“YOUR FATHER’S GOTTEN so fat lately,” Mom says to me at the top of our creaky wooden stairs. “I’m almost glad I’m dead.”
“That’s not funny.”
I talk to Mom a lot in my head, and she always answers back. I’ve gotten so good at listening for her, I’m almost convinced we really are talking to each other. Almost.
“Have you seen his gut lately?” she asks in the snicking sound of my feet against the floorboards as I go into the bathroom. “It has its own gravitational field.”
“He’s a little down.”
“A little down? He’s like one of the mole people.”
“He’s had a hard year. You shouldn’t criticize him.”
“You shouldn’t kick people in the head,” she tells me while I brush my teeth. “Go get your father next time.”
“The guy deserved it.”
“I know he did. Just for that greasy hair alone.” I almost feel her slide her hand along my hair while I gargle. “And I know your father isn’t much help these days.”
“Xander’s acting crazy and he barely notices.” I click off the bathroom light and we step into the hallway. I pause to look at the window above the stairwell. If I squint, I can almost believe I see Mom’s reflection standing behind me. It’s probably just the double-pane glass making two of me, but I want to believe I’m seeing Mom’s shoulder-length blond hair and dark eyes. Xander and I are both brown-eyed blondes, just like Mom. It’s the Vogel trademark. “Xander stays out all night sometimes,” I say to Mom in my head.
“She’s trying to outrun her pain.”
“What if she does something stupid?”
“She most certainly will. And so will you. Stupidity is part of being young.”
When she says things like this, I think the voice in my mind must really be Mom. I would never say anything so annoying to myself.
I walk down the narrow hallway and go into my room. I leave the light off, and dive underneath my lilac-colored sheets. They smell funky. It’s time I washed them.
I imagine her sitting on the edge of my bed, tucking her hair behind an ear. I close my eyes, and she smiles at me. “You’re handling things pretty well.”
I’m trying.
“Better than your father is. He’s rather boneless these days.”
“I wish you were here to kick his ass.”
“He’s trying. It doesn’t seem like it, but he is.”
“Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”
I don’t hear anything more, but I feel her in the room with me. It takes me a long time to relax. I lay in the dark, remembering days when I didn’t know Mom could die, and everyone was together, when the trouble Xander got in was harmless and funny.