It was a little after two in the morning Saturday when I heard a trashed-out car pulling up into the driveway. The exhaust backfired with a bang like a shotgun blast and echoed off the front of the house. That ought to be driving Logan just this side of crazy, I thought. Nothing good could come of a visit from anyone at this hour. I slipped my cell between the elastic of my panties and my hip. Just in case. I left the lights off in my room, but I cracked the door.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing driving here?” my mom yelled. It didn’t even sound like my mom’s voice, but it was. Shrill and ragged, loud and drunk. “We had an agreement. Now anybody passing by is going to see that piece of shit you stole out front and know you’re here.”
“Borrowed,” a man mumbled. Whoever it was talking spoke so low it took me a moment to puzzle the sound into a word. There was only one person it could be.
“Goddamnit, Hayes, what’s wrong with you? Are you stupid as all that?” There was a wet sob in her voice that made my own throat burn with held-back tears. I wanted to go out there and hit him in the crotch with the first heavy object that came to hand.
“Do you want me to move it?” His voice was thick and slow and sad.
“What I want you to do is to get the hell out of here. I almost lost my job today because of you and your stupid shit … ah, damn it, Hayes.” The yell left her voice. Now my mom’s words sagged in the middle and stumbled at the ends. I don’t remember ever hearing her sound like this before, so defeated.
“I’m sorry,” Hayes said. He sounded like a beat dog. “I was trying to help us.”
“Us? Us? You’re such a fucking liar,” my mom said. The refrigerator door slammed and the bottles on the inside shelf clanged together.
“Darla, wait.”
“Darla, wait,” Mom mimicked back in an ugly falsetto.
“I’m in over my head with this one, Darla, I really need—”
“No, Hayes, no. I won’t.”
“Wait till you hear me out.”
“It don’t matter what you say. I’m done, Hayes. Got it? Through.”
Hayes didn’t say anything I could hear, and this was probably a smart move on his part.
“Well,” Mom said after taking a noisy slurp of beer, “did your cousin lend you a hundred and fifty grand?”
Hayes mumbled.
“I guess that means you’re shit out of luck.”
The closet door thumped against the dresser. Oh shit, not now. Thank God and all his angel buddies Mom and Hayes were too wound up to hear it. I tiptoed over to the closet and poked my head in. Logan’s hair stuck out around the drawers.
“Lynn, are you and your mom in trouble?”
“No, sweetie, just my mom breaking up with Hayes.”
He made a raspy laughing noise. “Don’t sound like he’s taking it so well, huh?”
“Nope.”
Hayes spoke very, very quietly. Soft, sorry syllables that sounded an awful lot like an apology from where I stood behind my bedroom door. This went on for quite a while. I couldn’t make out one word of it, so I edged out into the hall until I could match the sounds to words and put the words into sentences—all the while careful as hell not to get too close.
I felt sick and sorry. Listening to Hayes, I heard myself—trying to spin bullshit into something shiny and believable. I slumped against the wall and slid to the floor, yanking my T-shirt over my knees. In some strange and awful way, I had this powerful feeling it was me that brought this entire mess into our house. I tied the strings to each trouble. Me seeing Hayes that night at the Bow Wow club was a big one. I felt sure it had been this that caused Marty’s creeps to come to our house. They’d only reeled in that string, whether they knew it or not. And Marty would never of tried sneaking into the house had I not tied the next one. Bringing Logan home and keeping him locked up behind my closet brought Marty here. See how they match up? The causes and effects were too clear for me to ignore. I knew these things were true the way I knew the sun would come up in the morning. If not for me, Hayes would of seen the end of his bad behavior somewhere far from our house. If I’d only left well enough alone, my biggest worry right now would be the Algebra II exam next Friday. Who knew what other ugly, ill-intentioned people were reeling in the different lines I’d tied right that very minute?
“Darla,” Hayes said, so strenuous in his pleading that his voice trembled, “listen to me, please. I fucked up. I know that. I can’t undo it. But the man is going to fucking kill me. You do get that, don’t you? Not beat the shit out of me. They already done that. Kill me dead. Jason told me—”
“Who?” Mom wailed.
“The one what let me use his car. The beater out front. I’ve been sleeping in it different places every night. Jason, he told me he saw Butthole Gibbs parked outside your house today looking for me. You know what he brought with him?”
“Great. Now you’ve led yet another asshole straight to my house. Lynn is here for God’s sake. Use your head.” Something crashed against the wall. “Get the hell out of here now or I’ll call the police myself.”
“You wouldn’t call the police on me,” he said, but he didn’t sound so sure. “Wait. I didn’t tell you yet. Butthole came in a panel van and parked across the street. Stayed all afternoon just looking at the house. And he left a great, big pile of shit down at the foot of your driveway. You can make me leave, and I will, but it’s not only me they’re after anymore. They think we’re partners. All of them think that or they wouldn’t be coming by and fucking with you and Lynnie the way they’ve done.”
Mom laughed like a frog. Croak, croak, croak. This didn’t stop Hayes one bit. He kept on and on, but he spoke in that low, mumbly voice again and I couldn’t make out enough of the words to puzzle any sense out of them. Pills, dogs, fucking, trouble. After a while the words sputtered out and someone started sobbing, but I couldn’t tell whether it was him or my mom or both. The refrigerator door opened, rattled and shut. And then a couple of minutes later it opened again. But the door to the house never opened, so I guess she let him stay, or at least didn’t make him leave. There’s some difference there, but not all that much. I wanted to go out and talk with her, but I knew very well my mom’s anger could easily turn on me. I sat down next to my bedroom door and thought, Jesus, has there ever been a day when I haven’t been the mother around here. And then I thought, We’re both shitty mothers. I didn’t raise her right.