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I look at Rachel and she smiles. “I had to cut her hair off when she got into the scissors.” She shakes her head. “It suits her, though, don’t you think?”
I think I’m in a fucking dream. I nod at them both and move to the couch next to my mother. She beams and I find myself smiling back.
“I’ll leave the two of you to visit. Tea or coffee?”
My mother claps. “Tea! Yes, please!”
I shake my head and Rachel backs out of the room. I stare at my mother and she looks at me almost shyly.
“What’s happened?” I ask carefully.
She points to the Silverbook hanging from the far wall and turns it on. “I see you on the Silverbook all the time. You are my second favorite End Man...Folsom is my favorite. I miss seeing him...so sad that he’s just, poof!” Her hands mimic an explosion and she leans back in her chair and laughs hysterically. Then she leans in closer. “I hope he got far, far away.”
I get a chill and rub my jaw, trying to figure out what the fuck to do. “Do you know who I am?” I finally ask.
“Of course, silly! Jackal Emerson, that’s who you are. Rachel says you’re my boy. Is that true?” She straightens up and reaches out to touch my face with her wrinkled hand. “I think it’s true. I remember you. You’re Jackal Emerson. You are my second favorite End Man,” she repeats, trailing off.
I stand up and walk to the door. “I’ll be right back,” I tell her. She’s already watching the Silverbook and doesn’t say anything.
Rachel is cutting up sandwiches and arranging them on a tray. She jumps when I walk in.
“Oh, I didn’t hear you coming!” She puts her hand on her neck and fans herself.
“What’s wrong with her?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“I mean, what has happened to my mother? She’s acting...like she doesn’t know who I am.”
“Well, you know her memory lapses come and go. Surely you’ve experienced that before with her?” She stares at me and I swallow.
“No. Never.”
“Give her time. She’ll come back,” she says casually, like it’s every day that you find out your mother has no idea who you are.
“I didn’t even know she retired,” I say.
Rachel places two bottles of lemonade on a tray with my mom’s tea and I want to ask her for something strong to spike it with.
“About a year ago,” she says.
“Why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
She looks up at me in surprise. “I’ve only been working for Miss Emerson for about nine months. You’d have to ask someone else.” She shrugs.
I go back to the room carrying the bottles of lemonade, watching her for a minute before I step inside. She pulls a clump of her hair as she watches the screen, her face changing rapidly. I hear my name spoken and turn to look at the Silverbook. Footage of the Birthing Celebration plays, showing a clip of me waving from my elaborate float.
“That’s you!” She waves both hands and looks at me. “You’re much better-looking in person.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
She blinks and her expression changes, slowly shifting from peaceful to anxious. “Jackal? What are you doing here?” Her voice sounds sharper, lower.
“You’re freaking me the fuck out, Mother.”
She moves to stand and I gently push her back down.
“Just like you to show up unannounced.”
