Chapter 17: What Am I Doing?

I glance over just before unlocking my front door and see that he's already back in his car, looking up at me. When our eyes catch he smiles and it's pretty clear he's waiting to make sure I'm safely inside before he leaves. I have to catch my breath. Nobody has cared enough about me to make sure I get into a building safely. He-this-scares the crap out of me. I have no idea where it's going. Hell, I'm not even sure this is a good idea, but spending time with him is starting to blur my own judgment. I smile and shoot him a quick wave and he nods as I pull the door behind me.

I'm in trouble.

The familiar stench of cigarette smoke yanks me back into reality. I can't stand it and jog over to the window, pulling the curtains aside as I push the frame all the way up. Instantly, a cool breeze flows in, hitting my face. I'm grateful for fresh air-part of me feels like I should sit right here until Mom gets home and complains that it's cold. I'm pretty sure she's never even considered cracking a window, let alone smoking outside. And I don't dare suggest it. Mom doesn't like being questioned; it might make her look bad. Even to herself.

I trip on a pair of jeans as I reach for my backpack. The room is a total pigsty. It's a miracle I made it all the way from the door to the window without falling all over myself. I don't remember it looking this bad this morning. When Mom is stressed, she thinks the living room is her closet and personal trashcan. It's amazing how quickly she can destroy a room and if I don't clean it up, it'll only get worse. So I begin picking up the random clothes, shoes, and newspapers-you name it, her crap is scattered everywhere.

I don't mind this new chore. Cleaning allows me to think but still feel like I'm accomplishing something at the same time. Already, my thoughts are racing from one subject to another. Brad pops in first. It feels like my heart can't understand why my mind keeps trying to push him away. I'm torn with what to do with him and I'm nervous all over again. Seconds later, my mind shifts to the old, mysterious house. A place where I lost hours of my life and I can't explain why. The not knowing why part intrigues yet terrifies the hell out of me and my stomach twists the new knots starting to form a little tighter. I need to go back to that house. I need to get to the bottom of what happened one way or another.

Stuffing the last of the cigarette butts and old newspapers in a used grocery bag, I heave a satisfied sigh. The room looks and smells a ton better. I close the window and fix the curtains because the wind is getting stronger. I take a moment to stare out, watching the trees sway in the breeze.

"Someone died there. I think it was the son."

Suddenly, I want to know everything because I still feel a strong, strange connection to it and I have no clue why. There has to be a logical explanation. It's been in the back of my mind all day, never leaving my thoughts entirely. The house made me feel welcome, like it knew what I needed at the precise moment, melting all my anxiety away. It's as if it has a conscience and that's impossible.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will go back and come hell or high water, I will have the answers.

**

By the time Mom comes home, everything is spotless and dinner is ready. My attempt at softening her up has a fifty-fifty chance if she remembers our fight. The planets must have aligned or Jesus had some extra mercy to give because she's actually in a good mood for once.

To be safe, I better keep my guard up just in case.

The responsible party for Mom's temporary happiness is some guy named Tom who also happens to be a big tipper. Apparently, right after Mom started her new waitressing job he became one of her regulars and "totally digs" her first name. Especially the way she spells Daisee with a double E because "it's just about the cutest thing he's ever seen."

Barf.

I can't help my mental eye roll because I have no doubt he's just trying to get in her pants. It's almost comical that she can't see through his money and compliments. I hope by some miracle he ends up being a good guy because when Mom falls for someone, she falls hard. And if it goes south like it usually does, I become her target. With any luck, this new guy will keep her occupied, even if it's for a little while. All I need is enough time to investigate what the hell is going on with that house.

Mom sits down on the sofa, looking around as if suddenly noticing how clean the apartment is.

"Looks nice in here." She smiles at me for the first time in a while. It's about the closest thing she'll come to saying thank you, and that's okay. She hasn't learned she can no longer hurt me on the inside.

"I made some rice and beans," I say, walking back from the kitchen, handing her a full bowl with a spoon. I'll do anything tonight to keep the peace while she seems willing to be pleasant.

I sit across from her and watcher as she devours the food. "Glad your job is working out." I smile, hoping to get more information out of her. It's always good to know what your nemesis is up to.

She looks up at me with her mouth half full. "Yeah, it's going okay." She swallows before finishing her thought. "Tom thinks I should get a job somewhere else that pays more money." She gets up and walks to the kitchen, placing her bowl in the sink.

I'm immediately astonished.

"Are you going to start looking again?" I ask, hoping she's not already thinking of bailing on this place, too.

"Nah, I like it there." She lights a cigarette. "And the manager thinks I can take over his job with some training."

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until she finished. "Oh, is he leaving?"

"Maybe. He's not sure yet." She takes another puff. "His wife wants to move back to Dallas, where they're from."

Smoke billows out of her nose, making slow, swirly loops around her face. The ridiculous bird clock chirps eight times. Mom looks over at it and her eyes go wide, as if doubting the Eastern Bluebird's song.

"Shit, I gotta get ready!" Taking one last puff of her cigarette, she smashes it into a freshly cleaned ashtray before grabbing her purse and rushing up the stairs. Her bedroom door slams behind her.

I haven't seen her in such a hurry in a while and I'm pretty surprised she wasn't out of breath. It's amazing how the attention of a new man can totally change her attitude. Even if he gives her crumbs, she'll be happier with a man in her life. As long as she thinks she's not alone (I hardly count), Mom's an entirely different person.