Mum’s not much of a coffee drinker; she doesn’t have the shakes in her fingers like many coffee-drinking addicts do. However, her hands shake as she attempts to open the zip-lock of the Reese’s bag. She has to put it down, wipe down her hands on her pants, and shake out her fingers.
Her arms. They’re gangly. I used to look like that when I was in my first years of high school.
She takes her couch and puts her feet up on a stool, placing the open bag between us on the end table. I also put my feet up on a footrest in front.
“Want one?”
She hands over the cigarette packet and I light one, too. After a long drag, a calming breath, I’m more at ease.
I’m about to get into Mum about why all that happened that day when she walked out on the rest of our family, but pretend I’m yawning, and crunch on some chocolate instead. Accusation, as I’ve experienced, doesn’t make me want to spill my guts out. It wouldn’t for Mum either.
“Hey,” I start. Mum waits. I rest the cigarette in the ashtray beside me, and go on. “Why did things get like this between you and Aunty Nicole—and Grandpa and all.”
“Kalli, that’s so old!” She throws back her head, tossing in a handful of the chocolate pieces, and makes a shooing motion until she finishes chewing. “It’s so long ago. You don’t have to worry. Aren’t you morbid? We’ve got so much other better things to talk about.”
“It matters to me.” I want to know why. “Because I know you’re still hurting from it. I could never not speak to Seth and Tris again. I’ve been home catching up on studies and busy with work, and I’ve had quiet time to imagine if I became too busy for my loved ones. It hurts thinking about it. It’s just always been an important thing to know about my family.”
“You’re getting all worried. This is why I like to forget about it. It’s nothing.” She shrugs. “I barely remember why now, anyway.”
Lies. But her face is infallible. I’d never know if I wasn’t already in on the secret.
“It’s not nothing. Loved ones are everything. I want Seth and Tris to know their extended family—I want to know them. Don’t you? Don’t you feel lonely sometimes? There’s that, and I’m so damn proud of you cleaning up and being awesome with the twins and me. Maybe I want to show off how proud I am of all this. And, deep down, I think you’d want them to know how you’re doing now, too.”
Mum points her cigarette at me. “You’re astute, Kalli.”
“No, I was good at being ignorant. I think we can help each other if we finally talk.”
This silences her. I let her finish off that cigarette in the quiet. I let her stub it out way after the red ember dies.
“You sure? You don’t have to.”
“Mary, I need help too.”
She nods. When she reaches out her hand, I take it. We’re linked in the space between us with our forearms dangling off the couch shoulders.
“Kalli.” She smiles, and that glow tells me it’s genuine. You can’t fake the cosy feeling when someone gives you a smile from the heart. “It’s great you want to help me, but the thing is, I want to do it quietly, without any outside pressures. It’s hard to sleep sometimes, and I’m loaded on painkillers—go figure—but it’s worth it for you guys. It’s always worth it.”
“I’ll just listen. I want you to know how proud I am.”
At this point, the air is so thick I have to adjust the angle of my face to find a way to swallow. My muscles are so tight that this moment with Mum, it’s like a breath from an air conditioner in the heat of summer.
“Let me do this my way, Kalli.” Her voice is stronger now; not mad, but certain.
I remember my cigarette, resting in the ashtray beside me. I give Mum a look and finish off the bit that’s left, emptying the tray in the trash can on the other side of the basement. When I come back and sit down, I swear the world is moving on without me and I don’t know why we’re here or how to say what I need to when I’ve always been fine to keep this to myself.
Mum nods—an agreement between us. “There are some things you should know that I discovered through my mistakes. You can’t ever erase the impact of the terrible things you do to someone; that sits between you forever. Making up, turning a new leaf, etcetera—it’s all well and good, but for everything you do wrong, it needs to be made up two-fold. Impressions do fade—good or bad—and so anything bad you do can be superseded, but also anything good you do can easily be forgotten under all your mistakes.