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“Not really, or no?”
“No. Jason didn’t contribute.”
She shook her head, looking at the floor. She paused. It was a lot to consider. Though it was only right to defend myself, this put me on the offense. This put Jason’s future livelihood at risk. It would mean the Frys would worry even more about their son and possibly drive Jason off the deep end. I’d heard he was in recovery, but a big part of me thought there was no way that was true because if he was sober, I didn’t think he’d have gone through with this.
“And when you say ‘we’,” Mom continued, “you mean Graphic Temple?”
She fished. I’d told her Maeve was coming but not that we were back together.
“RI is ‘we.’” I’d said RI, but it really felt more like me and Maeve. “Graphic Temple è finito.”
She cocked her head to the side. “You really don’t tell me anything these days. What happened with the band? I thought you guys were doing so well together?”
“It’s complicated. Maybe I’ll still play with Tae.”
I could see in her eyes she processed. Her gaze was on me, but her mind was elsewhere. “I suppose this would be the nail in the coffin for Jason. He did bring it upon himself.”
Mom had always told me to stay away from drugs. She told me that if I ever became and addict, a smoker, or a priest, she’d disown me. She’d said it in a way that I thought she perhaps joked, but also to let me know where the line was. I was pretty sure she’d love me no matter what. Every mom played the tough woman act from time to time, but they’d always be there for you.
Except if I became a priest. That much was true as I learned she was scared of the aesthetic the way some people couldn’t bear clowns. And she really wanted grandchildren.
But as loving as my mom was, she consistently made it known she didn’t want me to ever take drugs. She didn’t include alcohol in this, though I knew, and now more than ever seeing Dixie, that it was just as capable of a person’s demise as crack cocaine.
My mom contemplated the wall again but watched me closely in her peripheral vision as she said, “I don’t suppose you’d go tell Mr. Fry what’s about to go down?”
“Is that a request or an order?”
She smiled and scraped the wall, then peeked over, peering over her glasses. “I’m suggesting it more for you than out of any respect for Jason or because the Frys can’t handle it. I just think you might feel better if you go over there.”
“It’s too much.” Suddenly, I needed a chair. I slide one from nearby underneath me. “This is all wiping me out.”
“The kitchen or the case?”
“Everything, I guess. Not that I can’t handle this psychologically, but my nerves are frayed. Or something. I’ve just been exhausted lately.”
Mom went to the counter, grabbed the can she’d set out for me, and opened it with a pop and a sizzle. She handed one to me, then pulled up a chair in front of me. “I didn’t want to say, but you look awful.”
“Yeah, don’t you think I know it?”
I took a swig of sugary bubbles. I didn’t want to worry my mom and tell her that I felt crappier than I looked. I knew she’d be nervous. But equally, growing up with shit health insurance and little money, she’d gotten good at not seeing the doctor about just any old thing. Maybe she’d be a sounding board.
“I don’t know what’s going on, maybe just anxiety, but it feels more like just flat-out tiredness all the time.”
“Do you not feel like getting out of bed, like, emotionally? Or just physically?”
“No, it’s not like depression or anything. I don’t think it’s anything like that. I want to do shit. Like, take advantage of this time ‘off’ if that’s what you call it. I have plenty of get up and go up here,” I pointed to my head, “but my body doesn’t want to cooperate.”
“That’s not like you, honey.” She put her hand on my knee. “But sometimes things are running way in the back of our minds.”
“Yeah. Maybe. To be honest, it did only start after I heard about the lawsuit.”
“I need to keep an eye on you.” She patted my knee.
“About that… I might have someone to do that for you when you’re not around.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Oh? Does this have something to do with Maeve coming here?”
“It’s game on.”
