Chapter 51 Crazy
Chapter fifty-one
Crazy
Beau
"Mom, are you here?" I call as I walk into her house. "I got your message."
Earlier today, she left me a voicemail about coming over to change out her furnace filter.
I stopped by after work, and honestly, I wouldn't be upset if she wasn't home.
I love my mother and love when I get to see her, but she's going to take one look at me and immediately know something is wrong.
She's a wizard at sussing out when I've got something on my mind.
But right now, I'm not in the mood to talk.
About anything.
It's been a day since Jo left. I tried calling her a couple of times but got no reply. I'm done doing that. I'm not going to make myself feel pathetic on top of everything else.
I've been through the gambit of emotions in the past twenty-four hours.
Sadness.
Anger.
Regret.
But I don’t want to talk about any of them right now. The silence I hear tells me I'm alone here. Thank goodness. Quickly, I walk to her mudroom in the back. It takes only a moment to slide the old filter out and the new one in.
Before I leave, I fold up the old one and put it in the trash can in the garage. Just as I'm about to escape through the front door, it swings open, and my mother walks in.
"Hey, Beau," she greets with a big smile.
"Hi, Mom. I went ahead and changed the filter for you.”
"Thanks, darlin'. I'm just not tall enough to reach that dang thing.”
"No worries. Happy to help." I put on the best fake smile I can muster. "I'll see you later."
I think I'm about to be home free, but just as I'm about to leave, she says, “Hey freeze. What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing,” I lie. "Just a little tired I guess."
"Would tired also be named Jo?" She asks while kicking off her shoes.
"Maybe."
"Come on." She gestures for me to follow her into the kitchen.
Reluctantly, I do. She opens the fridge and hands me a beer from inside.
"Mom, why do you keep buying beer? You never drink it.”
"No, but you do."
"True. But this is from a new six pack, and you know this isn't the brand I drink. So, who else have you had here drinking all your beer?" l question.
She sits down at the table and raises an eyebrow. "Do you really want to know the answer to that right now?"
I let out a heavy sigh. "No. I don't need to be kicked when I'm down."
“Do you want to tell me what's got you in a funk?"
"Would it hurt your feelings if I told you I didn't want to talk about it?"
"No. We can skip straight to me giving you my opinion if you like. But I don't know exactly what the issue is, which means I'll have to be much more broad. Which will make for a longer talk."
“Okay, okay," I stop her. "Long story short, Jo and I had a fight.
She was having a bad day and came to the shop.
She was acting crazy, saying she wanted to get out of town.
It was all just nuts. Then, I came home to find her stuff gone, and we haven't talked, and I'm just irritated about the whole thing.
I hate not knowing where we stand, and I hate that she left like that. "
“Did you call her crazy when she came to the shop?" she asks.
"Kind of," l mutter under my breath.
"Sweetie, I know you haven't had a lot of serious relationships, but calling your girl crazy is probably never a good idea.”
“Yeah, I'm starting to get that.” I say out loud.
"Beau, let me ask you something"
"What?"
"You've known Jo for half your life. You've always known that she has her quirks.
She's never been very conventional. And from what you told me from the time she's been gone, maybe some things have happened to her that have messed with her brain in a negative way. Trauma can mess with a person more than they may care to admit.”
"Was there a question in there?"
"Yeah. When did you stop accepting those things about Jo? She is never going to be normal. She's always going to have her own unique way of doing things. You need to be honest with yourself and figure out if you can love her— not in spite of those things— but because of them."