turned away, handing me my money without even saying goodbye.
“I can stop by after school sometimes if you want, but I usually have homework to do,” I told her, as I was halfway out the door.
She just kept looking out the window. So I left.
Her cupboards were filled with Pringles and Doritos, gummy bears, Skittles. She had half-finished blankets she was making for me. I would never know if Jennifer ended up with Frankie or Jack.
I walked slowly home, feeling with every step that I needed to go back and fix things. But I didn’t. I just kept walking. I ended up at the park, sitting on a swing. The next day high school would begin. I did not belong there.
So don’t go.
It seemed reasonable enough.
