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It was still early. Maybe I could visit her apartment.
My gaze wandered up to the window and the world speeding past my window, not really looking for anything, yet for something to help me decide when I spotted it.
“Terrance, stop the car!”
Terrance gave a visible start, but immediately rolled us to the shoulder and cutting the engine. He turned his head over his shoulder to peer at me with concern.
“Everything alright, sir?”
I gave him a nod even as I threw open my door and rolled out onto the sidewalk. I vaguely heard Terrance follow suit as I sprinted through oncoming traffic to the opposite side of the street.
It sat in the window like some divine sign from heaven. Everything about it was … magic.
I was through the shop doors before I could stop to think, to reconsider. I didn’t care. It was perfect and I needed it.
CHAPTER 13
Kamari
Ilearned a long time ago to never simply just show up at my parent’s house. I also knew that, even if I texted my mom the night before or the morning of to let her know I was coming, I had to text her again once I left and again when I arrived, but before actually going up to the house. I knew I could never let myself inside, despite having a key, but needed to wait until I heard the door unlatch from the inside. I also knew to never ring the doorbell, knock, or make any noise while I waited. And I was never allowed to bring anyone with me, not even if they waited outside.
I couldn’t be sure if there had always been that many rules growing up, but there seemed to be a few new ones every year that Dad would text me and I would add to the list. I asked him once if she even went outside anymore and his response was silence then a mumbled,when she’s up to it.If he was concerned by the decline, he hid it well, not wanting anyone to think badly of the woman he’d been married to for almost forty years.
My mother’s severe anxiety was the reason I didn’t visit as often as I would have liked. I didn’t call or text her unless I necessarily had to and only if I was dropping by, and because shedidn’t like unexpected noises, I limited texting or calling my dad during the evenings. Over the years, it was just a habit. I knew I had parents who I loved, but I couldn’t pick my mother out of a lineup. The few times I was actually allowed into the house, she’d stayed twenty feet away, or never even came into the same room. She didn’t speak often so most of the time, I was just having a conversation with myself in an empty room. Dad said she liked it when I visited and she enjoyed hearing about my day and what I was up to, but she went months without wanting to see me.
I wasn’t angry. A lot of the tightness in my chest was hurt and sadness. I tried to be understanding and sympathetic, but as time went on, I felt more like I was bothering her with my attempts. I even tried setting a scheduled day once a week to visit. I wound up sitting outside the door for hours until Dad told me to stop because it was making her nervous. I offered to cut back to twice a month so as not to overwhelm her and had the same results. Eventually, the happy medium seemed to be only if I absolutely had to.
I studied the phone in my lap, debating just leaving the boxes on the front porch. Dad could get them when he arrived home from work. But I thought of porch pirates and just how expensive the outfits inside the boxes were and concluded that I had no choice.
“Hey Mom, I’m pulling up to the house. I’ll text you when I get to the door. Please open. I would like to see you.”
I hit send just as the cab driver came to a rolling stop outside my childhood home.
From the outside, the two-story house with the white paint and newly neatly set pathway surrounded by precisely trimmed grass was the ideal dream. All most people saw was how perfectly spaced every shrubbery was from each other or how evenly built the front porch stairs were. What I saw was notbeing allowed on the grass to play because I would create dents in the soil and break blades. I had to take my shoes off at the bottom of the steps in case I left scuffs in the paint. If a person could live in an eggshell, this was it.
I asked the cabbie to wait, knowing deep down I wouldn’t be there for very long, if I was allowed inside at all. I gathered up the boxes and made my way up the path. At the bottom of the porch, I peeled off my sneakers and continued up in my socks.
The boxes wiggled in my hold as I dug out my phone and texted my mother that I’d arrived.
Seconds passed.
Silence echoed from the vacuum sealed chamber on the other side of the door, despite there being a whole person somewhere inside, clutching her phone and summoning the courage to unlock the door for her daughter.
There was no response.
Not on my phone.
Not from inside the house.
I sighed, not sure what I’d been expecting but never really surprised by the results. Part of me begged my limbs to lift and knock, for my voice to shout that I was outside, to please see me for two seconds. But that would be a mess my dad would have to clean up. He’d have to come home early from work and calm her down. Because of him, I took a deep breath and knelt.
I set the boxes on the porch and unearthed a pen and paper from my purse. In quick loops, I wrote my father a note that I tucked into the side of the door, telling him I was leaving their outfits for the party in the garage and to text me if anything was wrong with them.
I already knew Mom wouldn’t be attending. The dress would get hung — I assumed — somewhere in the closet with all the other dresses I’d brought her over the years. Dad would see how my mother was holding up, if she was okay being left alone atnight. Mostly likely, he wouldn’t come either. A few hours during the day weren’t an issue, but Mom had a fear of the house in the dark.
I used my alarm code to disengage the garage panel and slipped the boxes down next to the door before shutting and alarming it up again. I glanced at the house one last time, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of my mom’s face in a window before I left, but there was nothing. Not even the flutter of lace to indicate life.
I pulled my phone out and texted her again.“Hey Mom, I’m leaving. I left a note on the door for Dad.”
