Truly, Madly, Whiskey(3)

“How are you, Mom? Is your job okay?” Her mother worked at a convenience store three blocks away.

She nodded, inhaling loudly as she plucked the cigarette from her mouth, and waved a hand. “Twenty, thirty hours a week. They’re still talking about making me a manager, but you know.” She winked and stuck the cigarette between her painted lips. “I’ll find me a good man before that happens.”

“Sure.” Crystal had long ago stopped believing her mother’s stories about being promoted, and had also given up trying to convince her that a man would never be the answer to her troubles.

She set the table, listening to her mother rattle on about a woman she worked with. Just once she’d love for her mother to ask how she was or what was new in her life, the way she had before her father had lost his job and they’d been forced to move from their home in Peaceful Harbor. But her mother hadn’t been that woman for years. She had changed when they’d moved, and she’d gotten even worse after her father was killed.

The door flew open and Jed stepped into the room, making the tight quarters feel even smaller. At six two, with dirty-blond hair, a beard that came in a shade darker, and piercing blue eyes, he was the spitting image of their father.

He kissed the top of Crystal’s head. “Hey, shrimp. Still doing the goth thing?”

She rolled her eyes. She’d dyed her hair black right after she’d moved to Peaceful Harbor. That had been more than four years ago. She’d thought he’d be used to it by now.

“Still doing the stealing thing?” She nodded at his leather jacket as he dipped his head to kiss his mother’s cheek.

He flopped down on the couch and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “Nope. I helped a guy fix his car.” He brushed an invisible speck of dirt from the dark leather. “Earned the money for this legally.”

“Uh-huh.” Crystal pushed his feet off the coffee table and went to fill water glasses for dinner. “I can’t remember the last time you earned money the hard way. Where are you living these days?”

“Crashing at a friend’s place. Basement apartment.”

“Got my cigarettes?” their mother asked.

“Oh, crap.” Jed winced. “I knew I forgot something.”

“Christ, Jeddy,” their mother said as she dished the chili onto three plates. “What have you been doing? I’ve waited all day.”

“Ma. I’ve been working. Don’t worry,” Jed said. “I’ll get them after dinner.”

Crystal’s ears perked up. “Working? Really?”

“I’m trying to pull my shit together. Finally putting that mechanics training to good use and picking up a few hours here and there at a restaurant.”

Their mother scoffed. “Right. Get on up here and eat.”

They sat at the table, the silence broken only by the clinking of silverware on plates. Crystal pushed her food around, watching her mother smoke and eat. She had vague memories of her mother without cigarette-stained teeth, yellowed fingers, and the bitterness of someone who the world had wronged. Memories of a woman who would send her off to elementary school with a paper-bag lunch and greet her with a smile when she’d stepped off the bus at the end of the day. In a sense, her father’s death had stolen both of her parents.

“Where are you working?” Crystal asked, taking a longer look at her brother. He wasn’t a big drinker, and he’d never been a drug user. Unfortunately, there weren’t any outward signs for a thief.

“My buddy runs a gas station. I’m helping him out.”

“How much do you pocket?” his mother asked.

“Mom!” Crystal might not buy that her brother was suddenly trying to clean up his act after a lifetime of trouble, but she didn’t like her mother’s condescending attitude. It was bad enough that she’d never believed a damn thing Crystal said, but at least she could understand her mother’s anger toward her. She’d left home at eighteen with a Pell Grant to attend college and had never looked back. But Jed had stuck by their mother, put her to bed when she was too drunk to walk and done whatever she’d asked of him for years.

“What?” She took a drag of her cigarette. “You can’t trust a liar’s word. He’s just like your father.”

“Someone has to provide for you,” Jed snapped.

“Jesus, Jed. Please tell me you are not giving her money.” Crystal couldn’t get lost in that right now; she was too pissed at what her mother had said. “Dad wasn’t a liar.” She crossed her arms, unwilling to fight the familiar battle. Her mother claimed her father had promised her a good life. It wasn’t his fault he’d gotten laid off. Wasn’t that what loving someone “for better or worse” meant? Sticking it out through the tough times? He’d given them all a good life, and he’d loved them. It wasn’t his fault that at the first sign of trouble their mother had started drinking. She’d never understood what more her mother could have wanted, and at this point she simply didn’t care.

Her mother pulled the cigarette from her mouth to speak, and Jed put a hand on her arm. “Mom, don’t.”

“Okay, you know what?” Crystal gritted her teeth. “I didn’t come here to listen to you berate Jed or Dad.”

“Why did you come here?” her mother challenged.