A Mother Would Know (47)

Her room was like a scene in a horror movie. Severed doll heads and headless bodies littered the floor. They weren’t Barbie dolls either. Barbie heads would’ve been easy to pop back into place. These were her fabric dolls. The ones she’d had since she was little. In between the heads and bodies, gauzy cotton spread over the hardwood like decorative spiderwebs for Halloween.

“Hudson!” I admonished my little five-year-old, feeling both fascinated and petrified, and snatched his safety scissors from where they lay on the floor. How safe could they be if they were sharp enough to wreak this kind of damage? “Why would you do this?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at his older sister. “I didn’t want to play house. She made me. It’s her fault.”

As I set the phone down, I hear the front door open. Bowie barks. I step into the hallway as Hudson enters the house holding a bag of groceries in his hand. Bowie runs to him, barking and leaping around. Hudson shields his body with the grocery bag.

“Bowie, no!” I holler, making my way down the stairs. My eyes meet Hudson’s. “You went grocery shopping?” It was like pulling teeth to get him to come with me as a kid. He’d moan and drag his feet. I rarely made him, unless Darren wasn’t home to watch him. It wasn’t worth it.

Shrugging, he goes into the kitchen, sets the bag on the counter. “I saw your list.”

“Thanks.” Reaching inside the bag, my fingers light on a package of sliced turkey. I feel bad for getting irritated with him earlier. I never should’ve let Kendra get in my head about him. Their issues were nothing more than a case of sibling rivalry. My relationship with Hudson has always been different from theirs. Separate. I know him in a way Kendra doesn’t.

It’s not like I’m blind to his flaws. He’s not perfect. But he’s sweet. Always has been. He makes mistakes, screws up from time to time. But he always makes up for it.

“What have you got there?” It was late, the sky outside dark. Hudson’s room was dimly lit, the lamp on his dresser offering the barest yellow light. He hid in the corner, slumped over something he didn’t want me to see. I’d told him to get ready for bed ten minutes ago. He was wearing his Batman pajamas, and as I got closer, I caught the faint smell of toothpaste on his breath.

“Hudson? Let me see.” I lowered myself down to his level.

He turned, lifting up what he’d been hiding. It was one of Kendra’s dolls. He’d attempted to reattach her head with duct tape. It almost worked, too, except he’d accidentally put it on backwards. It was creepy, the way the doll’s face came out of her back, her head slightly askew and bobbing with each movement of Hudson’s hands.

Forcing a smile, I gently patted Hudson’s hair. “That was nice of you to try to fix Kendra’s doll, but why don’t you go ahead and put her down now, okay?”

Frowning, he nodded.

My heart pinched. He might have done a bad thing earlier, but he was trying to make up for it, and that’s what mattered.

“I’ll tell you what,” I said while guiding him toward his bed. “Tomorrow we’ll go to the store, and you can help me pick out a couple of new dolls for Kendra, okay?” His lips curled upward at the corners. He seemed much more content as he nestled into his pillow. As I tucked him in that night, the doll with its head on backwards stared up at us from where it lay on the floor. I shivered, unnerved by its black beady eyes and crooked neck.

“I’ll bring in the rest,” I say, following him outside.

Across the street, Leslie’s front door pops open. Hudson’s bent over, grabbing a bag out of his trunk. A man steps onto Leslie’s front porch. He has a large build, salt-and-pepper hair.

Hudson stands, cocking an eyebrow. “Leslie’s got a boyfriend?”

“Not that I know of.” I haven’t seen a guy over there in years.

I squint. “Is that James?”

“You think?” Hudson squints, too.

“It looks just like him.” A few pounds heavier, his hair more gray than brown, but definitely him.

“Maybe.” Hudson shrugs, moving around me.

The longer I look, the more I’m sure.

But what’s he doing there?

He looks in our direction, and I lift my hand and wave. We hadn’t ended things as badly as Leslie and I had. In fact, he and I had had a mildly pleasant conversation the week he moved out. But today he doesn’t return my wave. Instead, his attention is fixed on Hudson’s back as he carries a bag of groceries up the front stairs.





16





Mason babbles from his playpen, kicking his legs high up into the air like he’s doing infant yoga. His bright blue eyes stare up at the vaulted ceilings. Kendra has class this morning, and Theo is at work. Mason is wide-awake right now, but I doubt it will last long. According to Theo, he hasn’t been sleeping well. Which means nobody is.

“You look tired,” I observed when Theo slumped in the front door this morning, Mason in one arm and the diaper bag in the other, a yawn on his lips. “Mondays are always rough, huh?”

“It’s not just that. I was on kid duty last night since Kendra was up late studying for a test she has today.” He thrust Mason into my arms, visibly relaxing once I had him in my grasp. “On her nights, Kendra’s been taking him on long drives to settle him. But I tried last night, and it didn’t work. Kid was up all night playing and talking.”