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I stop moving, afraid to make a noise. I want to hear what Mom is talking about. She must be on the phone with Dad since I can only hear half of the conversation. “They said that?” She continues to question him. “Which one of the kids is it then?” Mom makes some humming noise in the back of her throat. “We’ve never noticed anything, but things are that bad, huh?” She’s never questioned Dad as much as she is now and I’m very curious as to who they’re talking about. “Charity? Are you kidding me? We aren’t a non-profit foundation.” A loud exhale followed by a muffled groan breaks up the conversation. “I’m greedy. That’s nice of you to say. We have needs too, Gary. Shall I remind you of those or should we pretend that it doesn’t exist like we always do?” Needs? What needs do any of us have? They’ve always been very clear about the difference between needing and wanting something and we are fortunate enough never to need more than we can comfortably afford. “Well, fine. Do what you must. And yes,” she grumbles, “I will have dinner waiting for you on the table at six p.m. sharp, as requested, dear.” Mom throws something across the room, and I can only assume it must be her cell phone.
I step into the room without knocking. There usually isn’t a need to knock since their door is always open, but my appearance causes her to gasp and clutch her chest. “What are you doing home so early?” Her eyes look like they might fall out of her head.
“It was an early release day. There’s a teacher meeting. It’s on the calendar.” She never forgets anything that she’s added to the calendar. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes,” she scoffs. “Of course, I’m fine. Everything is fine. I dropped my phone while I was dusting the dresser.”
I consider telling her I’ve been home longer than the time it took for her to “drop” her phone but seeing as I don’t think she’s being honest; it might be best if I don’t tell her I overheard her conversation with Dad.
“You look like something is bothering you, sweetie. How was your algebra test?”
“Good. No, I’m not upset.” I guess I can lie too since I’m pretty sure I failed my math test.
She makes her way around the bedroom and gives me a tight squeeze with a loving groan. “I love you. I always miss you so much when you’re at school.”
“I love you, too.”
I leave her bedroom with my backpack still slung over my shoulder and close myself into my bedroom. One of the families in the six-unit townhouse isn’t paying their rent and Dad is allowing them to get away with it because something is wrong with one of the kids. Those are the only broad facts I pulled from the conversation. There are only two other townhomes occupied with kids, the people next door and the quiet family with a toddler and a newborn who live behind us. A fighting family is a sign of distress. My bets are on the Hoyts. But I wonder what’s wrong with which of the kids, something that would prevent Mr. and Mrs. Hoyt from paying their rent?
I return to the hallway, finding Mom and Dad’s bedroom empty and the bathroom door open. She’s either in the kitchen or in the family room upstairs. A stack of pots and pans clanging answers my question and I make my way into the kitchen. “Mom?”
She lifts her eyebrows and presses a smile into her dimpled cheeks as she turns to face me with a pot clutched between her hands. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“Is something wrong with one of the Hoyt kids?”
Mom pulls the pot into her chest, clutching it firmly. “What do you mean?” she responds quickly.
“Is one of the Hoyt kids sick?” I ask again, rearranging the words.
“Why would you ask something like that?”
“Because I overheard you and Dad talking when I got home.” There’s half of my honesty for the day. I can wait on the truth of how I think my algebra test went.
“You were eavesdropping?”
I shake my head, furrowing my eyebrows. “No, I happened to hear what you were saying when I walked into the house.”
She sighs and releases the pot to one hand and holds it by her side. “Haley, you have nothing to worry about. Everyone is fine and whatever you think you heard most likely isn’t true.”
“Is it Larissa?”
“Haley, I think we should do a better job at minding our business.”
“If someone isn’t doing well, I would like to offer to help. Isn’t that the right thing to do?”
Mom shakes her head furiously as if I’m way far off with my assumption. “No. You don’t know what you’re talking about, honey. The situation you heard half of is not what you think and has nothing to do with who you think it does. Please, I’m going to ask you to drop it and not bring it back up again, okay?”
I stare at Mom, waiting for her to blink, but it’s like she’s frozen within her thoughts. “Do you want me to make dinner?” I offer. “I don’t mind.”
“No, no. I want you to focus on whatever homework you have.”
A door outside slams and the storm door follows, making a racket. We both look toward our front door as if we can see clearly through the white sheer curtain covering the window. I walk past Mom and stand beside the window to peek out.
“Why are you so awful?” Larissa screams, her long hair flying in the wind behind her as she pounds her fists on the storm door. “Do you know what kind of damage you are causing us? Every single day, you and your issues are all that matter. What about the rest of us? Don’t the rest of us matter? Huh? God!” She pounds her fists again and whips her head toward our door, seemingly catching my wandering eye. She squints and sneers before charging down the steps and out onto the wide driveway.
“That’s who Dad is helping?” I ask. “They’ve only been living here five months. Does that mean they’ve never paid their rent?”
“Who?” Mom replies.
