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“I didn’t do anything, Momma. Why do you care?” I asked. “You and yourmean girl committeewere plain awful to him and you know it. Maybe that was why he went home to Beaufort.” I knew that wasn’t the reason but I couldn’t admit what a fuck-up I was to momma.
She waved a dismissive hand at me. “Never mind that, Hayes. That’s just a group of unhappy bitchy southern women whose husbands run around cheating and ignoring them.”
I gave her a questioning look but quickly looked away. I was convinced my knowledge ofhercheating husband, my father, was evident on my face.
She studied my face when I turned to look at her, not raising my face from the coolness of the island. “Oh please, son. Do you actually think I don’t know about your daddy and his stupidity?”
“You know?” I asked.
“Of course I know. Your man-child father couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it.”
“And you’re not bothered or worried?”
“Bothered? Yes. Worried?Hell no!Where is he going to go? His daddy left him nothing and you’ve cut him off,” she reminded me. “He can’t leave me even if he wanted to because I still have rich parents and he knows they won’t live forever.”
“Jesus, Momma! I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be. You have recently put me in a powerful position that I am quite enjoying, son. Your daddy won’t be stepping out any longer,” she declared. “So now I’m here to get you straightened out, Hayes.” She gazed around the kitchen, placed her Louis Vuitton handbag on the only empty space on the island, tapped her lip with her index finger and said, “We will start in here and work our way upstairs. You’re going to take a shower first because I can smell you from over here.”
“I’m doing fine, Momma. Thanks for stopping by.”
She pointed to the kitchen door. “You will shower. Then you’ll help me clean this mess and the two of us are going to talk after. Understood?”
No one can take you back to your childhood faster than a mother on a mission. “Yes, Momma,” I whined.
By the time I’d showered and dressed, Momma had whipped the kitchen into shape. I heard the dishwasher humming and realized I hadn’t known I had one. “Where’d you find dishwasher soap?” I asked.
“Under your sink, silly,” she responded, turning toward me and giving me a post-shower assessment. “Better,” she stated. “Now sit. I ordered takeout that will be here in thirty minutes.”
“I’m not hungry, Momma.”
Her head tilted as she gave me the side-eye from across the room. “You’ll eat. Period.”
“Whaddya want, Momma? Just spill it and get it over with,” I complained, exhaling annoyingly. “You’ve been here what, five, six times in your life?”
“Four,” she corrected. “My son never invites me over. And two of those visits were when you were found safe and returned home. Of course, even then I invited myself. Kind of like today,” she bitched, tapping her nails on the marble counter.
I had zero patience and momma was not what I needed to add to my laundry list of worries. She stared at me like she had a question but wouldn’t ask it. “What?” I asked. “I’m busy, Momma.”
She held her index fingers up and drew a giant circle in the air toward me. “I don’t like this, Hayes. You look like you’ve been locked in a windowless basement for a month with no food. Trust me, this thing you’ve got going on here is not working for you, son.”
“I’m buried in work, Momma. What am I supposed to do?”
“Where did you say Boregard went?” she asked, changing the subject and glancing around the room like he might be hiding in a corner.
“I didn’t, just that he left.”
“I think I’m going to call him,” she announced. “Tell him what’s going on here with you.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have Bo’s number, Momma, and why would you? Do you need a gardener?” I insulted, quickly realizing I was offending Bo with my question.
“Well, well, well, listen to you being rude to your momma. And actually, son, I do have Boregard’s number. He gave it to me after I complained that you never call me. He said I could call him anytime and he’d catch me up on you. That young man has a good soul,” she stated. “He respected his memaw. That woman raised him right since his shameful mother up and left him.”
“Memaw?” I guffawed. “Did you say memaw? Who are you and where is my momma?”
“Oh, hush, youngin’. Your mother actually does have a heart and I liked Boregard. Quite a lot actually. Enough to have invited him for lunch yesterday.”
“You what?” I asked incredulously. “No way, Momma. You didn’t?”
