"Morning Ma. Just peachy." My scratchy voice contradicts me. "Sorry about last night. I didn't mean to bail on you. I just needed to sleep this shit off."
"It's okay. Taco leftovers are in the refrigerator, if you're hungry."
"Sounds good. Thanks. I gotta run a few errands. You need anything while I'm out?" I'm making small talk, waiting for her to come clean about Impatient. Like maybe why she didn't tell me about her sooner. I don't understand why it had to be kept secret.
"That's sweet of you, but I don't need anything. Thanks." She knows we're dancing around the issue and sounds hesitant.
"Sure. Guess I'll see you when you get home."
"Should be home around five forty-five. And don't forget Mikayla's going away party at Delgado's is tonight. It starts at seven o'clock."
"Wouldn't miss it," I answer. Because I won't miss it. Sick or not, I'm going.
Ma walks in at five forty-five on the dot. She's always been ridiculously punctual. Never early, never late, always exactly on time. I'm always late. Obviously timeliness is not hereditary.
She leaves the front door open behind her and I'm afraid to ask why, when Impatient walks in. And holy shit. If last night was a surprise, tonight just blew that out of the water.
She's wearing a black dress. The simple fabric cascades over her body from the high neckline to the cuffs of the long, silky sleeves. It's modest, except that it falls a bit above mid-thigh ... and her legs look fantastic, especially paired with the heels she's wearing. I'm a sucker for heels. Her hair is curled slightly at the ends, which somehow softens her hard features, mollifying the stringent intensity that's housed inside. I'm used to Scout in shorts and an ill-fitting, long-sleeved T-shirt, her hair hanging straight. She's normally so ordinary. Not that ordinary is bad. Not at all. She's natural and there's something to be said for that. I prefer it. And right now she's still natural. No makeup, I'm glad she doesn't try to hide her scars with it. She doesn't need it. Her hazel eyes are an odd combination of green and gold, with not a hint of brown. They're striking and outlined by thick, long black lashes.
But her natural state is now wrapped in this dress. This tasteful and professional, but ... damn ... sexy dress. Despite the distracting new attire, I'm curious why she's Ma's new shadow. I understand that they're working together, but why was she here last night? Why is she here tonight?
"S'up, Ma?" Again, I'm looking for answers as I hug her.
She squeezes me tight before she answers, "Hi, Gus. How are you feeling?" Her hand is on my forehead checking for fever.
I cough. My sore throat has transformed into a nagging cough this afternoon. Lucky me. "I'm good, Ma."
She shakes her head. "You don't sound good."
I nod to give her the assurance she needs. "I'm good."
The dress walks past me without a word, only a curt nod, and again I'm confused as to what it even means. The nod. Here on my turf. Is it: Hi, How's it going, or Fuck you?
I turn and watch her walk down the hall. Where in the hell is she going? And then I say it out loud. "Where in the hell is she going?"
Ma starts looking through the mail on the end table. It's a distraction so she doesn't have to look at me when she tells me something I don't want to hear. "To her room."
That's when I lose my shit. "What?! Her room?!"
Ma continues her intense scrutiny of the pile of junk mail. There's nothing worthwhile in the pile of diversion—I know because I thumbed through it when I brought it in from the mailbox this afternoon. She's stalling.
So I repeat, "What do you mean by 'her room'?"
Ma sighs and straightens her shoulders to square off against me. "Scout is staying in the guest room until she can save up for a place of her own."
I shake my head and feel the anger building inside me. All my life, anger manifested slowly, if at all. These past nine months, it's been hair trigger quick, zero to fucking irate in two seconds flat. I hate it. And I know that what I'm feeling is irrational anger, but it's the principle of the situation that irks me. This isn't Ma's fault, but I can't hold it in. I point down the hall for emphasis and lower my voice as I say, "That is Bright Side's room."
Ma stares at me as her eyes turn shiny and her chin stiffens. She's never been one to hide her emotions, but she rarely cries. Sadness chases away my anger when I see the first tear fall to her cheek. She nods; she's agreeing with me, it is Bright Side's room. Always has been. Always will be.
I move toward her and hug her. She holds on like months of grief are catching up with her and spilling out as she cries into my shoulder. "She doesn't have anywhere else to go, Gus. She doesn't know anyone here. She's trying to make a fresh start."
I let her cry. And talk. And I keep my mouth shut and listen. I hate seeing Ma hurting. It just crushes me. She's always been so strong. "I miss Kate, too. You know that. No one will ever replace that girl in my heart. She was like a daughter to me, her and Gracie both, but Scout needs help. She's so smart and I see so much goodness in her, so much potential. She needs a place to stay for a while, but more than that she needs a support system, Gus, and I intend to give her both."
When she sniffles, I let her go. She smiles weakly and swipes at the mascara running beneath her eyes with her thumbs. "I'd better go freshen up so we can get to Mikayla's party."