Page 4 of The Good Guy on My Porch

“Have you been to the doctor, lately? I just read about a woman who died suddenly from a tick bite. She hadn’t even known she’d been bitten. Do you check yourself for ticks, sweetie?”

I wished I could take away my mother’s television and Internet, but she never left the house, never spoke to anyone but me and my aunt. Taking away anything more seemed too cruel. “I’d have to go into the woods to pick up a tick, Mom. You know how I feel about going into the woods.”

“But you don’t have to go into the woods. You just have to walk through tall grass or…What if you picked one up on your shoe and carried it into your house? It could crawl around on your floor and get on the couch. You can never be too careful, and I have such a bad feeling today.”

I shuddered. I didn’t share my mother’s crippling anxiety, but she never failed to make me think about things I’d never have concerned myself with otherwise. It was hard not to get angry with her sometimes, but I reminded myself that she was sick. Sure, there was medicine that could make her better, medicine she refused to take, treatment plans she refused to try, but I tried not to get mad, not to resent her. A long time ago I’d figured out that I had two options, cut my mother out of my life altogether or accept she was never going to change, was never going to get better, and have the only kind of relationship with her I could. “I’ll check my shoes before I step inside. I promise.”

“And your socks. Ticks are tiny. They can hide anywhere.”

“And my socks.”

I paused in front of the stone, two-story library, my favorite place in the whole world. “I’ve got to get to work, Mom. I’ll call you on my lunch break.”

“Okay, Dilly. Just be careful. I have such a bad feeling today.”

“Watch Gilmore Girls, Mom. You know that always makes you feel better.”

“I don’t know, Dilly. I just saw this expose about electronics in the home and how they can poison our bodies with radioactive rays. The government can even use them to spy on us.”

“Mom.” I rubbed my temple. Someday I’d like to find every conspiracy theorist out there and beat the snot out of them. “You know I always get you the best quality products, right? I can guarantee your stuff is safe.”

“Okay, Dilly.” She gave in much easier than she usually did. “Maybe I will watch something uplifting. I do love Lorelei.”

“I know you do, Mom.” My throat tightened. Even after all these years, it still hurt to think of the woman my mother had once been. The free spirit sitting on the couch with me, watching Gilmore Girls while the scent of baking cookies filled the house. She’d never be that woman again and I needed to accept that. “I’ll call you on my lunch break.”

“Okay, Daffodil, have a good day.”

“You, too, Mom.”

I slid my phone back into my pocket, pulled in a few deep breaths, and stepped inside my happy place.

***

I sat in the comfy, over-sized chair in one of the library’s most homey, fun conference rooms and watched as the book club filed in. I had wanted to work in a library since I was old enough to get a library card and, after years of volunteering, getting my degree in library sciences, and working whatever job I could at the library, I finally had my dream job. I worked in outreach, primarily with seniors, organizing and running everything from book clubs to classes on computers and how to use e-readers. My job often necessitated that I go to one of three community centers or homes for seniors, but this particular group met at the library and, though I tried not to have favorites, they were my favorites.

Betty took the seat closest to me, her scowl ever present. She was a bit of a grump, but Norma Jane had finally convinced her to join the book club and she’d provided several fascinating insights about the books we read. She was a beautiful older woman, aging the way every woman hoped she would, with smooth, dark skin and perfectly coiffed hair.

“Good morning, Dilly,” Norma Jane said, strolling in all smiles, her slacks and button-down blouse more stylish than my own. She took a seat next to Betty.

“Morning, Norma Jane,” I said.

“Good morning, Betty,” Norma Jane said. “I hope you’re well.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Betty asked. “You still having trouble with your hip?”

Norma Jane’s smile slipped a bit and she glanced at me. “I woke up the other morning feeling a bit stiff.” She turned to Betty. “I’m much better.”

“You’re a stubborn old ass is what you are,” Betty said. “My grandson will see you and fix you right up, no charge.”

Norma Jane pursed her lips. “I don’t accept charity.”

“Stubborn ass,” Betty grumbled.

Liddy and Leah walked in together, already chatting, and greeted us all. Then, the last member of our group, and my landlady, Mary, walked in, her laser-focus aimed at me. Her gray hair was loose around her shoulders, so pretty and silvery, and she was dressed in a colorful maxi-skirt and a loose blouse, necklaces weighing her down. She was the quintessential flower child and one of the kindest people I knew. “Daffodil Thompkins, I never thought you’d be so rude and uncaring,” she said.

I stared. “What did I do?”

“What did you do?” Mary tossed her hands skyward as though looking for heavenly assistance. “Have you already forgotten about calling the police on your new neighbor? That sweet man. I can’t even imagine how upset he was to be accosted by the police like a common criminal.”

---