Page 74 of Without You

“I’m not the one stealing Cheetos from Albert’s grocery store,” I joke.

“My sins are not your sins, huh?”

“Something like that. When I was younger and realized what you were doing, I hated it. I realized it wasn’t a reflection on me, though.”

“How’d you get so smart?”

I grin and hug her once more. “Let’s get this washing machine fixed, shall we? I’ve got a date tonight and don’t wanna be late.”

“Oh, yeah? Who’s the lucky girl? Anyone I know?”

Ma and I talk for a while like a typical mother and son and I tell her all about Katie, our date, and how we knew each other long ago but only recently reconnected.

“I don’t remember her,” she admits.

I raise an eyebrow. “Why would you remember her? You weren’t really around, you know?”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” I grunt, tightening a bolt in the back side of the washer.

“I wasn’t a good mom.”

“You were who you could be,” I say as a non-answer.

We fall into silence for a few minutes and then…

“I hear you just built a big new shop.”

I side-eye her. “Yeah?”

“Well, what’s that for?”

Something tells me she knows exactly what the new shop’s for. I could pretend like I’m not on to her, but unlike her, I’m not a good liar.

All the good that she and I were experiencing earlier vanishes the second it clicks with me that she probably called me to come fix her washing machine solely to get more information about my contract and working with the production company.

“Are you really doing this right now?” I ask her.

“Doing what?”

“Oh, come on, Ma! I know you know about the contract so just tell me what you want so we can move on.”

“I don’t…” She stops talking when I give her a hard look. “I don’t…” She tries again then clears her throat. “You’re going to be meeting all those fancy singers, right?”

“Fancy singers? Ma, they’re country music singers. All I’m doing is customizing the vehicles that go in the videos. That’s it.”

“But you’ll be meeting them? And you signed that contract.”

“Yes. So tell me what you want.”

“I bet that will be so cool,” she says, trying to sound nonchalant but she fails miserably. “Meeting and working with them.” I know her and she might be ready to stop her petty thieving, but if she can manage to use me to get what she wants, she’ll do it.

“Mm hmm,” I say, putting the last of my tools in my toolbox and snapping it closed.

“I’d love to see where you’re working now.”

“Would you?”

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