She runs a yellow light, her eyes shooting flames and her mouth crimped, so I know she’s pissed. Good. She had no right. She didn’t even ask what I wanted.
We pull into the garage, into the vacant space left by Beatrice. There’s only dust and cobwebs where the tools used to be. Empty hooks for fishing gear. A busted shovel. The garage is haunted. The whole house is haunted.
Mom gets out and leaves me in the car. Fine. I’ll live in here.
She’s standing by the sink, drinking a bottled water when I stumble in a minute later. The empty garage creeps me out.
“I’m not proud of you.” The first words she’s spoken since we left Neenee and Poppa’s.
I want to say, Yeah? Well, I’m not proud of you either.
My pits are soaked and my hands are clammy. It’s hot, sweltering. The air conditioning in the car is busted, and Jo’s not here to fix it. I want a soda, but Mom’s giving off venomous vibes, and I’m not walking past her.
“I thought we had a deal.” Her eyes cut to me.
“You did,” I say. “You never asked me.”
Mom drops a jaw. “We discussed all the options. Where were you?”
Here, I think. Invisible. Listening to you go, “Blah, blah, blah.”
“You didn’t want to go to camp and you refused day care at the Y and you couldn’t come up with the names of any friends whose parents I would’ve been happy to call and ask if we could work out a plan for having you stay with them during the day. So we settled on Neenee. You were happy with that.”
“No, I wasn’t. You were.” I hated the idea. A whole month at Neenee and Poppa’s? I’d die of boredom. They didn’t like me watching TV during the day or playing video games. What was I supposed to do for a whole freaking month? “I hate it there.”
Mom scrapes out a chair and sits. She presses the sweating bottle of water against her forehead. I saunter to the fridge for a Coke.
“Who were you calling?” she says, accusingly. She adds under her breath, “As if I didn’t know.”
Then don’t ask, I think. The icy cold fizz in my mouth is a welcome relief. I slug down half the can. I’m hungry too, but I’ll eat later. After Mom leaves. After she runs to her. I know that’s why Mom wanted me gone, so she could be with her.
“Did you realize it was long distance? Do you know how much Neenee’s phone bill is going to be?”
Like I care. That telephone in the basement was my only link to life. The only human connection keeping me alive.
I feel better now. Calmer. I miss my fish. She’d better have followed my care and feeding instructions to the letter. As I head for my room, Mom says at my back, “I’m not done talking to you.”
Blah, blah, blah. I wonder how my Acropora frag is doing. I should’ve been here to keep an eye on it. Coral is fragile. I should never have trusted her with the tanks. If she doesn’t know how to take care of me, how could she take care of my fish? I go to close my door, but Mom’s followed me in and pushes it open. “How many times did she call you?”
Everything looks the same. Neater, maybe. Kerri better not have been in here.
“Nick, I asked you a question.”
It’s too quiet. Too. Freaking. Quiet. I crank on my stereo full blast.
Mom charges across the room and slaps off the power. “Answer me.” She whirls and clenches my limp arms. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” She gives me a shake.
My eyes bore into her chest, her hole. They slowly rise up her neck to her face. “She didn’t call me. I called her.”
Mom blinks, like she doesn’t expect that.
“Why can’t I stay with Jo?” I ask. “She’s home during the day. She wants me around.”
Mom’s eyes veil.
Okay, that wasn’t fair. I know Mom has to work. But none of this is fair.
I tell Mom, “She’s working nights now so she’s around in the daytime. There’s plenty to do. You wouldn’t have to worry about me keeping busy.”
Mom pivots and veers toward the door.
I yell, “I’m speaking to you!”
She doesn’t even slow. Fine. Be that way. I’ll just talk to Jo on the phone all day here.
“I don’t like you going there.” Mom reappears on the threshold. “I don’t appreciate how surly and uncommunicative you are every time you come back from there. And that neighborhood she lives in isn’t safe.”
Lies. Excuses. Why doesn’t she just tell me the truth? I say it for her: “You hate Jo.”
Mom affects her classic look: You wouldn’t understand.
But I do understand. I’m smart enough to understand, Mom. You’re selfish and I hate you.
The doorbell rings as I’m dragging to the kitchen for a bag of chips. I feel sluggish. Mom’s upstairs, creaking around. The shower just came on.
Whoever’s at the door knocks. I know who it is. I don’t answer.
The door opens. Why’d she even bother to knock if she has a key?
“Hey, Nick,” Kerri says, bounding into the kitchen. “I didn’t know you were back.” She sets a vase of flowers on the table.
I don’t respond. We’re out of chips. When Jo was here we always kept a stash of junk food in the bottom cupboard. Kerri must’ve found it and told Mom. Or ate it herself.
“You want to come to dinner with us? We’re going to that new sushi bar down the street.”
I look at Kerri.
Her eyes widen, and she claps a hand over her mouth. “Ooh, sorry. I forgot. You don’t do fish, do you?” She rubs a knuckle against her front teeth. “They have teriyaki and rice bowls.” Her eyebrows arch. She has penciled brows. Fake brows.
Shut up, I think. You make me sick. Be careful not to touch her, I think as I slip behind and head back to my room. My sanctuary. I’ve missed it. My tanks, my fish, the soft buzz of lights and whirr of motors. I swear I can hear my fish whispering to me, communicating with me, telling me what they want and need. They’re my only company now that Jo’s gone. My sole companions, so to speak.
I stretch out on my bed and close my eyes to memorize the feel and sound and smell of my aquariums. I imagine I’m with my fish in the water. Free, untethered. The glass walls dissolve and our space expands, flows to the open ocean. This is the only space I have left here. When Jo moved out, she took more than her stuff. She stripped the soul from this house.
A sharp rap on the door snaps my thoughts back.
What now?
“Nick!”
It’s Mom. I roll off the bed, taking my time. I wrench open the door.
Mom startles, like she didn’t think I’d come.
Fooled you.
“We’re going out to dinner. If you need me, I left the number by the phone.” She waggles a stiff finger at me. “Stay off the phone.”
I want to break that finger. I eye Kerri behind Mom, rolling her eyes at me. What? We’re not in this together. We have nothing together.
Mom adds, “If you get hungry, there’s a quiche in the refrigerator that Kerri made.”
I’d starve before eating her food. I’d poison myself before I’d be poisoned by her.
Slowly, deliberately, I shut the door in their faces.