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“No. He has a Saturday shift, and then he’s going to the casino.”
“Okay. Are you hurt?”
“Not enough to need a hospital.”
I close my eyes, praying she’s right. “I just have to shower and change. Then I’ll be over, okay?”
“Yeah.” She sniffles. “Thanks.”
“Of course. Sit tight. See you soon.”
I disconnect the call, jumping from my bed. Mary doesn’t trust me enough to work weekends yet, so thankfully, I don’t have to tell anyone I won’t be around. If I did, one of the Sons would insist on coming with me. I found that out last week when I needed to pick up a few things from the store. Not thinking it was a big deal, I told Mary I’d be gone for a few hours, and before I knew it, Lucky was taking me.
I won’t make that mistake today, so as soon as I’m clean and dressed in my comfy clothes of a T-shirt and baggy jeans, I call for an Uber, instructing them to come around the side of the building.
After feeding my frogs, making my bed, and grabbing my purse, I slip outside to wait for my ride. Thankfully, Colin’s bike isn’t here, so I know he won’t come looking for me. The girls usually respect my privacy and never question it if I don’t answer my door. With any luck, I can get home, deal with Mom, and be back before anyone even notices.
I only have to wait two minutes before a white Civic pulls up, and I slide into the backseat.
“This the right address?” the young driver asks, pointing to the screen.
“Yep.”
I’m grateful when he doesn’t make small talk during the twenty-minute drive because I need all the time I can get to prepare myself for what I’ll most likely be walking into. Mom has made it a point to tell me she’s fine and doesn’t need me for more than a week now, so if she’s asking me to come home, it must be bad.
I hope she’s right about it not being too bad because each time Ray has beaten one of us to the point of needing the ER, it’s been an ordeal. The nurses and doctors ask a million questions, and even though we’re the victims, they still treat us like criminals. The stares and pathetic looks were embarrassing and degrading. After everything with Colin last night, I could use a few hours without judgment or having to explain myself.
“Thank you,” I say, getting out of the car in front of Ray’s house and saying a prayer of gratitude when Ray’s car is absent from the driveway.
Rushing up the walkway, I don’t knock, instead storming into the house. After being absent for a while, the odor of stale cigarettes I’d grown accustomed to hits me in the face, turning my stomach. How was this smell ever normal to me?
Mom obviously hasn’t been able to keep up with housework because the kitchen sink is full of dirty dishes, the counters are littered with mail, and beer cans overflow from the garbage. It’ll take me all day to get things back to how it was when I left.
That can wait until I find Mom, though. The living room is nearly as bad as the kitchen; Ray’s ashtray is overflowing with cigarette butts, beer bottles cover every surface, and he must’ve taken his anger out on Mom’s knickknacks because the little porcelain figurines she collects are on the carpet, shattered into pieces, small nicks in the walls where they must’ve hit.
My heart hurts for her. That woman doesn’t ask for anything. She buys her clothes at the thrift stores and shops at the local Dollar Outlet for groceries. The phone she uses is older than mine. The only thing she does for herself is look for these cheap little dollar-store figurines. Now she doesn’t even have that.
“Mom?” I call out.
“In the bedroom.” Her voice cracks.
Walking down the hallway, I pause in front of my room, pushing the cracked door open to find it destroyed. My bed is overturned, the pictures I’d left hanging on the wall are torn and thrown on the ground, and my dresser is toppled over, the old and cheap wood broken in pieces.
I shake my head, not surprised. Closing the door, I venture further down the hall to the room Mom shares with Ray. The curtains are drawn, making it hard to see the human-shaped lump on the bed, but I know that’s where I’ll find her.
“Mom?”
“In here.”
I flip on the light, eliciting a groan from her, but I need to see what state she’s in, so I ignore it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I peel back the covers. She’s on her side, matted hair covering her face. I push it back while she rolls onto her back, and I gasp, unprepared for what I see.
“Mom!” I jerk my hand away because I barely recognize the woman. Her face is black and blue, swollen, and bloody. “Jesus Christ.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks. I just didn’t have the energy to clean up just yet.”
“Come on. I’ll help you.”
She moans in pain as I get her out of bed and to the bathroom, ignoring the disgusting state it’s in. How did this happen in a little over a week?
