Page 11 of Resurrect Me

“Listen here, mother fucker. I will kill you if you come in my house again,” she texts rapidly. There’s fury pouring from her words. Not exactly the reply I was expecting.

I squint and read her message again. Did someone come into my house? I start typing out this exact question but pause before I hit send. She’ll know it’s me. I have to play this cool. Although inside I’m ready to go on a killing spree thinking that someone broke into my home and threatened my family’s lives.

Instead, I type out, “what happened last night, Tacy? Who came into the house?” then hit send.

She reads the text and responds within seconds.

“You did, you psychopath!” I can almost hear her screaming at me. I always hated when Tacy was mad. She’d go from sweet Princess Tacy to angry feral Tacy in seconds, and sometimes I had no idea what set her off.

“I didn’t come into the house. It wasn’t me.”

“I don’t believe you. What do you want from me? Please just leave my family alone.”

I really must be careful here, even though I wish I could just jump in my car and speed over there. Pull her in my arms andtell her everything is going to be all right. That I’m protecting her, and I won’t let anyone ever come near her or the kids again.

“You don’t have to believe me. But you should trust me. It wasn’t me in the house last night. If I came into the house, you’d be the first to know.”

Another painful pause.

“Who is this?”

“I can’t tell you. Yet.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“You need to install cameras and an alarm.”

“What?”

“Security. You need an alarm system at the very least. To deter people.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“The sooner the better.”

Tacy

This whole time I’ve been thinking this mysterious texter had broken into my home. But if that was true, he wouldn’t have said he didn’t break in last night when the incident was in the middle of the day. And why would he encourage me to install an alarm? Was this a part of his sick game or am I going crazy?

I’ve scheduled a company to come out and install cameras and an alarm this week. I’m not fucking around with my family’s safety anymore. The break-in has me feeling vulnerable. Weak. And I’m unable to protect my own children. So…no more.

I just worked a thirteen-hour shift and make it home with a box of pizza just as the sun goes down. My mother and her elderly boyfriend have been staying with us since the incident two days ago. It sounds sweet but trust me. It’s anything but. I should be appreciative of her help with the kids, but it just feels intrusive. But maybe that’s because my house was just broken in and now, I have people invading my space that aren’t typically the do-gooder type. My mother acts like she cares, attending charity events and donating hundreds of thousands to various non-profits, but in the end…she only ever cares about herself. And the money she inherited from her rich parents.

Everyone chows down on the pepperoni and olive pie and mom surprisingly helps me put the kids to bed.

I crash on my couch, prop my feet up on the coffee table, and watch as my mother flips back and forth between the home improvement and cooking channels. Although, I’m not sure why. She never was a great decorator…or cook, for that matter. Growing up, my mother spent all her time at the country club. The woman had a glass of wine in her hands by ten in the morning, and hardly ever wielded a spatula. Still, it seems she’s trying to do better. I should give her a chance.

“Thanks for the pizza, Tace,” she says and sips from her wine glass.

“No problem,” I say. “Hey, just so you know, I have the alarm company coming out tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh, that’s a fabulous idea.” She sets her wine glass down and turns to me. “Did the police figure out who broke in?”

I shush her gently. “I just don’t want the kids to hear any more about it. They’ve been through enough this year.”

She nods and pretends to zip her lips and throw away the key.

“No, they haven’t. It’s like they don’t care,” I whisper. “They didn’t even take fingerprints, Mom.”

---