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It suits me for now. My buddies in town have tried to get me to rent a place, but I like the idea of being able to pick up and move on when it suits me. Freedom.
The word triggers a memory. What’s that lyric? Oh yeah. I sing it low under my breath as I walk toward the van, Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose.
I round the side of the van and skid to a stop. I’m hallucinating. I have to be.
Mother is absolutely not sitting in my ripped blue folding chair, one pant-suited leg crossed over the other.
I blink rapidly, trying to get the illusion to dissipate. Nothing happens.
Mother calmly removes her giant Anna Wintour sunglasses as I gape like a goldfish at her. Patient for once, she gives me time to recover.
Finally I get out the first of many questions assaulting my brain: “What the hell are you doing here?”
“It’s lovely to see you too, Rhett,” Mother says sarcastically.
“No,” I say firmly. “Nope. Get out of here.” I point my finger back toward town. “I mean it. I’ve got a good thing here. You don’t get to mess this up too.”
The words are harsh and I mean every one of them. Partially. Liz has dominated my thoughts over the past months, but Mother also hasn’t been entirely forgotten. At least with Liz, the problems are more clearcut, not seeped in so many years of resentment and disappointment. I wouldn’t say I missed her. I definitely don’t miss the expectations and lectures. But when her birthday rolled around and we didn’t go to Club 21 for martinis, a sad part of me wondered if we ever would again.
“Messing things up is not my intention, Rhett,” Mother says testily. My reaction hurt her. Her face barely flickers, but I know her well enough to see it in her steely blue eyes.
“Then why is that so often the result?” I snap. “Why are you here?”
“Answers, for one,” Mother says. “You disappear for months with not so much as a note. I would have thought you were dead if Liz hadn’t also quit with no explanation. You wouldn’t believe the position you put me in!”
“Ah, yes,” I say sarcastically. “Liz left with Marie Alencar’s account in her pocket. Hope you hadn’t already sent out a victory letter to the shareholders.”
“Don’t be snide,” Mother says. “I don’t give a fuck about Marie Alencar’s money!”
“That’s not my memory of it,” I shoot back. “‘Get that money or don’t bother coming back at all’. Ring any bells?”
“Don’t be childish, Rhett,” she admonishes. “We both know it was never about the money. It was about showing some responsibility.”
“Well then maybe your plan worked,” I say. “Because I have responsibility now. And I’ve never been happier.”
I expect her to be haughty. I expect her to say that working on cars on a dirt track doesn’t count as responsibility. But instead Mother shocks me for the second time in five minutes.
She lifts her chin and says firmly, “And I’m happy for you.”
I blink. I scratch the back of my head. Mother holds my gaze defiantly. Yes, I said it. So what? her expression says.
Things have been so contentious between us for so long that I’ve apparently forgotten how to respond to a kind word. Confliction rages inside me as I’m torn between furious that she’s dropping this on me and, and… God, is it pathetic that after everything I just want her to be proud of me?
I let out a groan of frustration and then, without another word, I fling open the door of my van. I pull out my spare folding chair from the storage space and pop it open. Then I open my mini-fridge.
“How…?” Mother starts.
“Solar panels,” I say gruffly, digging in the fridge.
“I was going to ask where you got all of this,” she says.
I extract two Budweisers. She raises a single eyebrow but that only makes me offer her one more forcefully. She takes it reluctantly and twists the top with her perfectly manicured nails.
I sit beside her. We’re both silent, watching the forest, each of us waiting for the other to start round two.
I’m fine with a moment of peace. It’s the most beautiful time of the day here. The sun is just starting to set and the fading rays make the forest come alive. But I’m unable to enjoy.
“I saved the money I made doing repairs for friends,” I say finally. “And I get paid at the track. Don’t worry, none of it came from you.”
