Forever for a Year(36)

*

I took the late bus home after practice to find Lily home alone. Yeah, she’s super mature for seven, but she’s still seven freaking years old and shouldn’t be home alone. Ever. “Where’s Mom?” I asked.

“She wasn’t here when I got off the bus,” she said, sitting on the floor of her room, coloring. She always stayed inside the lines.

“You hungry?”

“Mom’s making us dinner.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m going to wait for her to make dinner, Trevor! And so should you. We have to be supportive.” Yep. That’s my sister. Thinking it’s her job to be a cheerleader for her mom.

“It’s five thirty now. At seven, we’re both eating whether she’s here or not.”

“Maybe,” she said, then refused to look up from her coloring book again.

When I called her cell, my mom didn’t pick up. Goddamn. Worst mother in history.

*

At seven twenty-four, I poured Lily a bowl of Cheerios with a cut-up banana. Only thing she would consider eating. Said it would be a snack before our real dinner.

Three minutes later—exactly three minutes, actually—my mom walked into the house from the garage. She carried two big plates with tinfoil over them.

Lily cried out like it was stupid Christmas morning, “I knew it!” Dumped her cereal in the sink and jumped in the air next to my mom trying to see what she carried.

“Trevor,” my mom said, “there is one more plate in the car. Can you grab it for me?”

“Where were you?” I asked, as if my mom had stayed out after her curfew.

“I was cooking!” Mom raised the plates in the air before setting them down on the dining table.

“She was cooking, Trevor,” Lily said, pulling off the foil to reveal a plate of grilled chicken garnished with charcoaled cherry tomatoes and yellow peppers. The other plate held seasoned sweet potatoes. The food looked great. Too great.

I said, still pissed and still wanting Mom to pay for it, “Lily was here for two hours alone after school.”

“Lily, you were okay, weren’t you?” my mom said, not looking at me.

“Yes! I’m always okay. Mom told me she wasn’t going to be home.”

“Lily, don’t lie!” I cried out. Frustrated. Like a baby. God, I hated how my mom made me like this. “Your seven-year-old daughter is lying for you, Mom!”

“Trevor, I want this to be a fun night. Can we please make this a fun night?”

“Apologize.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. Fast. Too fast. She didn’t mean it. And I didn’t want to let her off the hook so easily.

“No, Mom, this is not okay!”

“Trevor!” Lily screamed. She never screamed. So I shut up. “She said sorry and she made us dinner!”

“Did she? Did you, Mom? Did you make all of this? Why are you carrying it in? Shouldn’t food you made ALREADY BE IN THE KITCHEN?”

Lily collapsed onto the floor, hit her palms over and over against the floor, retching out some animalistic cry. Never seen her do anything like it. And I had made her do it.

“Trevor,” my mom said once Lily’s noises subsided enough for her to be heard. “I cooked at Grandma’s. I wanted to do it with her. Is that okay or do you want to yell at me more?”

“But—” I started, because my mom still hadn’t looked me in the eyes. I always knew she was lying when she couldn’t look me in the eyes. Only Lily jacked up the volume of her first-ever temper tantrum. That made me stop talking. Lily was smart even when she was acting crazy. I turned toward the garage.

“Aren’t you going to eat with us?” my mom asked.

“You said there was another plate in the car.” Flung open the door. Aaaaaaaaaah! But the scream was just in my head.

*

Found the last plate of my mom’s “cooking” in the back of her Infiniti. Chocolate and peanut butter brownies. My grandma’s specialty. What probably happened was my mom told Grandma that she needed to cook something for dinner, and Grandma volunteered to help. Then she probably ended up doing the whole thing. Mom went off and did who knows what all day.

And probably not alone.

Crap. Man. It was just that one phone call.… Maybe my mom didn’t cheat. Crap. Forget it. Forget it all. Don’t care about Mom, Trevor. Don’t care about her at all. Care about Lily. And Lily wants to like Mom.

No! I won’t let her!

I picked up the plate of brownies and walked back into the house, ready to tell her I knew Grandma had cooked everything, only I found Lily giggling with wonder at the table as she smelled the food. She acted like it was the greatest meal she had ever seen.

Screw it. I put the brownies down next to the other food.

“Brownies, Trevor!” Lily called out. “Your favorite! This is MY favorite dinner ever!”

Double screw it. I pretended to be a monster, with a deep, gargley voice, and said, “Food so good. Food so good,” and picked up a chicken thigh and gnawed at it, made a mess of my face and the table, but it made Lily laugh. Made my mom laugh too. I can act goofy for Lily, but not for anyone else.

See, life would be so simple and fun if I could pretend it wasn’t bullshit.

*