Page 75 of Living with Death

The only thing I can do is give her what she’s asked for––time alone, even if that means my time is running out.

Chapter Twenty- Five

When I arrive at my house, my mother is inside, and Sam is still sitting in the wicker chair.

“I’m so sorry,” she says as I hit the top step, my boots thumping loudly against the porch. She embraces me, and I hug her back, my breathing heavy from walking back. Tears stain my face as I hold on to her. She smells of flowers and hairspray, wearing a glittery gold sweater and navy jeans.

“Thank you,” I say, pulling away and wiping my face again.

“Is there anything I can get you?” she asks.

I shake my head, releasing a rush of air, making my chest feel lighter for only a moment before the weight of grief crashes into me again. I look to the door, knowing I must go inside and talk to my mother. “So, you’ve met my mom.”

Sam’s brow lifts. The sun catches her sparkly eyeshadow and causes the gold flecks in her brown eyes to brighten. “I did.”

I wince. “How’d that go?”

She leans against the column of the porch. “Besides the fact she knew nothing about me, it went terribly.”

“I’m sorry. She’s difficult.” I exhale. “Our relationship is strained. I try not to share personal things with my mother.”

Sam nods. “That’s why she doesn’t know anything about me.” She toes a rock, kicking it off the porch. “You didn’t tell me she was rich.”

“She’s well-off.”

“Honey, those shoes alone tell me she’s better than well-off. Her outfit costs more than a year’s worth of rent.”

I run a hand through my hair, looking out at the morning dew still lingering in the trees. “I know.”

“So you come from money?”

I sit, my eyes going to the boards of the porch. “Yes. My father’s parents have old money.” I grew up spending more time with them than with Grams and Grandpops. I was forced to attend all the lavish parties, wearing expensive gowns and hanging out with kids who spent their summers on a yacht in the Maldives and Christmas in Aspen.

My grandmother and grandfather were nice enough, but as soon as my father died, I didn’t see too much of them. I tried to separate myself from that lifestyle, and my mother seemed to let me the older I got. I found peace at Grams and Grandpop's house. Freedom to be me. No one forced me to pretend here.

She shakes her head. “Why would you keep that a secret?”

“I didn’t want you to think differently of me.”

She appears hurt. “I wouldn’t.”

I incline my head, sliding my hands into my coat pockets. I don’t believe her. I know first-hand how money changes people. The ones who have it treat people who don’t as if they’re below them. Most anyway. And the ones who aren’t as fortunate seem to put wealthy people on a pedestal. It’s ridiculous.

She sighs. “Okay, maybe a little, but why are you working at Grab & Go?”

I lift a shoulder. “I like it.”

Skepticism shows on her pretty face. “Mabel, no one works at a grocery store because they like it. They do so because it’s all they have.”

I nod. “I do enjoy it, though.”

She narrows her eyes. “Sure,” she says. She looks toward the house. “Just like you’ve been remodeling this house for years.”

Shame washes over me. Whenever Sam has asked me to go out, my excuse is that I have books to read and this house to remodel. When truthfully, I haven’t so much as lifted a paintbrush.

“You never needed to lie to me.”

I rest my elbows on my knees, dragging my fingers through my hair. I have no idea what to say. I’m a terrible person and an even worse friend. Why does last night feel so far away now?

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