Jacob – Past
I walk up the ramp to the trailer, stepping over the part that’s rotted through, leaving a hole, and open the door.
“Mom, I’m home.”
No answer.
I move through to the living room. She’s passed out on the sofa, a half finished bottle of whiskey hanging from her hand. I take the bottle gently, and she shifts but doesn’t wake. I carry it into the kitchen. I used to pour it down the sink. Now, I just put it in the cupboard.
Back in the living room, I crouch beside her and start to help her up.
“Jacob, is that you?” she mumbles, slinging her arm around my shoulder, trying to stand.
“Yeah, Mom. It’s me.”
“I must’ve… must’ve fallen asleep.” Her words are thick, slurred, an old excuse that doesn’t mean anything anymore.
“It’s okay, Mom. Let’s get you to bed.”
I guide her down the hallway, steadying her as we go.
There’s shattered glass on the floor beside her mirror. Drops of blood on some of the shards.
I take her to the other side of the bed and help her lie down, then pull the covers over her. Her eyes are already closed when I take her hand and flip it over, examining the damage. Blood still trickles from a deep gash in the center of her palm.
In the kitchen, I grab a dish rag and run it under the tap until it’s soaked through. Then I lift the trash can and carry it back with me.
I press the rag to her cut, and her eyes snap open. She watches silently as I tie it off. It’s the best I can do without a proper bandage. A cut that deep probably needs stitches, but I know better than to suggest that.
“What happened to your face?” she asks, touching my cheek with the back of her fingers, gently.
“Don’t worry about that, Mom. Just get some rest. I’ll clean this up.”
She sighs and sinks back into the pillow. A few minutes later, her eyes are closed again, her breathing soft and even.
I lean down beside the bed and begin picking up the broke pieces of glass, dropping them carefully into the trash can.
***
I’ve just finished my homework for Mr. Well’s class when the electricity cuts out.
I pull my shoes, step carefully over the rotted hole in the floor, and head around the side of the trailer to check the meter.
Damn.
I only topped it up last week, I thought I’d have at least another few days.
Back inside, I empty the fridge and toss what won’t last into a bag. Then I knock on Mary’s door, running numbers in my head while I wait.
She opens up, a hand to her chest. “Jacob? What’s wrong, is your mom okay?”
“She’s fine, but do you mind if I use your phone again?”
She smiles and steps aside. One of her cats, eleven, last she told me, winds around my ankles as I walk through to the kitchen. I lift the phone from its hook and dial Keith’s number.
“Hello?” he answers.
“Keith, it’s Jacob. Have you got anything for tomorrow?”
“Don’t you have school?”
“It’s closed. Some teacher training day or something,” I lie. I need the cash more than I need algebra right now.
“Let me check.”
He sets the phone down, and I hear the soft flick of pages.
“Can you be here for six?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there. Thanks.”
“See you then, kid.”
I hang up, thank Mary, and stroke the gray cat pacing around my feet as I head out.
If I work all day tomorrow and ask Keith for a few extra hours Saturday, that should cover the electric. I’ll need to see if Harry can give me more shifts, too.
My foot goes straight through the rotted plank. I swear under my breath and yank it out.
Add that to the list.