CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I watched as they lowered my mom’s casket into the ground. Most everyone had already left, not that there were too many people there to begin with. But what burned me up was that my father didn’t show. He paid to put my mother in the ground, but couldn’t bother to stand and watch it. I hated him.
This was his fault. She wrapped her car around a pole. He wasn’t driving the car, but it didn’t matter. He used her. He left her. Left her with a pain that even time couldn’t fix. I hated him for it.
Annie slipped her hand into mine, nodding toward the road, my dad pulling up. I was supposed to go live with him now. Live with his wife, in a house that my mother always wanted to be hers, while my mom was in the cold, dark ground.
“Even though we won’t be neighbors anymore, I’ll come over all the time, and you can come to my house,” Annie said. “You’ll be alright.”
“I’ve never even met Vicki except for that one night,” I said.
“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Annie said. “They don’t have kids of their own. Maybe she’ll be excited to have a kid in the house.”
“Maybe she’ll hate me because of my mom.”
Annie grabbed my hand, forcing my eyes to hers. “We can go right now. Run away. Never come back.”
“You’d do that?” I asked.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” she said, and I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly, both of us in tears.
Then I felt his cold hand land on my shoulder. “Son.”
I squeezed Annie tighter. “Just say the word,” she whispered.
“Can Annie come with us?” I asked, without looking at my dad.
*
Their house looked like it could hold ten of me and mom’s house. Gray stone exterior, gated, and not one bit of me wanted to go inside. My dad opened the front door, and Annie went in next, leaving me to follow. “All your stuff’s here already,” my dad said. “Picked it up earlier.”
My mom didn’t own that house. We just rented it, so the owner was anxious to get another tenant in. You’d think after living there close to ten years that they’d be a little nicer.
We stepped through the foyer into the living area. People say there’s a difference between new money and old money. Well, this place screamed new money. Tacky animal print, gold accents, bright patterned wallpaper. My mom didn’t have much, but she did have taste. Even on her two dimes, our place looked classier than this.
Vicki appeared by my dad’s side, and he wrapped his arm around her. Her bleached hair was still the same, and her animal print dress matched the throw blanket. She was all smiles, but the way her eyes were gliding over me made me squirm. “You’ve grown up. Both of you.”
Annie slipped her hand into mine, giving it a squeeze. I looked down at her, seeing faith in her eyes. Faith that I could do this. Faith that things would be alright. I needed to believe, too.
“You must be hungry,” Vicki said. “I’ve heard that about teenage boys. If they’re not sleeping, then they’re eating.”
I didn’t even answer her. Annie looked up at me, silently asking if I was hungry. I just shook my head, unsure if I’d ever feel anything again.
Vicki gave my dad an annoyed look. “Pierce,” he said, “we are all sad about what happened to your mother. She was . . .”
Annie must’ve felt the anger in my body because she put her hand on my chest. “Pierce’s room? I’m sure he’d like to see his room.”
“Yes,” Vicki said. “I thought the room over the garage would be best. It’s big and separate from the rest of the house. I thought it was important you have some privacy.”
We headed that way, and I mumbled to Annie, “She read that in her teenage boy manual, too.”
We followed them up a flight of stairs to a single door. My dad walked inside. Vicki was telling the truth. The room was big, set up with a bed, desk, chair, and dresser. “We’ll get a TV and game system in here soon,” my dad said.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, looking around. “You said you got my stuff?” He pointed to a corner of the room, a couple boxes stacked there. I walked over, seeing Annie’s handwriting on the boxes. She’d labeled them all for me. “These are just the ones from my room.”
“We couldn’t bring everything,” he said, giving a side glance to Vicki. What he meant was, Vicki wouldn’t let him bring my mother’s stuff into her house. “We’ll just let you get settled,” he said, placing his hand on Vicki’s back and leading her out.
“Don’t worry,” Annie said. “I’ll get your mom’s stuff.”
But she didn’t. It was all gone when she got back to my old house. I never knew if it was the landlord who threw it out, or if that was on my dad’s and Vicki’s heads. Either way, every piece I had of my mother was gone.