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“I got on campus early,” TJ begins bluntly. “Look, I talked to the coach.”
I clench my fists, restraining myself from throwing my damn phone against the wall. I turn on the speaker and put on a white T-shirt, not bothering to dry off completely.
I cut my cousin off with, “Don’t waste your time. I don’t give a shit.”
I can almost picture TJ rolling his eyes and holding back a grunt. “He’s agreed to let you back on the baseball team. Your suspension can be lifted. He thinks we all need to put a little water in the wine, or something like that.”
I let out a little sarcastic laugh. Screw that damn Coach Small.
“I’m not coming back to the team,” I mumble as I pull on a pair of jeans, eager to end this conversation.
“Look, last year you two went off the rails. He couldn’t keep a player who half-smashed another student. And then you insulted the coach when he yelled at you about it. If you would just apologize, then—”
“I don’t regret a word that came out of my mouth, or any of my actions. I should have finished Matt off. I should have let Dan break his legs and let him rot in a hole.”
As I finish my sentence, I realize I’m practically screaming. TJ doesn’t answer me right away. I know he’s trying to find the right words to help me, to get me to go along with him, but he won’t. I stick to my guns.
“Debbie is your sister, but she’s also my cousin,” TJ sighs after a minute.
Was. She was.
“I understand your reaction towards Matt,” he continues. “I understand that you still want to kill him today for what he did to her. But damn, Tucker, you were so good.”
“I’ll see you later,” I cut him off, ending the call with trembling fingers.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. A new week is starting, and I can’t wait for it to end.
As I pass my sister’s room, I slow down and check to make sure the door is locked.
But it’s not. It’s supposed to remain perpetually closed, except for when the nurses and doctors come in, or Abraham. He knows this. And I know that he respects this rule, which is only meant to protect my sister from my mother’s madness. If that door is no longer locked, it means only one thing: that my mother has been there. A silent anger rumbles inside me.
I push open the door, my eyes adjusting to the semi-darkness in the room, and sigh with relief at the screen showing Debbie’s vitals. Finally, my gaze settles despite myself on the little doll lying on the bed, motionless on the sheets.
I leave the room, trying to measure my movements, trying not to send the door swinging against the wall. I walk quickly down the stairs, hearing the sound of dishes in the distance. I hurry to get to Abraham and get an explanation.
I reach the last step, and my eyes meet his as he carries a tray with various plates containing breakfast.
“Did my mom go into Debbie’s room last night?” I ask.
He nods, uncomfortable. “She wanted to tell her a story. She was very insistent. I was there, making sure everything went well.
“The last time she was alone with her, she tried to unplug her fucking pipes. I don’t want that to happen again,” I articulate through clenched teeth. “And make sure her doctor comes in today.”
Abraham stares at me blankly, knowing exactly what I’m getting at. Then he nods, and I walk toward the large living room on our right.
I almost stop when I discover my mother sitting at the end of the table. She raises her head and smiles weakly at me, but I can see that, once again, I am dealing with a stranger.
I keep it cool, not wanting her to have a fit first thing in the morning. I don’t need that right now. I don’t want to make her feel worse, even though part of me wishes I could. She is my mother, after all. The situation is so, so complicated. I walk over to my chair at the other end of the table, put my things down, and sit back down, my jaw clenched.
“Hello,” she finally whispers, seeming to come back to reality.
A heavy silence invades the room. The atmosphere is strange but so usual. The sound of dishes crunching reaches me when she can’t cut her damn pancake. She stares at her plate without really seeing it. Her doctor is coming by today, and he better gives her some new medication. The ones she’s on now seem to be making her even more confused. When I can’t take it anymore, I pull my chair back with a muffled sound and stand up.
I ignore her and walk over to her plate, picking up her fork and knife to cut her pancake into several pieces, still without a word.
I’m about to return to my seat but I stare at the clear glass right in front of her plate. I close my eyes, feeling my patience slipping away. I bend down, pick up the glass and bring it to my nostrils. Vodka.
“You drink at eight in the morning? Damn, your doctor forbids it!” I spit between my tight lips, annoyed.
