4. Jeanie
4 /
jeanie
Zombie Drugs
I find the hide-a-key for the Beefmobile, open the door, climb in, and close the hatch. The spacious interior is a camper, food truck, and merchandise store, all in one. But right now, it’s the closest thing to home.
I collapse on the bunk bed and cry. Tears are hard to fend off when someone you love tells you you’re pathetic. Maybe I am. I roll over and crush my face into a pillow.
Eventually, the tears dry out. Then I do what I always do—wipe my cheeks and restart. If I focus on something else, anything, the hurt will go away. For a little while.
I wipe down the Beef’s sink with a sponge and then pick up all the empty water bottles and cups. Crouching, I tidy a rack of merchandise. I flip through the T-shirts and hold up one. Across the chest is an illustration of Roman dressed like an astronaut and holding a beef sandwich. Unfortunately, the shirt is three sizes too small. If I tried it on, only one boob would fit.
I scour the cabinets, searching for more clothing. Instead, I find a picture frame. With it gripped in my hand, I sink to the mattress, studying the old family vacation photo. We were in Wisconsin Dells playing mini golf. When I touch the photo, a mountain of happy memories rush back. My nose burns again.
As I place the frame on the shelf where it should be, a piece of paper flutters to the floor. I scoop it up and stare at the scrolling gold letters. A quick glance confirms my worst nightmare. It’s Roman and Sophia’s wedding invitation, which means this is Roman’s Mr. Beefmobile, not my Mrs. Beefmobile. In my distress, I hadn’t even noticed.
The side door screeches open. I hold my breath, waiting for Roman to appear with a threat to call the police. My shoulders relax when Dex steps inside. He sighs when he sees me.
“How’d you find me?” I turn the invite around in my hand.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” He loops an arm around my shoulders and places a peck on my cheek.
I rip up the invite.
“Were you cleaning ?” Dex looks around, appearing shocked as he should. I despise cleaning.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” I toss the shredded paper on the counter. I can’t believe Dex tried to hide his dad’s wedding from me. He used to tell me everything. My lips twist.
“I need money for fabric to sew some new boxers.” He swipes an old pair from a duffel bag on the top bunk and waves them in the air. “I’ve got skid marks. ”
“Your dad’s getting remarried this weekend and you’re showing me skid marks?” My brow furrows.
“I’m trying to make you laugh.” He tests a sheepish grin, but I’m unmoved.
“You told me you were here with Dad for spring break.”
How can Roman get married so fast? It feels like I only signed the divorce papers yesterday, though when I count the months, I realize it’s been a year.
“What did I do? I’m losing him!” I fall onto the bed, returning to misery. Trembling hands cover my face.
The mattress squeaks when Dex lies beside me. He snuggles close like he did when he was a mini.
“Dad’s stupid, but you pushed me to talk to him again. So, I did,” Dex says.
Sniffling, I face him. “I wanted you to have a relationship. He tries to be a good dad.”
“He’s a terrible dad, and I’m only here because it’s a free trip to Miami Beach during spring break.” Dex wipes my tears.
I perk up.
“You used Dad for a ticket to a beach party?” I grin, hopeful.
I’ve been waiting for Dex to break out of his rigid shell and be a little rebellious. He’s always been a levelheaded old soul.
“Better.” He beams. “I have tickets to the food and wine festival.”
“ Really ?” My face scrunches. “Instead of beach parties, underage drinking, and safe sex? Don’t you want to try some drugs or something? Do teenager things?” Realizing what I just said, I quickly clarify our inappropriate ongoing joke. “I mean, but no zombie drugs, okay? They make you eat people’s faces. It’s disgusting.”
Dexter laughs. “Look at you, trying to be a good mom. I’m so proud of you.” He strokes my forehead. “You want a snack? I’ve got homemade fruit roll-ups in my backpack.”