XXXV
Tori
O ur bathroom is barely big enough to fit two people in it unless one is in the shower. I didn’t have a chance to check the rest of the apartment before my mom woke up, and the bathroom is also in need of cleaning, but as I don’t want her to get distracted, I do enough to rinse out the bottom of the shower and get the water running warm.
While she showers, I add the clothes she’s been wearing to a pile outside the bathroom door with the other dirty clothes and towels to take to the laundromat later.
Once I’m certain my mom isn’t going to fall over, I head into her bedroom to find some clean clothes. The sight of her room nearly makes me burst into tears.
The mattress is exposed and stained, the covers and pillows are scattered across the floor. Clothes are spilling out from the small closet, and all the drawers are open. The jewelry box that had once been full of the items she’d hidden from the repo guys is empty. I quickly sort through the clothes littered across the room, tossing the dirty items into the growing laundry pile, while gathering up an armful for her to change into.
On a whim, I step out and go into my bedroom. Calling this room a bedroom seems generous. It fits a single bunkbed with a desk and drawers below it. The free-standing closet only fits because it almost completely covers the window. Like my mom’s room, it looks like someone has ransacked it.
The few items of value I have went to college with me, so I’m not worried about anything being missing. It’s just becoming clear how bad my mom has been.
From now on, I need to focus on her. I’m not sure how to help her. I doubt Medicaid covers rehab.
But before I do that, there’s still something else I need to do.
I pull my phone out of my pocket. The battery is already nearly dead, but the battery life isn’t what stops me from calling Payne. The conversation we need to have would be better in person.
Tori: It’s done. Do you have time to meet this evening?
Payne: Really? Are you OK? Tell me where and when, and I’ll be there.
Bringing Payne here would be helpful, so I can keep an eye on my mom, but I don’t want to have to explain everything to her. She only needs to know Cole should be coming home, and not what I’ve been through to make that happen.
I text him the address of the bar down the street. It’s the only place that’s close and will be open later this evening... and if my mom decides to get a drink, it’s the closest place she can get anything.
The sound of the water turning off makes me stick my phone into my pocket and grab the towel that’s hanging on the back of my door. It smells musty, but it will do for now.
After handing the towel and clothes to my mom, I leave her to get dressed and go to make something for us to eat. Seeing the state of the refrigerator and cabinets, I splurged a little on the groceries, picking up a few items that were more on the luxurious side than normal, like chicken and a few vegetables to make something resembling a roast for dinner tomorrow. The rest are staples. And while they might be better for her to eat, a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup is quick and easy.
While everything is cooking, I quickly finish cleaning up our small dinner table before I bring through the two small bowls and a plate of sliced grilled cheese to share.
Mom is already sitting at the table. Her hair is still wet from the shower, but she already looks a lot better. We eat in silence because, although I have a lot I need to tell her, I’d like the meal to work a little magic on her first.
She finishes before me, pushing the bowl away from her as she sits back in the chair. “If I knew you were coming home, I’d have cleaned up a little.”
In our previous life, we had a housekeeper. Nothing like the number of employees Syn has, but still, a woman who was responsible for cleaning and cooking. My mom barely did anything. Neither had I, to be fair. When we moved here, it was me who had figured it all out while Mom curled up into a ball on the couch and watched Netflix all day.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I’m here now. Maybe we can work together to finish cleaning up? Get the place looking a little nicer?”
Our living room already looks a million times better from clearing all the empty bottles out. My mom looks around and nods.
“Mom, I came home because I have some good news. They found the person who really killed James Patrick Keyingham. There are lawyers already working on getting Cole released. He should be home with us soon.”
“Released?” Mom stares blankly at me. “He confessed.”
I shake my head. “He didn’t do it. He was forced to take the blame.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because someone threatened to hurt us. But don’t worry,” I quickly tell her. “That’s taken care of too.”
Mom’s eyes start to well up. “He’s coming home?”
I nod, giving her a bright smile. “The lawyers will be in touch, but I don’t think it will be long. Maybe even by the end of the year.”
“What about your father? Is he coming home too?” she asks, her wide eyes full of hope and expectation.
My smile remains fixed on my face, even though it’s now there by force.
I’ve not heard from Dad since he left, nor do I have any idea where to even find him. And I’m not even sure I want to look for him. My mom is the way she is because she lost her husband, her son, and as much as it shames me to admit it, she lost me for a while—even if it was temporary. But no matter how hard it has been, at least she’s still here.
“Cole’s release should make the news,” I tell her, trying not to tell a lie I’ll regret in the future.
Looking the happiest I’ve seen her in such a long time, my mom stacks the plates and gets to her feet. “We need to get this place looking clean and tidy for them. We should start looking for a new place to live. It will be a tight squeeze in here. And a cake. We need a cake. I’ll have to order one from Indulgent Bakes. Cole loves Red Velvet…” Mom continues talking excitedly to herself as she heads into the kitchen.
I don’t have the heart to point out that Indulgent Bakes is the very expensive bakery we used to buy cakes for all the occasions when we had money. Instead, I tell her that we can figure it out after we know when Cole’s coming home. That satisfies her enough to have her humming to herself as she starts straightening the living room.
For most of the afternoon, I keep myself busy cleaning the bathroom, and my mom’s bedroom. By the time I’m done, there’s more things in the laundry pile instead of the drawers and closets. There’s enough clothes to get her through the next few days, but all of her bedsheets… gross.
There’s still a while before I need to meet Payne, and as the laundromat is open twenty-four hours, I gather all the bedsheets together and squish them into the oversized bag I found for that exact purpose.
“Mom, I’m going to go do some laundry. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
Mom’s already sitting on the couch, watching television. “Okay,” she says without looking up.
I put my coat on, and then sling the bag over my shoulder.
Outside, the streetlights are already turning on. The temperature feels like it has dropped a few more degrees since I went to the grocery store, making me wish I had a pair of gloves. The laundromat is only a block over, and it’s completely empty when I arrive. Not that I’m surprised—who wants to be here on the last weekend before Christmas?
This neighborhood isn’t one of the best, but it looks rougher than it is. The laundromat is one that doesn’t have someone manning it, and while a few machines don’t work, there’s never any heat, and there’s more graffiti than paint, but there seems to be an unspoken rule that this is a place so many people need, so it’s off limits to any major damage.
Once my laundry is in the large-load washer, I sit down on the bench and pull out my phone. I’ve not checked it since I set it charging, expecting to have a bunch of messages and calls from Syn, Royal and Gemini, but there’s nothing.
If it wasn’t for the message from Penny, I’d think it was broken; I was convinced that message wouldn’t be enough.
Perhaps William Keyingham had a word with Syn?
Whatever the reason they’ve not messaged, I shouldn’t care—I don’t care.
I turn my attention to the essay of a message Penny’s written…
Penny: Tor, it's been a few days, and I’ve heard nothing from you. I know the Gala was last night—did you find that guy? Is everything OK? I’m at Jake’s house in SoHo, and all we’re doing is watching Christmas movies with Nicole, so if I need to come find you, I’ve already got a small search party I’m not afraid to use. But Chanukah starts tomorrow, and if I’m not back by sunset, you’ll have Bubbe hunting us all down!! I hope it was good news, but if it was bad, and you need to be alone, that’s fine—just message me back and let me know you’re alive at least! But also, you’re welcome to come join us for Christmas movies. Let me know where you are, and I’ll send a car.
Tori: I’m fine, don’t worry. I’ve got a lot to tell you, but I need a minute.
Halfway through telling her what happened, the low battery warning flashes, and then the phone turns itself off.
The battery was low earlier, and I was distracted with cleaning so I never pulled my charging cable out of my bag. The phone is such an old model now that it barely lasts a full day without needing to be charged.
It's annoying, but I’ll call Penny later after I’ve seen Payne. She’ll be mad that I’ve made her wait all that time, but at least she knows I’m alive. I completely believe her when she said she’d come looking for me, and while I don’t mind her coming to my place, it’s a trek for her when she should be enjoying her time with her boyfriend and girlfriend.
Sticking my phone and my hands into my coat pockets, I lean back against the wall and stare out the dirty window. In the short time I’ve been in here, it’s gone completely dark outside. There's a few cars driving past, but very few people.
By time my washer finishes, and I’ve transferred all the sheets into a dryer, I’m still the only person in the laundromat. I’m wishing I’d brought a book with me, so I occupy myself by alternating between reading the notices and posters on the wall and pacing back and forth to keep warm.
Once the sheets are dried and folded, I head back home. “I’m back,” I announce as I walk into the living room.
Mom’s still on the couch watching television, but she moves quickly to look at me. “Where have you been?”
I pause in the doorway to her bedroom. “Laundry. Remember?”
“Oh, yes.” She nods.
“I’ll make the beds, and then I’ll get started on dinner. How does pasta sound?”
“Sounds good.” She doesn’t look at me, instead, sits back down on the couch.
Maybe I’m expecting too much from my mom. I’ve been away for a while, and even if I’ve returned with good news, I can’t expect things to return to the way they were.