Bad Mommy(24)

I ran four miles, my limbs burning with gratitude for the exercise. I texted Jolene, asking if Ryan had sent her anything worth swooning over. There was a deep part of me that felt as if it was my duty to push Jolene toward Ryan. I had a feeling about the two of them, the same sort of feeling I had about Darius and me. I’d once had that feeling about George, but he’d blown it, hadn’t he? He’d taken me for granted and we’d drifted apart. Women needed to be nurtured.

Just a couple things. I mostly ignored him, she said.

She obviously didn’t know the effect she had on all of them. Grown men following her around like lost puppies. It was pathetic really. I went home and popped Magnolia into the DVD player.



I hated Magnolia, but I didn’t tell Darius that.

“It was good,” I told him. “Different.” He looked mildly disappointed in my lackluster response, so I added a sentence. “I really liked the theme: coincidence.” And I sort of had, hadn’t I? I’d spent two hours reading reviews online trying to make sense of what I just watched, and what message Darius was trying to relay to me. I read a dozen reviews before it clicked that I was part of a strange coincidence, and whether he realized it or not, he was affirming my move next door, as well as my interaction with them. I was endeared to the message in Magnolia even if I thought the execution was poppycock. And besides, I liked the way his mind worked—the things he watched and the way he saw the world. He was deep without being pretentious. When he spoke to me, he wasn’t speaking at me like George, he was speaking to me. Before I even left their house, he’d handed me another DVD, this one called Doubt. I breathed in the smell of his cologne, the place between my legs beginning to tingle.

“It’ll get you right up here,” he said, tapping his temple. I decide that Darius had an unhealthy obsession with Philip Seymour Hoffman. When Darius retreated into the bedroom to shower, I decided to proposition Jolene, something I’d been meaning to do for a while.

“You should go out tonight,” I told her. “Dinner, drinks, whatever. I’ll watch Mercy.”

I wouldn’t exactly call Jolene overprotective. I’d once seen her leave a knife on the counter right where Mercy could reach it, but she wouldn’t leave Mercy with anyone but her mother. It was frustrating. Mercy was comfortable with me. She liked me.

“You two need some time together, even if it’s only for an hour or two. She’ll be fine, Jolene.”

She didn’t look convinced, so I went in for the kill.

“Darius seems upset lately … maybe a little distracted. It’ll be good for both of you.”

That got her. Her face suddenly looked guilty, and she started chewing on her lip. I eyed her limp hair and dark circles, and for the first time realized she might be tired. My focus was mostly on Darius and Mercy. Sometimes I forgot to check if Jolene was all right.

“Maybe just for an hour,” she said. I kept my face still even though this was a victory.

“I’ll come over at seven,” I told her. “That means you have two hours to get used to the idea and get drunk enough to actually leave.”

She laughed, but I knew it wasn’t far-fetched for Jolene to drink a couple glasses of wine at this time of night. Nasty red stuff that tasted like rot. She said it was to unwind, but she wrote books for a living—what did she need to unwind from?

“Okay, but make it eight so she’s already in bed,” Jolene said quickly. And then she added, “I don’t want her to think we abandoned her.”

It took all of my willpower not to roll my eyes, but I smiled and nodded, heading for the front door. Good God. How fucking dramatic. It’s not like she’d be leaving Mercy with a complete stranger.

“See ya,” I said, and then, “in two hours.”

It only took Jolene thirty-seven minutes to cancel. I was furious, pacing my small living room, my eyes burning in their sockets. Her text had been friendly, and she’d used Darius as an excuse, saying he’d had a long day and didn’t feel up to it, but I knew the truth. She didn’t trust me. I took a few shots from an old bottle of rum I had in the back of the pantry and grabbed my hoodie from the coat rack. I felt reckless … alive! I’d sacrificed so much for them. They had no idea how lucky they were. I cared. How many other people could say they had someone like me in their lives? Who cared as much as I did?

I drove east on 5, passing the trendier, hipster neighborhoods and exited near one of the dingier parts of Shoreline. It was the type of place where you kept your car doors locked at all times and always made sure you had pepper spray on hand. I found a grimy liquor store with bars on the windows and a cracked asphalt parking lot. I probably could have found a closer, safer place to buy liquor, but I liked the drama of the situation. Would I be mugged? Maybe. And besides, I just needed to get away from those people. People who thought they were happy when they couldn’t see the full scope of the situation—too blinded by their misguided perceptions of right and wrong. Ryan was moving in on Jolene right under Darius’s nose, and Darius was spending more and more time away from home because he was deeply unhappy. Poor little Mercy just needed her parents, but they were both distracted. Well, here I was and I wasn’t going to let Jolene ruin her. Thank God I was part of her life, that I could pour my love into her. I often pictured her as a teenager, angry with her parents (rightfully so) and thanking me for my active and loving part in her life.