Page 13 of Room for Us

An alarm bell rings in my head. Ignoring it, I force a laugh. “Don’t be silly, Mom. You being a psychologist had nothing to do with me marrying the first asshole who asked.”

As soon as I finish, I realize my error.

Then she confirms it. “I meant the way I handled things after your father.”

My face freezes in a grimace.

We don’t talk about Zander’s and my sperm donor. It’s an unspoken rule in the family. Even Aunt B never mentioned her younger brother; in my hearing, at least. Rumor has it she burned every photograph of him and hired a witch to curse him, although knowing Aunt B she probably started that rumor herself. Upright Christian woman or not, she did love adding to her own mystique.

I know my father’s name, of course. Robert Kemper. I know his height—six-three. I know he had brown eyes and light olive skin, like me. And I know that when I was ten and Zander was barely a year old, one Sunday morning I woke up and our dad was gone.

Just gone.

I don’t know what’s changed for my mom, but if she weren’t drunk at the moment I might be pissed. Like I don’t have enough going on right now? Do I really need more than one ghost in my life?

Anxiety starts a preemptive party in my chest. My mom stares at me, eyes a little glazed, waiting for me to react. Emote. Be honest. Real. Exhibit some rational response.

My gaze bounces between the empty champagne bottle and my empty glass. I jump to my feet.

“I’m parched. I’ll get us some water.”

Her sigh follows me from the room. In the kitchen, I chug water straight from the faucet, letting it spill over my flushed face. It feels so good I consider putting my head under the flow, but I’m sane enough to recognize a crazy thought. So at least I have that going for me.

When I’m sure I won’t lose my shit at the slightest provocation, I fill a glass for her and head back into the living room. I walk slowly, giving myself an extra minute to avoid the conversation my mom seems intent on having almost twenty years after the fact.

But as I round the couch, I see her listing to one side, her eyes closed. A moment later come delicate, boozy snores.

Oh, sweet relief.

I set the glass of water on the coffee table so she can reach it when she wakes, then ease her onto her side, lift her legs onto the cushions, and pull an afghan over her body. Awake, my mom is a hummingbird. Always in motion. Asleep, I notice what perpetual motion disguises—circles under her eyes, lines of grief etched in her forehead.

“She needs you.”

Aunt B’s voice comes from somewhere over my right shoulder. I’m so used to her invasion of my life and sanity by now, I don’t jump. But I still glance back, searching the room like she’ll walk into it any moment, trailing her signature floral fragrance and the latest town gossip.

“She has me,” I whisper.

“Does she, Zoey? Does anyone have you?”

“One shrink in the family is enough, thank you.”

I give my mom a quick kiss on the forehead and head upstairs, turning off lights as I go. Since these are my last few nights in the spacious Rose Room before the mysterious Mr. Hart arrives, I plan on making the most of it with nightly soaks in the big, claw-foot tub and sleeping buck naked.

“Don’t forget to wash the sheets before he gets here.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Serious as my heart attack.”

“Death jokes? Really? Not funny, Aunt B. And of course I’m going to wash the sheets.”

“Pfft, I’m allowed to mock my own death. Speaking of death, did I ever tell you about your great-grandma, Rosie Kemper?”

Flipping on lights in the bedroom, I head for the adjoining bath. “Only a million times. She was the town’s first self-proclaimed feminist, a sexpot, and never married. She took over the inn when her parents died and renamed it after herself. Made a bunch of money and left the place to her niece, your mom, on the stipulation that when she married, her husband take the Kemper name.”

“But did I tell you about what happened in years before Rosie died? How she met—”

I crank on the bathtub faucet. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Do you have an OFF switch? I’d really like to relax.”

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