Chapter Four
West
Time for me to make my escape. Nina might be cute and funny, but she was oddly confrontational. I didn’t need that in my life. I didn’t need her judging me, or her crazy dog barking at me.
There was a reason Gidget didn’t like me. She saw what I did late at night in the backyard. Thank God dogs couldn’t talk, or I’d be in a world of trouble. Sometimes, you had to take things into your own hands, but I wasn’t sure the fire department or my father would see it that way.
My cell buzzed with a text. It was my dad. Great. He was working late and wanted me to make sure to fix dinner for my mom. I glanced at the boxes of fried rice. “Since you have so much, I’m going to take an extra box for my mom.”
“You have a mom?”
“Everyone has a mom,” I said.
“Touché.” She nodded like she was awarding me a point. “What I meant was I didn’t know your mom lived with you. I’ve never seen her.”
Time to spin my well-practiced web of lies. “She doesn’t leave the house much.”
“Why not?”
“She’s sick, and I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Oh.” Her demeanor changed from captain of the debate team to a concerned, normal person. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No.”
“I could bring her some books,” Nina said.
Like I’d said earlier, nothing was ever simple. I pulled out the line that usually made people uncomfortable enough to back off. “The doctors say it’s best to keep visitors and outside items to a minimum due to her condition.”
Nina reached over and put her hand on my forearm. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.” I stood, intent on avoiding any more questions, but I needed to make sure she wouldn’t just pop over. “What’s your number?”
She rattled off her cell number. I dialed it to make sure she’d have my number in her phone. “If, for some random reason you want to get ahold of me, like if you come to your senses and realize we aren’t going to the dance, text or call. Don’t come over to my house and knock, ever, because you might wake up my mom.”
“Is that why your dad wants us to put the rent check in that weird mailbox on the shed?”
“That, plus he’s antisocial.” No reason to lie about that. They’d met the man.
“Okay, then. I’ll go with the not-waking-your-mom-up reason because that makes a lot more sense. There’s one more thing before you go.” She held her arms out. “You’re getting a hug whether you want one or not.”
Not happening. I tried to walk around her. “That’s not necessary.”
She blocked my path. “If you argue, I’ll call my mom in here and she’ll insist on hugging you, too. We’re a hugging family. It’s what we do.”
“You can’t argue with someone and then hug them.”
“Yes, I can.”
She didn’t seem to be backing down. “I don’t need or want a hug.”
“Right. Your dad acts like former military, and you just told me your mom was ill.”
She stood there holding her arms out.
“Don’t you have to get to the bookstore?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve done this before.” She moved in and put her arms around me, squeezing me tight. And she wasn’t trying to put a move on me, which was mildly insulting.
“I won’t stop hugging until you hug me back,” she warned.
“You’re one of the strangest people I’ve ever met.” I hugged her back, which wasn’t a hardship. After all, she was soft and warm and smelled nice.
After a few seconds, she released me and stepped away. “I prefer to think of myself as interesting. Don’t forget your rice.”
No way was I letting her get the last word in. “Why did your mom buy so much food? And why just shrimp fried rice? Most people buy a variety.”
“No matter what else she buys we fight over the shrimp fried rice, so that’s all she bothers with now. And she overbuys because she likes to feed people. It’s a nurturing thing.”
“I guess that goes along with hugging?” I said. “Does she like to argue with people, too?”
“No, but anyone who walks in the door will more than likely be fed and hugged. So, fair warning.”
There were worse things in the world. “Maybe you should have that printed on a welcome mat so people won’t be surprised.” I grabbed the cartons of rice, and that’s when I noticed Gidget lying by the front door. “Your dog isn’t giving me the evil eye anymore.”
“She saw that I trusted you, so now she probably trusts you, too.”
“Okay. This has been interesting. We’re not going to the dance, and I’ll see you later.”
She laughed. “Yes, you’re wrong, and of course we will because we live next door to each other.”
Nina followed me to the front door and closed it behind me.
What a bizarre day. I crossed over the shared driveway through the yard to my front door. I opened it with my key, being careful not to swing the door too wide, so I wouldn’t knock anything over. After making sure it was locked behind me, I walked down the narrow path between the boxes my mother had filled and stacked floor to ceiling in the entryway and the living room. You couldn’t even see the furniture anymore because it was buried under all the boxes. Even though my father had insisted on putting everything in Rubbermaid containers, the smell of mildew and dust permeated the air.
Once I hit the hallway to the kitchen, the smell faded but didn’t completely go away. I opened the window above the sink and turned on the small desk fan that sat in front of it to encourage air movement.
Our kitchen still looked fairly normal since my dad refused to let my mom bring anything into it because of the possible fire hazard. I dumped rice into a bowl for my mom and set it on the table. Then I grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and drank half of it. Okay. I can do this. Steeling myself, I entered the hallway that led to her bedroom and wedged myself through the slender opening, which was all that was left of her doorway. “Hello, Mom.”
She smiled at me like all was right in her world. Like she wasn’t sitting on a pile of twisted-up bed sheets surrounded by storage tubs stacked one on top of another, lining the walls and taking up most of the rest of the room except for a small perimeter around the bed and closet. “Hello, sweetie. How was your day?”
“Good. I brought you some shrimp fried rice for dinner. It’s in the kitchen.”
“Oh.” She played with the edge of the frayed blanket in her lap. “Can’t you just bring it in here?”
“No.” I’d learned not to argue. “It’s waiting for you on the table.”
She stood, hugging a pillow to her chest. “Can I take one pillow?”
“Sure, Mom.” I backed out, turned around, and was relieved when I heard her following after me. We sat at the glass-top table, and I braced myself in preparation for the awkward small talk I felt obligated to make.
“I saw you, out the window,” my mom said.
That was new. “What did you see?”
“You were talking to the daughter of the renter next door.” She pointed toward their house like I wouldn’t know who she was referring to.
“Her name is Nina.”
“Do you like her?” my mom asked.
“Her family is odd.” I laughed. “Just a different kind of odd from ours.”
She reached across the table and laid her hand on top of mine, giving it a quick squeeze. “I know your dad seems rigid in his beliefs sometimes, but he always has your best interests at heart.”
My father. Right. He’s the problem. “I know.”
She ate a few bites of rice. “I’d like to meet Nina. You should invite her over for dinner one night.”
Not going to happen for the obvious reasons. Plus, she’d probably start an argument and then insist on hugging everyone. “Dad wouldn’t like that.”
“I know the house is a bit of a mess.” She pushed her hair behind her ear, like she was suddenly self-conscious of her appearance. “I guess we could straighten up a little bit.”
With a backhoe and Dumpster, maybe. “Let’s put that plan on hold until I decide if I even like her, okay?”