Page 45 of Townshipped
I pick up my phone and press the speaker button while steering with the other hand. Glancing down, I see the caller ID.
“Hey, Mom. We’re just driving back out to the farm. Em and I went to the Seed-N-Feed to pick up some supplies. You’re on speaker.”
“Hi, sweetie. Hi, Em. How far are you from the house? Can you pop in? Or do you need to get back right away.”
Mom’s voice sounds inviting and cheery, but I hear the strain. I look over at Em with my brows raised. She’s probably worn out after such an eventful trip into town. She shrugs as if to tell me she’s fine with whatever I decide. Then she looks off toward the horizon.
Em doesn’t have her own schedule or agenda, or anything to call her own for that matter. I wonder how that must feel. Complaining hasn’t been her style. Is she secretly processing more than she lets on?
“Yeah. We can pop by. We’re only a few minutes away,” I tell Mom.
I pull over onto the shoulder. After a car passes me, I do a U-turn. This two-lane country road with farms dotting the landscape delineates the neighborhoods from the outskirts of town. It’s a dividing line between my life growing up and the one I’m trying to make for myself as an adult.
We pull up in front of my parents’ house and Em hops out of the truck like she’s been here a hundred times. Mom steps onto the porch and walks down to greet us.
“Em! So good to see you again. I’ve been meaning to drive out and pick you up so we could spend some time together, but things have been busy with a new grandbaby and my commitments around town.”
“You don’t need to explain,” Em says.
They walk toward one another, and my mom pulls Em into a hug. The sight of them holding one another makes me pause. I haven’t brought a woman around my mom since Milly.
They pull apart, smiling at one another.
“It’s almost nice enough weather to sit out on the porch, but not quite,” Mom says as she leads the way back inside. “Give us a month and it’ll be too rainy to sit out here. Then, it’ll be too hot. Isn’t that the way?”
She keeps chatting as the three of us walk toward the kitchen. “Would you like iced tea, hot tea, or water?”
We both accept waters and I notice the furrow in Mom’s brow as she pours our drinks.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
I point to a stool at the island, silently inviting Em to sit. I take the one next to her.
“I’m doing fine. It’s your cousin.”
“What happened now?”
I hate the tone in my voice—exasperation tinged with bitterness. Knowing Vanessa abandoned her own children last weekend has been on the backburner of my mind ever since Mom told me.
“Deb called this morning. Vanessa and that man got into an accident. She’s in the hospital in East Lansing.”
Mom looks up at me, the furrow between her eyebrows has morphed into four ridges. Her face draws up and her lips pinch. Tears gather in the corners of her eyes, and she lets a few flow without wiping at them.
“Do you need me to give you some privacy?” Em asks, glancing between the two of us.
Mom looks at Em like she just asked if we could all join a nudist colony. Privacy isn’t really a thing around here.
I’m surprised someone at the Seed-N-Feed hadn’t already mentioned my cousin. Not that my mom’s talking about her outside the family, but news has a way of getting out and around like steam escaping a kettle.
“No, dear. It’s fine.”
“How bad is it?” I ask Mom.
“She’s in the ICU. The kids are still with Mark and Deb. He took a few days off work so he can tote them to and from school and daycare while Deb stays at the hospital. Drunk driving. That was the cause.”
I shake my head. My aunt and uncle had Vanessa later in life. They aren’t young. Last year Aunt Deb got a lupus diagnosis. She barely has the energy to make it through her daily responsibilities, let alone take on full-time care for Vanessa’s children.
My wheels spin. What can I do from here? Nothing. And that’s killing me.
