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She waved me off. “That hiding spot for your key is ridiculous. Anyone could find it.”
I rolled my eyes and made a mental note to find a better hiding place. I thought I’d been pretty clever by using one of the carvings in the door frame. Guess not.
She bustled into the kitchen, dripping water on the floor. She was short where I was fairly tall, light to my dark in all ways from hair to skin. Biology had not given us much in common. Personality wise we were legions apart as well. In fact, when I had managed to go to school, the teachers hadn’t believed she was my mother.
Me either, to be truthful.
“Do you have a washer?”
“A small stackable unit in my closet.”
“Perfect.” She toed over her bag to me. “Be a love.”
I pressed my lips together against a pithy reply about her taking it down to the laundromat. It was just easier to do a load for her.
Shoving the clothes back into the bag, I hefted it and headed over to my bedroom area. “How long are you in town?”
“Actually, I was heading to the Adirondacks and wondered i
f you might want to come with me. It’s been a long time since we’ve hung out.”
“Need money again?” I called.
“No—well, okay, maybe a little.”
Of course she did. The only time she came to see me was when her bank account was low. Not that she ever had much to add to it. I had just made her get one, so I didn’t have to worry about her being stranded somewhere.
And I added to the balance monthly because I was an idiot.
She followed me and tugged a black dress out of my closet. “Oh, Ryan. Don’t you have anything with color?”
“My style is all black. You know this.”
She dropped her towel. “I don’t look good in black.”
I focused on stuffing her clothes in my washer and not on the fact that my mother just flashed all of her wares at me. “Well, it is my closet.”
She sighed and fussed with the sleeves then tugged at the front of the dress that hung low on her. “How is it that I got less boobs than you? I made you.”
“Boobs are a pain in the ass.”
“You only say that because you have them.”
Nudging her aside, I reached for the top shelf of my closet where I kept some of the things she’d left behind the last time she blew in. I handed her the hot pink tank dress and one of her flowy button down shirts. “Here.”
She flipped my dress off and left it on the floor. “That’s where this went.” She shimmied into the dress and tied the shirt around her hips. “Much better.”
I sighed and bent to pick up my tone-on-tone sunflower dress. “I just put five-hundred dollars in your account last month.”
“I know, sweetie. I appreciate that. I bought some primo undyed wool. Wait until you see the hanks I made up with madder root. They’re this rich raspberry color.” She made a chef’s kiss noise. “I figured out some new colors with a cotton I got from some mill ends for real cheap.” She rushed over to her hemp bag. “I used some of it to knit a summer coverup.”
She came back and held it up in front of me. “Look at that juicy red color. It would look amazing with your hair.” She curled the netting around my hair and tilted her head. “Oh, I could make hair wraps.”
Off and running with something feeding that crazy brain of hers, she muttered to herself about stitches. Naturally, she left the summer weight wool around my neck. It was still too hot, especially since I’d been loading the washer with her frigging clothes. I set the machine to wash.
“Did you use a natural soap?”
“Yes.” Lies. Kind of. I’d used my usual detergents from a subscription service I’d been buying from for ages.
