The Air He Breathes
Page 46
She nodded. “Trust me. I did. One more thing as a thank you…” She hurried over to Elizabeth’s bedroom window and pounded on it. When Elizabeth opened the window, I couldn’t help but smile. She was always so beautiful. Always. “Hey, Liz?” Faye said, looking at her sleepy best friend.
“Yes?”
“Give this guy a blow job tonight as a ‘thank you’ from me.” She smiled, leaned in, and kissed Elizabeth’s cheek. “Night, babe.” With that, Faye hurried away, seeming much happier than when she’d been crying not too long before. Sometimes all a broken heart needed was a bag of shit and a little fire.
Elizabeth climbed out her window, walked over to me, and I wrapped her in a hug. “Did you do something good for my bestie tonight?” she asked.
“I think so.”
“Thank you.” She pulled me in closer and rested her head on my chest. “Babe?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s that smell?”
“Trust me…” I looked down at my socks, which had at one point been white, but were now semi-brown. “You don’t want to know.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Elizabeth
“Well, don’t just stand there staring at me. Aren’t you happy to see me?” Mama smiled, standing on my porch with a suitcase in her hand.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, confused. I glanced toward the BMW sitting in front of my house, wondering what in the world my mother had gotten herself involved with now—or more likely, who.
“What? Your mother can’t come visit? You haven’t been answering my calls, and I missed my daughter and granddaughter. Is that such a crime? You won’t even give me a hug hello!” She huffed.
I leaned in to hug her. “I’m just surprised to see you. Sorry I haven’t called, I’ve been busy.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is your forehead bleeding?”
I ran my fingers across my forehead and shrugged. “Ketchup.”
“Why is there ketchup on your forehead?”
“I WANT TO EAT YOUR BRAINNNNNS!” Tristan said, walking past the foyer as he chased after a zombified Emma with spaghetti noodles in his hands and ketchup dripping from his face.
Mama’s head tilted to the left and her stare followed Tristan. “I guess you have been busy.”
“It’s not what it looks like—” I started, but Emma cut me off.
“Grandma!” she screamed, running to the door and jumping into Mama’s arms.
“My little sweet pea,” Mama replied, wrapping Emma in her arms and getting covered in ketchup. “Well, aren’t you a messy thing today?”
“Mama, Tick, and I were playing zombie and vampires!”
“Tick?” Mama turned to me and raised an eyebrow. “You let a man named Tick into your house?”
“Are you really judging the type of men I let into my house? Do you not remember some of the men who walked into yours?”
She smiled wickedly. “Touché.”
“Tristan,” I called. He came over, rubbing his fingers through his ketchup-filled hair.
“Yeah?” He smiled my way before turning to look at Mama.
“This is my mother, Hannah. Mama, this is my neighbor, Tristan.”
His stare met mine, and I watched his lips turn down for a split second, almost as if he was disappointed in my word choice. Soon enough he was smiling and shaking Mama’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Hannah. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“That’s funny.” Mama nodded. “Because I haven’t heard a word about you.”
Silence.
Awkward silence.
“So, should I join you all in the awkward silence, or should I wait by the car?” a man joked, walking up the steps of the porch with a suitcase of his own. He wore glasses and a mustard button-down shirt tucked into dark jeans.
Mama must’ve been on a nerdy boyfriend kick. I wonder if he’s a wizard.
Silence.
Extremely awkward silence.
The man cleared his throat and held his hand out toward Tristan, probably because he noticed Tristan wasn’t giving him an intense look of confusion like I was. “I’m Mike.”
“Nice to meet you, Mike,” Tristan replied.
“What happened to Richard?” I whispered toward Mama.
“It didn’t work out,” she replied.
Shocking.
“So, Mike and I were hoping we could stay the night here. I mean, we could get a hotel room but…I thought it would be nice for us all to have a dinner together and hang out.”
“Mama, tonight is my birthday party. Emma is going over to Kathy and Lincoln’s place for the night.” I frowned. “You should’ve called.”
“You wouldn’t answer.” Her cheeks blushed over, and she fiddled with her fingers, almost as if she was embarrassed. “You wouldn’t answer, Liz.”
And just like that, I felt like the crappiest daughter ever. “We can still do dinner, though…I can cook your favorite meal if you want. And you can watch Emma. I can call and cancel the plans with Kathy.”
Her cheeks rose, and her smile stretched. “That would be wonderful! Tick—er—Tristan, you should join us for dinner.” Her eyes rolled over his body once with a look of disappointment. “Though maybe you should shower first.”
“You still make the best chicken parmesan I’d ever had, Liz,” Mama complimented me as we sat around the dining room table.
“She’s not lying, this is amazing,” Mike agreed. I gave him a tight smile and thanked them both. Mike seemed nice, which was a big improvement from the last creep I’d seen Mama with. Every now and then he would reach across the table and hold Mama’s hand, which actually made me feel bad for the guy. He looked at her with such lovey-dovey eyes; I was sure it was only a matter of time before she hurt him.
“So, Mike, what do you do?” Tristan asked.
“Oh, I’m a dentist. I’m in the process of taking over the family business because my dad is retiring in a year.”
That makes sense. Mama had a way of choosing men who had bigger wallets than most.
“Very cool,” Tristan replied. Everyone kept chatting, but I stopped listening; my eyes were glued to Mike massaging Mama’s hand. How did she never feel guilty about using men the way she did? How did it never get to her?
“Yes?”
“Give this guy a blow job tonight as a ‘thank you’ from me.” She smiled, leaned in, and kissed Elizabeth’s cheek. “Night, babe.” With that, Faye hurried away, seeming much happier than when she’d been crying not too long before. Sometimes all a broken heart needed was a bag of shit and a little fire.
Elizabeth climbed out her window, walked over to me, and I wrapped her in a hug. “Did you do something good for my bestie tonight?” she asked.
“I think so.”
“Thank you.” She pulled me in closer and rested her head on my chest. “Babe?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s that smell?”
“Trust me…” I looked down at my socks, which had at one point been white, but were now semi-brown. “You don’t want to know.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Elizabeth
“Well, don’t just stand there staring at me. Aren’t you happy to see me?” Mama smiled, standing on my porch with a suitcase in her hand.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, confused. I glanced toward the BMW sitting in front of my house, wondering what in the world my mother had gotten herself involved with now—or more likely, who.
“What? Your mother can’t come visit? You haven’t been answering my calls, and I missed my daughter and granddaughter. Is that such a crime? You won’t even give me a hug hello!” She huffed.
I leaned in to hug her. “I’m just surprised to see you. Sorry I haven’t called, I’ve been busy.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is your forehead bleeding?”
I ran my fingers across my forehead and shrugged. “Ketchup.”
“Why is there ketchup on your forehead?”
“I WANT TO EAT YOUR BRAINNNNNS!” Tristan said, walking past the foyer as he chased after a zombified Emma with spaghetti noodles in his hands and ketchup dripping from his face.
Mama’s head tilted to the left and her stare followed Tristan. “I guess you have been busy.”
“It’s not what it looks like—” I started, but Emma cut me off.
“Grandma!” she screamed, running to the door and jumping into Mama’s arms.
“My little sweet pea,” Mama replied, wrapping Emma in her arms and getting covered in ketchup. “Well, aren’t you a messy thing today?”
“Mama, Tick, and I were playing zombie and vampires!”
“Tick?” Mama turned to me and raised an eyebrow. “You let a man named Tick into your house?”
“Are you really judging the type of men I let into my house? Do you not remember some of the men who walked into yours?”
She smiled wickedly. “Touché.”
“Tristan,” I called. He came over, rubbing his fingers through his ketchup-filled hair.
“Yeah?” He smiled my way before turning to look at Mama.
“This is my mother, Hannah. Mama, this is my neighbor, Tristan.”
His stare met mine, and I watched his lips turn down for a split second, almost as if he was disappointed in my word choice. Soon enough he was smiling and shaking Mama’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Hannah. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“That’s funny.” Mama nodded. “Because I haven’t heard a word about you.”
Silence.
Awkward silence.
“So, should I join you all in the awkward silence, or should I wait by the car?” a man joked, walking up the steps of the porch with a suitcase of his own. He wore glasses and a mustard button-down shirt tucked into dark jeans.
Mama must’ve been on a nerdy boyfriend kick. I wonder if he’s a wizard.
Silence.
Extremely awkward silence.
The man cleared his throat and held his hand out toward Tristan, probably because he noticed Tristan wasn’t giving him an intense look of confusion like I was. “I’m Mike.”
“Nice to meet you, Mike,” Tristan replied.
“What happened to Richard?” I whispered toward Mama.
“It didn’t work out,” she replied.
Shocking.
“So, Mike and I were hoping we could stay the night here. I mean, we could get a hotel room but…I thought it would be nice for us all to have a dinner together and hang out.”
“Mama, tonight is my birthday party. Emma is going over to Kathy and Lincoln’s place for the night.” I frowned. “You should’ve called.”
“You wouldn’t answer.” Her cheeks blushed over, and she fiddled with her fingers, almost as if she was embarrassed. “You wouldn’t answer, Liz.”
And just like that, I felt like the crappiest daughter ever. “We can still do dinner, though…I can cook your favorite meal if you want. And you can watch Emma. I can call and cancel the plans with Kathy.”
Her cheeks rose, and her smile stretched. “That would be wonderful! Tick—er—Tristan, you should join us for dinner.” Her eyes rolled over his body once with a look of disappointment. “Though maybe you should shower first.”
“You still make the best chicken parmesan I’d ever had, Liz,” Mama complimented me as we sat around the dining room table.
“She’s not lying, this is amazing,” Mike agreed. I gave him a tight smile and thanked them both. Mike seemed nice, which was a big improvement from the last creep I’d seen Mama with. Every now and then he would reach across the table and hold Mama’s hand, which actually made me feel bad for the guy. He looked at her with such lovey-dovey eyes; I was sure it was only a matter of time before she hurt him.
“So, Mike, what do you do?” Tristan asked.
“Oh, I’m a dentist. I’m in the process of taking over the family business because my dad is retiring in a year.”
That makes sense. Mama had a way of choosing men who had bigger wallets than most.
“Very cool,” Tristan replied. Everyone kept chatting, but I stopped listening; my eyes were glued to Mike massaging Mama’s hand. How did she never feel guilty about using men the way she did? How did it never get to her?
