Chapter Twelve
“Fuck,” Reese huffed.
Her back was throbbing from all the reaching and tugging of items that shouldn’t be her problem but were. She had no idea how to classify what she was wading through.
It wasn’t items like she’d seen on the show Hoarders.
There wasn't a massive amount of food-filled containers or dirty sanitary items. No piles of animal feces. Her mother couldn’t stand pets.
There were no childhood feline friends in Reese’s history.
No cute puppy that she grew up with. She once asked for a bird.
A little bluebird that she saw on television.
Joyce had just scoffed and said she could go outside if she wanted to see birds.
Reese was surprised at the lack of bugs or mouse droppings.
There were spiders, though. Which made her cringe.
With all the clutter, she would have thought something else would have been hiding beneath the piles of yard sale items. The only items that really showed up on repeat were the empty cheap vodka bottles.
Boxes of them tucked here and there. She could hardly stand to look at them, so those quickly became the items she got rid of on sight.
Every bottle thrown out felt like a tiny bit of peace being restored to her life.
A black-and-gold-labeled bottle, some plastic, some glass, littered her childhood just like they littered the little bungalow.
She had worked for hours in the living room.
Somehow, she had managed to find the old burnt orange couch under a mound of more dolls and what could only be described as a shit ton of throw blankets and pillows.
There had to be at least twenty blankets alone.
All on top of and hanging off the side to form one massive mound.
Children’s throws, full-size to king. She saw an old-school Cinderella and another with Barney.
One with cartoon squirrels. A few hand-crocheted ones of all sorts of colors.
The king-size one was striped sage and gold and had palm trees accenting the corners.
It was absolutely awful and felt stiff. She dug a little more and discovered an empty bottle of Coke, her mother’s favorite chaser, which was likely the cause.
Hunched over a box full of men’s shoes, some faded, and some smashed, she hefted it up.
The groan that left her lips sounded louder than the music she was playing from a portable Bluetooth speaker.
She had been listening to ’90s alternative rock all day.
She tried not to think about the reason for it.
Matty, her kindness, and those damned soft eyes had plagued her since she pulled out of her driveway yesterday evening.
As she hefted the box up, she didn’t realize that she had inadvertently pushed against a collection of brooms and mops tucked behind.
They fell around her and the box, which was frustrating enough, but then she felt the pressure and stickiness of webbing.
She dropped the box instantly to drag her hands over the spider webs that were covering her.
A scream left her lungs. She didn’t know if there were spiders or not, but she imagined dozens of them crawling over her and panic ensued.
Her arms fought imaginary monsters as she clenched her eyes shut.
Stepping back, she struck a pile of empty cat litter containers.
Why Joyce had them was a mystery, and she fell backward, landing on the dirty, dusty carpet.
A cloud of grime bloomed up around her as she inhaled at the exact worst time.
She choked, her airway struggling with the dust and the impact of hitting the floor. It was like it couldn’t decide if she wanted to intake or expel the air.
Exhausted and a little defeated, she lay there on the gross carpet waiting for her breathing to return to normal.
Her gaze landed on the lazy swirl of the ceiling fan above her. Its cloudy glass globes around the yellowed light bulbs were decorated in webbing as well, like a spider’s crocheted craft.
“Of course, that would need cleaning as well.” She rolled her eyes.
As much progress as she had made, it was like she was wading in a sandbox. For every shovelful she pitched out, someone threw two more in.
She just had to keep moving forward. If she kept going, eventually the house would be all hers and not the ghosts of the past.
As she was sitting up, her pocket buzzed. She fished it out to see Haley’s name.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” greeted Haley. She could hear the noise of a crowd, like in a stadium, in the background. “What are you doing?”
“I’m knee-deep in parental hoarding hell. I just found a lovely little section of spiderwebs and, for some reason, a huge box of men’s shoes.”
“Men’s shoes? Were those from all the husbands from the past, or was she catching strays when they came to the door and sucking the souls right out of them, leaving only their clothes?”
Reese paused, then replied deadpan, “Definitely the second one. I bet that’s how her liver held out for so long.”
Only her best friend could understand how she could talk like that about her mother. Haley had seen firsthand how evil Joyce was, and that inappropriate humor softened the trauma of the past.
“That and spite.”
They broke out laughing, the act making her shoulders feel a little lighter.
“How is the sports thing going?”
“It’s actually going great. Addison is doing fantastic. If only I could keep her dad from losing his mind anytime the ref makes a call. I swear he and some other parents forget that these are kids and it’s not the Olympics.”
“It’s all or nothing in the South, you know that. People have to live vicariously and sometimes viciously through their children.”
“True. I guess I should just be happy that no one’s hit each other.”
“Yet.”
“Yet. So, speaking of the sports. Since Addison is doing so well and we haven’t spent a lot of family time outside of sports, we’ve decided to stay a couple more days. There’s a great kids’ museum with interactive exhibits and a zoo we’re going to explore.”
Reese’s heart dropped. She stared down at herself. Cobwebs, dirt, and sweat covered her. “Oh.”
Haley’s voice was laced with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Reese. I know you were relying on us to get back in time to shower. I feel awful about it.”
“No worries. Don’t you dare feel bad. I’ll be just fine.”
“I just feel so bad. I could ask my mother-in-law if you can use hers. You’ve met her before at our wedding, remember?”
Well, this really was a new low. At what point in her life did she start having to rely on the kindness of strangers to take care of her basic hygiene? First Matty and now a woman she’d met once. It was pathetic.
She mustered up as confident and convincing a voice as she could. “Hal’s, don’t sweat it. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” She could hear the plea for confirmation in her best friend’s voice.
“Of course I’m sure. I was thinking about signing up for the gym by Kroger anyway. It’s got a shower.” The lie came out far smoother than she should have been comfortable with, but when raised by a narcissist, one tended to learn from the best.
“Awesome, I feel better then.”
“Good. I should probably get back to work. Let me know if any parents get into a brawl. No, wait, take a video and send it to me.”
Haley laughed. “Deal.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up.
Her head dropped. This was a nightmare she couldn’t seem to wake up from.
A few hours later, she was about to call it a day.
She had been working all day, the spring evening sun was starting to set, and her stomach was growling something awful.
The turkey and cheese sandwich she had for lunch was long gone.
She thought of Matty and her goulash. That sounded delicious.
Far tastier than whatever she ordered from DoorDash.
As she was sitting down at the newly discovered couch to browse her dinner options, she heard a crunch of paper. For a brief moment, she thought about not reaching between the cushions to see what it was. She was sure she knew already. She had found so many so far.
“Goddamn it, Joyce.”
With a slight tremor to her hand, she tugged the already familiar piece of lined notebook paper out, then unfolded it.
Her mother’s familiar looping scroll greeted her. Or rather, spat at her.
April 14th or something like that. Does it matter anymore?
Once again, I’m reminded of how lonely my world is.
I fell again. Hurt my hip something awful.
Plum eat up with a black and purple bruise.
I’m lucky I didn’t break my hip. Since I’ve been abandoned, I had to rely on the kindness of strangers from EMS to take me to the hospital.
My physical pain has been intense but not nearly as bad as the pain in my broken heart.
Reese sighed and counted to ten, breathing in and out slowly.
She could feel the tears springing up. Could feel the flush of anger assaulting her skin.
It was another manipulation tactic. Her mother was determined to have the last word, even after death.
She had found so many of the notes already.
The hoard was like a field of gaslighting and guilt-induced land mines.
The first few notes had gutted her. She had sat there and let them brew in her brain until it felt like she was seventeen again, ashamed and cornered and somehow still responsible for her mother’s feelings.
But then she had called her therapist, the woman who had spent years listening to Reese untangle all the damage Joyce had done, and she had been talked back down.
It was just another game. Another jab. Another last desperate reach for control.
And in a way, she was letting Joyce win, wasn’t she?
There she sat in a filthy house, covered in the grime of it, unable to fully wash herself clean, crying over the words of a dead woman who had never once made her peace a priority.
Joyce might as well have been standing in the room laughing.
Reese had been dragging her feet for weeks now, half-living in this mess, letting the house and everything inside it keep her stuck.
Anger filled her, flaring like white lightning in her chest. She was done.
She was totally and completely done. There would be no more avoiding.
No more hiding upstairs in her little bubble.
Just like how she advised the men she helped every day, she knew she had to accept and embrace the uncomfortable to reach her goals.
Sometimes, the only way out was straight through the ugliest part of it.
She balled up the note, snatched up her phone, and stalked up the stairs to her room for her purse.
Pushing back at the doubt that was trying to stop her, she dug out the piece of paper with a number on it.
If she paused too long, she knew she would let embarrassment stop her from asking for help.
She’d tell herself she could handle it on her own.
That asking for help was a weakness. That she didn’t need anyone.
Her hands were shaking as she punched the numbers in and then held her breath as it rang. A tentative voice answered. “Hello?”
It took her twice to swallow around the lump in her throat before she could force the words out. “Hey, Matty, it’s Reese. I need your help.”