Chapter 32 #2
She’d parked on the street, because her parents’ minivan was in the driveway, and she’d wanted to leave room for Taylor’s SUV. She hadn’t realized the minivan was there, because they couldn’t pull it into the garage.
She blinked at the disarray and magnitude of items swallowing the two-car garage.
Momma had always kept a standing fridge and freezer beside the door, as well as a chest freezer.
Daddy had hunted in Winnie’s childhood and filled the freezer with venison every year.
For a few years, they’d invested in a cow co-op and gotten half a beef with a neighbor down the street, and Momma was a good cook, especially with soups and stews.
Now, moving boxes and a couch and loveseat set filled the second parking spot in the garage, and a queen mattress and box springs leaned against the wall covering Daddy’s tools.
Trash bag upon trash bag, most of them clearly tossed from the entrance and left where they landed, littered the other half of the garage.
One had liquid oozing onto the concrete.
With the sight of all that garbage, the smell hit Winnie, along with the realization that things here in Redwood were far worse than she’d known.
Lucky whined and circled her legs, and Winnie jolted back to the task at hand.
She’d never been to the landfill, but she could figure it out.
She cringed inwardly at loading up her parents’ and Taylor’s trash and driving it somewhere, but she would do whatever she had to do to be able to drive away in good conscience on Monday night.
After all, she had a job, a little house by the river, two cats, and Ty waiting in Three Rivers. She couldn’t stay here, even if Taylor forgot to feed Lucky and everyone in this house had forgotten how to walk the trash an extra twenty feet to the big black barrel outside.
She looked to the shelves above the chest freezer and found a bag of Lucky’s food there. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered, because she did not want to get back in her car and drive to the grocery store. She would have, though, because Lucky needed—deserved—to be taken care of.
She filled his bowl and set it on the floor right there in the garage, needing another moment before she went inside and confronted her mother about what had really been going on.
Unfortunately, Momma opened the door a few seconds later. “Oh, you found it.”
“Momma,” Winnie said, sweeping an arm across the garage. “What is all this?” She turned to watch her mother’s reaction. Anxiety, and then resignation, filled Momma’s gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me things had gotten this bad?”
Winnie took a step toward her, then another. From the bottom of the steps, she asked, “Mom, why doesn’t Taylor take any of this trash out?” As far as Winnie knew, her sister didn’t even have a job.
“She’s just so busy,” Momma said.
“Doing what?” Winnie bit out. “Momma, she is not busy.”
“Taking care of your dad takes a toll,” Momma said next, excuses lining her voice.
“Momma, how long has Daddy been bad enough that you can’t walk the trash to the barrel and put the barrel out on Thursday mornings?”
Her mother swallowed, hands fretting around one another. “He’s been in a lot of pain for months,” she whispered.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Winnie asked. “Does Brad know?”
“He does now,” Momma said.
“What is the point of hiding this from us?”
Tears ran down Momma’s face and Winnie’s heart broke, though she found it very hard to have sympathy for her mother. Empathy, yes, but sympathy came much harder.
“You and Brad are off living good lives,” Momma said, voice choked and full of emotion. “And Daddy and I don’t want to burden either one of you.” She wiped quickly at her face. “We’re fine here. Come on, Lucky. Come inside.”
Winnie didn’t know how to argue with we’re fine and I didn’t want to burden you. She turned her back, collected Lucky’s half-eaten dish, topped it off, and urged the canine inside. She refreshed his water with fresh, cold water, set it next to his food, and moved to the kitchen with her mother.
She opened her own Styrofoam container. “Did you eat, Momma?” she asked quietly.
“Not yet,” her mother whispered back.
Winnie nodded, picked up Momma’s order, put the container on a plate, and faced her. “Where do you want it? Couch or table?”
“On the couch, please,” Momma said, and turned that way.
Winnie followed, waited while her mother put up the footrest, helped her tuck a blanket around her legs, then handed her the plate.
Their eyes met, and pure understanding moved between the two women.
Winnie knew her mother was doing the best she could.
She had never worked and didn’t have many skills that would bring money in.
Daddy had retired a couple of years ago, and as far as Winnie knew, they had what they needed—the house paid off, no car payment, and health insurance from the state.
Momma had always claimed that having Taylor here was not a burden, as she paid for her own Dr. Pepper—though now Winnie wondered how exactly she did that if she didn’t have a job.
No matter what, it was a conversation for another time.
Winnie turned back into the kitchen to get her own food.
She’d eaten with Ty before making the drive, so she’d only ordered cheese fries.
She sat at the dining room table to eat them, Lucky still chowing down and reminding her that he had been very hungry.
She had shared her location with Tyson during the dust storm and had never rescinded it. She smiled at the word he’d once used with her, then pulled out her phone to text him, her heart heavy even as her fingers flew.