Page 21 of As a Last Resort
“Happy birthday to you!”She wore a pointy birthday hat and blew a tiny paper horn into the phone.“I remember the day you came into this world, screaming your head off and red as a tomato.You weresopissed off.”
Her words had that slight, familiar slur.Not noticeable if you weren’t looking for it.“Right.But, Mom—”
“You didn’t calm down until your father grabbed you from that nurse and started singing to you.”
My chest squeezed at the mention of Dad.
“Mom, it’s not my birthday.”
“Of course it’s your birthday.It’s the sixteenth.You think I’d forget one of the most important days of my life?”
“My birthday’s the sixteenth… of next month.”
She stilled for barely a second.“Well, there’s absolutely nothing wrong in celebrating a little bit early, now, is there?If your father hadn’t left, we’d be celebrating at Charley’s tonight like we used to.”
“He didn’t leave, Mom.He died.”
“Well, he’s not here regardless.It’s the same.”
“There’s actually a pretty big difference, technically speaking.”
“Well, we’ll agree to disagree on that one.”
“Have you been drinking today?”
Her face pinched.“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”She dismissed the subject like we were talking about the weather.
The intercom screeched from above with boarding announcements.
“Where are you?”she asked.“It’s so loud.”
I was still on the fence about telling her I was coming back, but there was no way I could avoid her for a month.It was an impossible feat in such a small town, even if I was staying at a hotel.I’d have to tell her I was coming.But I was thankful for the small things, like not having to sleep in a house that most likely looks exactly the same as it did seven years ago: boy band posters half torn off my bedroom wall, a My Little Pony collection cluttered on the dresser, and a house void of pictures of a father who was taken away too soon.
I took a deep breath.Half-truth time.“I’m actually at the airport now.I have a quick work trip, then I’m actually going to be heading to the island for a little while to scout out a new potential location for work.I’ll let you know when I’m in town, okay?”
“Wait, what?My baby’s coming home?!”she shouted.
“Hey, my flight is boarding.I’ll call you in a few days!”I hung up quickly and leaned against the waiting area wall.
Drinking was back on the table for her.Clearly.
Granted it was after noon, and I myself was already down a drink (or two), but a birthday month swap was a pretty big oops.And it wasn’t like she was having another pivotal life-changing moment plummeting her into the depths of forgetfulness.
It always got worse around holidays, birthdays, or Sundays in general.When she was good and sloshed, she brought up Dad, which tore open a wound decades deep every single time.She still carried around resentment for his illness and the swift change it made to our lives.She lived by herself, and for the last seven years the buffer of distance stood between us.But I was on my way to being up front and center with the chaos.
I needed to build the cement walls back up in my mind protecting myself from the wreckage that was my mother.
“Now boarding flight 1752 to Fort Myers, Florida,” the intercom screamed.
Well.Here we go.
6
AUSTIN
Monday was busier than usual.
Over the last few years, there had been a steady increase in the number of tourists coming to visit, even in the later summer months when your shirt would stick to your back if you just dared to think of going outdoors.
