Page 11 of Save Me
At sixty-eight, she’s still in great shape, walking daily with her friends, and keeping a crazy schedule with her children and grandchildren. My mom is truly the backbone of this family. Shecomes running, launching herself at me. I catch her easily in my arms, closing them around her waist, lifting her up.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she grins, kissing me on the cheek.
She acts like it’s been months, but I was here just last week. It’s nice to know she misses me.
“You’re always glad to see me, and I see you more than the rest of your no-good kids,” I tease her.
“It’s true; you’re the only one who answers my phone calls all the time.”
Glancing around at the four siblings sitting in the living room. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves.”
“We have lives to lead,” my sister, Trish, argues. “You know some of us are single mothers.”
I know they are, which is why I’m going to quiz my sister about what she’s looking for in a man before I leave here today. I’m very worried that I came on way too strong with Amy. “Excuses, excuses.”
She huffs, which I knew she would. I live to rile her up, and I think she likes for me to. Takes her mind off everything she’s dealing with since her husband left.
“You need help in the kitchen, Mom?”
Back when I lived here full-time, it was always my job to help her. Which is why at the station, I don’t mind having cooking duty. Cooking for this many people is like doing it for the guys. It gives me a slight wave of nostalgia too, reminding me of being a kid in the kitchen with my mom.
“I’ll never turn down your help.” She grabs my arm, dragging me into the kitchen behind her.
If someone asked me, I would deny it, but this is probably where I’m most comfortable. In her kitchen, surrounded by all the memories of my childhood. Being the youngest meant I was here a lot; feeding nine people takes a lot of time and a lot of stretching of ingredients. Another reason why I’m such a goodperson to have in the kitchen at the station. I spent countless hours here during the school year, during the summer, until it was just me. Then Trish too, when she got divorced and had to move home.
“You look tired,” Mom comments as she hands me a bowl of icing and a cake that’s been properly cooled.
Nodding, I can’t help the yawn that breaks between my lips. I’ve been up for a little over twenty-four hours right now. Even the coffee I had prior to coming here isn’t helping much. “Just got off shift. It was busy.”
“I heard there was a fire down at the boardwalk,” she comments, her eyes coming up to meet mine. “Word has it, it was set on purpose.”
Everybody in this town is always looking for something to speculate on—the danger of living in a small town that only gets interesting when it comes to tourist season.
“If you call the waiter for the Dairy Dip illegally smoking on the boardwalk purposely setting it, then yeah, it was.”
She looks shocked.
“Gunner, he’s a teenager. He shouldn’t be smoking anyway.”
Little does she know half her kids smoked or at least tried a cigarette before their fifteenth birthday. “That and the fine he received will have to be something he takes up with his parents.”
“If any of you had done that at his age, I would have busted your asses.”
A grin tilts on my mouth. I so badly want to tell her we had, but we hadn’t gotten caught. It seems like saying that would put me playing with fire too, though, and I’m too tired to get a verbal dressing-down from my mom today.
“Get everybody in here,” she says as I finish the icing. “It’s time to eat.”
“Where have you been lately?” Trish asks as we sit in the backyard watching the kids make S’mores.
“Been busy. Working some overtime.” I stretch my arms out wide along the backside of the outdoor couch I’m sitting on. It feels good to spread out and not have to worry about someone else my size sitting down next to me.
“Is there any way you can come look at a leak I have in my kitchen sink?” she asks slowly. “I know you’re not a repairman, but I just don’t have the extra funds for it right now,” she whispers, wringing her hands together.
Which means her piece-of-shit ex-husband isn’t paying the child support he’s supposed to. I wonder if Amy goes through this.
“Yeah, no problem. I’m off tomorrow. Might be easier for me to get there before you get off work because I have some shit to do, but I’ll just let myself in and take a look, if it’s cool with you.”
She leans her head against my shoulder. “Thanks, Chicken Butt.”
