9. Lucy
Lucy
Twenty minutes later, I pull into my old neighborhood. I take in the street lined with trees, the way the leaves are turning every shade of red, orange, and yellow. I spot the playground my dad used to take me to when I was a little kid. The swing set he used to push me on.
A sob lodges in my throat. Tears fill my eyes. I miss this place so much.
I turn left at the end of the block, and my house comes into view.
My breath catches when I pull up and see the state of it.
A few of the siding panels have fallen off.
The Gerbera daisy bushes at the front of the house are wilted and brown.
He just left those to die? My dad planted those bushes for my mom.
She loved Gerbera daisies. They were her favorite flower.
When I see the pile of cardboard boxes and a table sitting at the curb, I throw the car in park and jump out.
My heart aches when I see the old coffee table from our living room. The one my dad built for my mom when I was a baby.
I turn it over and see our initials on the underside. He carved them into the wood.
EB + MB = LB.
My trembling mouth curves up in a smile. Those are our names. Edward, Myra, and Lucy.
I brush my fingertips over the carvings. My eyes blur with tears. But for once, they’re happy tears. I never thought I’d see this table ever again. I thought Richard threw it out. Thank god he didn’t.
I quickly open the boxes. I see piles of my mom’s old clothes. When I breathe in a lungful of her scent, I almost pass out. It’s the smell of rose oil and her favorite vanilla lotion. A sob falls from my throat.
“Oh, Mom.” I close my eyes and bury my face in one of her old sweaters. I inhale as deeply as I can. My heart shatters in my chest at how comforting it feels to be surrounded by her scent now. How much I miss her. So much, it’s hard to breathe.
“Lucy?” a soft voice behind me says.
I twist around and see Mrs. Poulos, my old neighbor from across the street.
I stand up, surprised to see her. She pulls me into a hug.
“Oh, honey. You’re a sight for sore eyes,” she says, her voice shaky.
I let out a soft chuckle at how hard she hugs me. She’s barely five feet tall, yet somehow she gives the most powerful hugs.
“Yeah, it’s been a while,” I say with a small smile.
When she finally lets me go, she turns around to her open garage. “Dimitri! Come see who’s here!”
A head full of salt-and-pepper hair pops up from behind their parked van. Her husband squints at me, then the biggest smile splits her face.
“Is that little Lucy Bailey?”
He walks over and hugs me.
I’m smiling so hard, my cheeks ache. “It’s me.”
When he lets me go, he holds me by my shoulders. “We’ve been wondering where you’ve been.”
“Richard said you moved out,” Mrs. Poulos says.
I shake my head, confused. “He didn’t tell you the full story?”
Mrs. Poulos shakes her head. “He sure didn’t.”
“He kicked me out after my mom died.”
Both of their jaw fall to the ground. “What?” Mrs. Poulos’s voice is a hair below a shout.
I’m quiet as I nod.
“He can’t do that,” Mr. Poulos says.
I shrug. “There wasn’t much I could do. He was married to my mom. He was her next of kin, so the house went to him, and when he didn’t want me around anymore, I had to leave.”
Mrs. Poulos balls her fists at her side.
“That jerk,” she bites. “I knew there was something off about him. He was always a little standoffish, but we liked your mother, so we figured everything was fine.” She gently grabs my hand and presses her palm over the small gold cross necklace she’s wearing. “God rest her soul.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“And then we noticed one day you weren’t around anymore,” Mrs. Poulos says.
“I asked him about it, but all he said was that you decided to move out,” Mr. Poulos says. “I thought it was strange, but I didn’t push it.” His shoulders sink.
“I’m sorry, Lucy. We had no idea he made you leave,” Mrs. Poulos says.
“It’s okay. I’m surviving.” I try to smile, but it feels so forced. I’m sure it looks that way too.
“Oh, honey.” She hugs me again. “Please tell me you have a roof over your head.”
“Because if you don’t, we’re moving you into our place,” Mr. Poulos says. “We’ve got a full house now that our daughter Gabriella moved in with her husband and their toddler, but we’ll make room for you.”
“Absolutely,” Mrs. Poulos says.
Warmth pools in my chest at their generosity. As much as I wish I could take them up on their offer to house me, I can’t. They live in a small, two-bedroom, one-bathroom home. I’m sure it’s already crowded with their daughter’s family living there. I can’t ask them to accommodate me too.
“I have a place to live, don’t worry,” I lie.
They both look relieved. Mrs. Poulos gives my hand a squeeze. “If anything changes, you better tell us, okay?”
“I will.” I glance back at the pile of boxes. “I’m just here to pick up some of my mom’s things. Richard said he was going to throw them away if I didn’t come get them right away.”
Mrs. Poulos’s expression turns angry. “That bastard. He’s gonna pay for what he’s done to you.”
“I just want to grab her stuff and leave before he comes out and sees me.”
I walk back over to the curb and start to grab some boxes, but then I freeze. I don’t have room in my car for most of this stuff.
I turn around right as Mr. and Mrs. Poulos frown at my car, which is packed to the brim with boxes and bags.
I quickly try to think of a convincing excuse to tell them. If they figure out I’m living in my car, they’ll insist I move in with them, and I can’t be a burden on them. They’re in their sixties and supporting their daughter’s family too.
“I’m in the middle of helping a friend move,” I say quickly.
“Oh, that’s nice.” Mrs. Poulos looks back at me. I can tell she doesn’t totally believe me, though.
I put one of the boxes in my crammed backseat.
“Lucy, honey, why don’t you leave your mom’s things with us?”
I turn around to them. “What?”
“You’re clearly busy helping your friend,” Mrs. Poulos says. “If you can’t fit everything in your car now, just leave it with us, and you can come back and get it some other time.”
“Whenever you’d like,” Mr. Poulos says with a gentle smile. “No rush at all.”
Emotion squeezes up my throat. They’re so kind.
“You really wouldn’t mind?”
Her eyes are misty as she smiles. “Not at all.”
I put another couple of small boxes in my car, then Mr. Poulos helps me carry the rest of the boxes and the coffee table into their garage.
I run my hand over the coffee table once more.
“We promise to take good care of your mother’s things,” Mr. Poulos says.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice shaky.
We exchange phone numbers, and they make me promise to call them if I need anything.
“Thank you so much again. I really can’t thank you enough for helping me,” I say.
They hug me again. “Oh, honey. It’s our pleasure. We just miss living across the street from you.”
I swallow hard. “I do too.”
“If Richard tries to put your mother’s things in the street again, we’ll go grab them and save them for you. And I’ll give him an earful.”
Mr. Poulos nods along with his wife. “If he tries to pull any more of this sneaky crap, I’ll be sure to confront him,” he says.
“Oh, please, don’t do that. I don’t want you to get in trouble. Or get hurt.”
He just laughs and waves a hand. “Oh, honey, I’m not as frail as I look. I was in the military for two decades. I can hold my own. Don’t you worry.”
I let a small smile break free. I thank them again, then climb back into my car and drive off.
I take a deep breath, relishing that rose-vanilla scent of my mom’s belongings. It’s the smallest comfort in the mess that’s currently my life.
I head to the club and park my car. I don’t have time for a nap before my shift anymore, but that’s okay. I turn around, reach into the backseat, and pull open one of the cardboard boxes. When I see her favorite sleeping shirt, tears of joy fill my eyes.
I hold it up to my face, close my eyes, and breathe in.
“I love you, Mom. I’m gonna get the rest of your stuff. I swear I will.”
I have no idea how, but I’ll figure out a way.
I tuck the shirt back into the box, grab my bag with all my makeup and my outfit to change into, then head into the club to get ready for my shift.