Page 4 of The Man in Mom's Bed
He stands in the kitchen with his back to me, tight and rigid, like a man at war with himself. I’ve noticed whenever I enter a room lately, he makes distance between us. It’s like I’ve got an invisible force pushing him away.
The floor creaks under my foot, and he looks over, his fierce eyes burying deep into me. “You should be asleep.”
“So should you. You got home at midnight.”
“Overtime at work,” he replies.
Mom never believes his explanation about working extra hours, saving money, his plans to open his own garage. She sees the whole world through a warped lens of despair and failure and projects that on to everybody—even me.
But Cam is not lying. His hands are callused and rough, his knuckles split with dirt and grease embedded so deep beneath his nails that no amount of scrubbing can get rid of it. He needs a full manicure, but we all know that will never happen.
I saw his notebook in his back pocket once, filled with all kinds of numbers, plans, and calculations. A pad full of dreams, drawn by an ambitious man.
“Help yourself to coffee,” he says, turning away from me.
I don’t even like coffee, but I pour myself some, just to be close to him. I add a ton of sugar, causing him to shake his head.
“How long until you can open the garage?” I ask. He flinches.
“You and your mom been talking?”
“My mom doesn’t know anything about you,” I snap. “She thinks you’re just another loser. Don’t you see that?”
A hint of a smirk comes over his lips, causing me to warm inside. He turns slowly, and the full weight of his attention hits me like a hammer to the chest. In the dim, morning light slanting through the kitchen window, his eyes are dark and unreadable. But I can see something there, something animalistic, something focused.
“Maybe she’s right.”
“She’s not.” I shake my head, instantly embarrassed. I’m too emotional. Revealing too much. “You have plans.Goodplans. You’re not just a lazy mooch.”
“Lazy mooch?” He almost chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee. “Good plans don’t make a good man, Katie.”
The way he says my name makes my pulse pump hard. His throat flexes as he swallows like it was tough for him to say. Like he just gave confession. I take a step closer, expecting him to move back, but this time he doesn’t.
“Well, what makes a good man then?” I ask.
The kitchen suddenly feels small as his eyes focus on me, his jaw clenching like he’s chewing on his teeth. So many unspoken things conveyed. “Staying away from something he shouldnotwant.”
His words carry a force with them, like a wrecking ball threatening to smash the trailer into bits.
“But…what if the thing he wants doesn’t want him to stay away?”
Silence stretches taut like a piano wire, threatening to snap.
I see his hands gripping the counter edge, his knuckles white. There’s a battle playing out across his face. Has he been losing this battle since he first looked at me, or am I just imagining things…?
I remember the first time he gave methe look. Mom had passed out early with a glass of wine beside her, and I was reading on the couch. Cam had just come in from a late shift and he looked exhausted. But when our eyes met, it was like something fundamental shifted, like the entire foundation of the universe had moved.
Before I could speak, he shook his head and scolded me like a child. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, little girl.”
Little girl!?That’s what I wanted to say, but I stayed silent as he went into the back.
I do know what I’m getting into!
I’ve seen what happens to trailer park girls who aren’t careful. Pregnant at sixteen with some guy who doesn’t love them, trapped into aluminum boxes and abusive relationships for the rest of their lives—and that’s if they’re lucky enough to have a man who sticks with them. Lucky, I guess…
Sometimes I think about applying to college—study business or something that could take me away from here. But that requires money. Money I don’t have.
I’ve watched my mom cycle through men with a new one almost every season, each one taking a piece of her with them, until now she’s nothing more than red wine and bitterness.
