The first thing my mom said when she came home an hour or so later was, “Did you try on your new shoes?”
“No,” I said.
“Try them on. Let’s see.”
“Mom, did you get my message?”
Mom frowned.
“I told Carla it was urgent.”
She jammed one of the sneakers on my left foot, but it was a right shoe. “Hmm, that don’t fit like it should,” she said. “I hope I got your size. Eight, right? Hurry up now, I’ve got to go back and finish my shift.”
“Are you listening to me, Mom? It’s important.” I pinched her on the thigh. She thumped me on the forehead with a finger. I took the shoe from her and put it on the right foot. “Mom,” I said.
Mom let out a little whoop when she saw the shoe fit.
I put my face right up to hers and said, “Mom, some scary men came by an hour ago. I tried to call the nurses’ station three times, but it was busy. Didn’t Carla say nothing to you? She said she’d tell you.”
“No, Carla didn’t tell me noth—” Her face froze. She dropped the other shoe in her lap. “What’d they look like?” she asked in a tight voice.
“I didn’t see them. I only heard them through the mail slot.” I told her what they’d said, especially the part about Butthole. “One of them was called Travis.”
“Travis?” Mom said, pinching the tip of her nose. “I don’t know.”
Either the name rang a bell and it worried her, or it didn’t, and this worried her more.