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“What?” Alanna asked.
“Did it end up being the best or the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?” Her mom’s smile was full of love, and Alanna knew that smile wouldn’t waver no matter how she answered.
She moved to the couch and sat down next to her mother, the Gucci purse tucked under her arm.
“I’m not sure,” she answered honestly. “I think it might’ve been the best, though.”
Dede patted Alanna’s leg. “You have such a good heart. I wish you weren’t so afraid to show it.”
Afraid. Yes. Alanna had always considered herself brave. She’d lived in homeless shelters. She’d started working at 14 to pay the bills. She’d gone to Los Angeles—a city that gleefully chewed through souls like Pringles—to seek her fortune.
But, turns out, she’d always been afraid. Every day of her life.
Until today.
“Mom, what if I stayed?” Alanna asked.
Her mother blinked. “Stayed?”
“Here,” Alanna clarified. “In this house. With you. I know you don’t really need me, but—”
“Yes,” her mom said. “Oh, Alanna, that would be wonderful. I’ve always wanted you to come home.”
“Really?” Alanna turned on the couch to look at her mother. “You never said anything.”
Dede gazed down at her knitting. “You always seemed unhappy when you came to visit, like Yucca Hills was the last place you wanted to be.”
“Not anymore.” Alanna opened her arms and wrapped them around her mother’s small frame. She was surprised by how easy it felt to let go of all her plans. Just like the clothes and shoes and purses. None of that mattered.
What mattered was right here in her arms.
“I love you,” she said, burying her face in her mother’s soft hair.
Ch. 48 Sully
Sullyandhisfatherdidn’t speak much as they emptied the kitchen of all his mother’s treasured dishes, bowls, glasses, and the other accouterments she’d collected over the decades; nor when they unhooked and dragged the appliances into the garage with the help of dollies and a few choice curse words from his dad.
After a short instruction session from Sully, the men began to tear out the worn cabinets that had defined the kitchen since Sully’s childhood. He wasn’t feeling so nostalgic about the loss, though. Instead, he let his body take over. There was something simple and honest about wedging a crowbar between the cabinet and the wall and using all his strength to pry it free.
Plus, it just felt good to tear shit apart.
He hadn’t slept much over the past week. Apparently, a guilty conscience and decent shuteye weren’t a compatible combo. Swinging the laser pointer around the room and watching Sheba wiggle her fluffy butt before pouncing hadn’t helped either. Every time he looked at the cat, he felt a combination of protectiveness and shame. Talk about a pyrrhic victory. He’d won the Battle of Sheba, but at a devastating cost.
With grunts and nods, Sully and his dad broke the cabinets into smaller pieces and loaded them into a dumpster Sully had ordered. His mother texted them both when she arrived at a fancy hotel in Poway with her sisters. Sully imagined his mother lazing by the pool while engaging in her favorite pastime, passively aggressively trying to one-up her sisters as they compared their children’s accomplishments.
Sully smiled as he swiped beads of sweat off his forehead. Tomorrow, his mother would luxuriate on a massage table at the hotel’s spa, while her menfolk installed the upper and lower cabinets of the kitchen. As long as everything went according to plan, they’d install the new, precut countertops and the large new single bowl sink on the third and final day, drag the appliances back in, and get the dumpster picked up just before she returned home.
It was an aggressive schedule, but one thing Sully had learned from his father was to embrace hard work. When the two men dropped the last splintered pieces of particle board into the dumpster, John gave it a salute.
“Those cabinets did good work,” he said. “Had ‘em for nearly 30 years.”
His father’s hint of sentimentality surprised Sully. The only part of the kitchen his dad had ever evinced interest in was the fridge where his beer resided.
The new cabinets were waiting in the garage, hidden under a tarp in his father’s workshop. Like many Californians, his parents parked their cars in the driveway and used their garage as a workspace and storage area. When his dad pulled back the tarp, Sully was pleased to see that the new cabinets gleamed a rich walnut color.
“These look amazing,” he told his father. “Great job on the staining.”
John hooked his thumbs into the loops of his battered jeans and rocked on his heels. “Wasn’t so hard once you explained it to me. I watched them YouTubes you sent.”
