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Mom welcomes me home with a plate of cookies and cold milk. She sits me in the living room and tells me that she completely redid the basement for me. With a dramatic wave of her hand, she says, “You’re not going to believe your eyes!”
I sigh, face stuffed with snickerdoodles and milk. I swallow, and it all goes down like peanut brittle, sideways and rough.
“That’s great, mom,” I say, distant. “I’ll check it out later.”
Mom crosses her arms and looks at me with her nose twisted up as if smelling something rotten, and that something is my nonsense.
“Elsa, what’s wrong with you?” she asks, demanding. “Didn’t you have fun with Harvey?”
Once again, I sigh, weary. “I did, mom. I’m just tired.”
“Oh, then let’s go see your room!” mom interjects, animated, and pretty much forcing me to follow her.
We walk past the living room, dining room, and kitchen, and get to the stairs that lead down to the basement. Mom climbs down the stairs in a hurry, while I, still carrying my heavy luggage, struggle down and do not pay attention until reaching the bottom.
Well, she had organized my boxes, and my clothes are hanging from a big PVC pipe screwed to the wall.
My old bedroom set is all there, still battered from my high school days. Mom also transferred an old shelf from the garage to the basement, and there she placed all my books and trinkets.
There’s new wallpaper, a tacky floral gray and green over white that fortunately gets buried under the furniture, frames, and poster that she hung.
“What do you think?” she smiles widely, arms open and chest puffing out with pride.
“Okay,” I say, bobbing my head. To be completely frank, everything is god-awful, but she made an effort, and I can truly appreciate that.
“I love it, mom!”
We hug, and she kisses my temple and rubs my back.
“I’m glad you like it, dear. Your dad and I put all our love into it.”
She looks at me and smiles. “We’re going to install a shower in the bathroom here. You’re gonna see how nice it’ll turn out.”
I sit on the edge of the open couch bed. The comforter is something I grew out of eons ago, and it smells slightly of moth balls.
Mom is still talking about all the renovations she and dad made and still plan to do when I blurt out a question.
“How long do you expect me to be here, mom?” I ask my voice barely audible.
She is taken aback by my question, and looks at me wide-eyed, confused. “What do you mean, Elsa?”
“You’re fixing up everything as if you don’t expect me to move any time soon.” I get teary.
But the real reason I am about to collapse into tears is not because of this basement — it’s my heart knowing that I won’t see Harvey again and because of the emotional roller-coaster the past few days have been.
Mom sits by my side, holds me, and rocks me side to side just like she used to when I was a child.
Being home is nice, but I feel so lost without knowing what my next steps are.
With what’s left of the money, I can use it as a down payment for my own place. But how am I going to pay a mortgage without a job? And how am I going to explain the down payment money to mom and dad?
If I can’t spend this money, maybe I should just give it back…
“You can stay for as long as you need, Elsa!” She presses me tight against her chest. “No one will pressure you!”
“Okay mom, okay!” I gently giggle, pulling myself away from her. “I need some rest. Can you please give me some space?”
She looks at me with her nose turned up again, not used to having her kids establishing their boundaries.
