Page 8 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow
As her mind wanders, my trick for communicating is to imagine if the situation were reversed, and Mom kept insisting it was a different year or she was a different person. I would find it funny at first, but eventually I’d get angry.
“Do I smell cinnamon rolls?” I ask.
Mom sighs as she sits across from me. “They’re as bad as your brother, always bringing me treats.”
I tense. By Gail’s “brother,” she means my dad, who always brought us both treats, and Mom always teasingly scolded him until I offered to eat hers, too.
“It’s a lovely day,” I say. “Maybe we could go for a walk along the river?”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s safe,” Mom says. “You never know what’s in the water.” She folds her hands in her lap. “Those cinnamon buns smell like they’re almost done.”
I smile. “Sure, we’ll wait for your cinnamon bun, Mo—Veronica.”
She leans forward, as if someone might be listening. “Have you seen Sam lately? I know she’s busy, but she never comes to see me anymore.”
“I was here yester—” Deep breath, even as my hands shake. “She’ll be here soon.”
Mom’s hands twist in her lap. “I think she’s still angry with me.”
My eyes fill. “No. She’s not angry with you. If she ever was, she didn’t mean it.”
Mom nods, gaze down.
“Really. Sam loves you so much. She’ll be here tomorrow. I’m sure of it.”
“I hope so,” Mom says, in a tiny voice that breaks me in two.
An hour later, I’m hurrying out of the building, trying not to cry, when someone hails me. I turn to see the administrator bearing down.
“Ms. Payne,” he says, panting slightly as he catches up. “We need to discuss your account.”
I raise a hand. “I know. I’m behind on the latest payment—”
“You are two payments behind. It is the sixteenth. August’s payment was due yesterday.”
“I’ll have July’s payment on Friday.”
“And August?”
“I… I’m speaking to my mother’s insurance company next week. They promised to cover part of her stay, and they’re dragging their heels.”
“I understand, but you need to pursue that separately. We have bills to pay, too, Ms. Payne. If you cannot catch up by next week, you will need to make other arrangements for your mother.”
I open my mouth, but he’s already striding back into the building.
I stand there, staring at the door as it closes behind him. I’m not sure whether I want to scream or cry. Both. At once. I want to rageagainst the world that did this to my mother. That put her through that hell with my dad and then took away her mind.
Ten million dollars,a voice whispers in my head.
I swallow hard.
I keep saying I’d do anything for my mother. I gave up on med school for her. I left a good job for her. I moved back to Syracuse for her. I let my cat die for her.
Maybe I should be raging at the world that keeps demanding more sacrifices from me, but every time I feel that, I think of my mother, andhersacrifices, what she endured and keeps enduring.
I say I would do anything, but I won’t spend a month at Paynes Hollow? I’m not being asked to sacrifice a limb. It’s a month in a cottage on a private beach, for fuck’s sake.
The world that keeps demanding more has finally offered something in return. Compensation beyond my wildest imaginings. Enough money that I could write a single check to cover Mom’s stay for the rest of her life. Enough money to keep her on that trial and buy every medication she needs. Enough to get her the best help—private nurses, dedicated caretakers, anything she might need as she deteriorates.
