“Did you remember to shampoo your hair?”
“I’m not a baby anymore.”
Her thoughts continued to drift of their own volition, slowing further as she followed him to his room. For an instant, the walls were light blue with wallpaper borders that showed old-fashioned scenes from the country, then the room changed back to reality. She found him a clean shirt and underwear, thinking how much she loved him as he crawled into bed. She used her fingers to straighten his hair before kissing him on the cheek.
Zombie-like, she returned to the darkened main floor. Only the light above the stove continued to provide enough of a glow to keep her from stumbling on the clutter.
I have to get ready, she thought, eyeing the chicken and hamburger. But she was operating on autopilot now, no longer in conscious control of her body, and she left the kitchen, heading to the living room. As she lay down on the couch, her mind blank, her eyes were already closing again.
For an instant, she imagined a pirate falling from the Empire State Building, and then all at once, she was asleep.
She didn’t wake until she heard Tommie coming downstairs, her eyes blinking open. Grayish light was streaming through the windows. As Beverly began to stretch, all that had happened in the last few days came rushing back, the weight of it so oppressive she felt like crying.
She recalled that her mom used to cry a lot in the mornings, memories of her red eyes and the way she’d wrap her arms around her own waist as though trying to hold herself together still vivid. Beverly never knew what to do at times like that, never knew how to make her mom feel better. Instead, she would keep her distance. She’d make her own breakfast and get herself off to school and then, while the teacher droned on, spend the rest of the day at her desk wondering what she’d done to make her mom so upset.
I am not my mother, Beverly reminded herself. Instead, focusing on Tommie, she sat up, struggling to keep the tears at bay and somehow succeeding. By then Tommie had reached the kitchen. Beverly went to join him, recognizing that they’d somehow made it safely through another night. That should have made her feel better, but it didn’t; in the back of her mind, she felt a newfound sense of dread, as though the worst was yet to come.
“Did I miss the bus?” Tommie asked, obviously unaware of how she was feeling. “I don’t want to be late.”
That’s right, she remembered. It’s field day. Beverly eyed the clock. “You’ll be fine. Let’s get you some breakfast, though.”
Her muscles were stiff as she moved to the cupboards. She made Tommie a bowl of cereal and brought it to the table, then flattened his cowlick using the wax on the counter. She plopped into the chair across from him, watching as he started to eat, her mind trying to shrug off the effects of sleep but wandering from the past to the future. Staring at her son, she couldn’t help feeling that Tommie deserved so much better. She should have provided him with a normal home and a normal life, but now she was about to uproot him again, because she’d made mistakes that a good mother wouldn’t have made. She wondered whether to warn him now or simply wake him in the middle of the night, as she had the last time. She wondered where they would eventually end up and whether she’d find work and how long it would be until their lives felt remotely normal again. She’d tried to do everything right, but somehow it had all gone wrong.
It wasn’t fair. No one deserved a life like she was giving her son, and her eyes welled with tears. She turned away, not wanting Tommie to see them.
“Do you like it here?” she asked, her mind continuing to wander. “Sometimes I think it would be nice to live near the beach. Do you remember when we went to the beach? When you were little?”
He’d been young then, still a toddler, and she’d put so much sunscreen on him that the sand stuck to him like glue. They built sandcastles and splashed at the water’s edge and tossed grapes for the seagulls, which made Tommie scream with laughter as the birds flocked from one spot to the next. Gary had decided to go golfing instead, and she recalled thinking even then that Tommie was all she’d ever need.
“That was a wonderful day,” she reminisced, knowing she was talking to herself more than to him. “We had so much fun—maybe we should try to do that again. Find a place close to the beach, where we could play in the sand or watch the sun go down over the water. Sometimes I think I could just sit and listen to the waves for hours. Wouldn’t that be perfect?”
Tommie looked at her. “Amelia said that I could sit next to her on the bus today.”