“Who’s this pretty girl?” she asks me, beaming.
“Mackenzie. My girlfriend,” I tell her flatly. Mac flicks her eyes to me in confusion. “Mac, this is Shelley. My mom.”
“Oh.” Mac blinks, recovering quickly. “It’s, ah, nice to meet you.”
“Well, come on and help me inside,” Shelley says, still holding onto Mac. “I’ve got groceries for dinner. Hope everyone’s hungry.”
There’s no car in the driveway. Just a bunch of paper bags sitting on the front porch steps. No telling how she got here or what dreadful wind blew her back into town. She was probably kicked out by another pathetic sap who she drained for every last dime. Or she ran out on him in the middle of the night before he discovered she’d robbed him blind. I know this for certain: It won’t end well. Shelley is a walking catastrophe. She leaves only ruin in her wake, most of it laid at the feet of her sons. I learned a long time ago that nothing with her is ever as it seems. If she’s breathing, she’s lying. If she’s smiling at you, guard your wallet.
“Evan, baby, Momma’s home,” she calls when we get inside.
He comes out of the kitchen at the sound of her voice. His face blanches at realizing, as I did, it isn’t a trick of his imagination. He stands dead still, almost as if expecting her to evaporate. Indecision plays behind his eyes, wondering if it’s safe, or if he’ll get bitten.
Story of our lives.
“Come here.” Shelley coaxes him with open arms. “Gimme a hug.”
Tentative at first, keeping one eye on me for an explanation I don’t have, he embraces her. Unlike me, he actually returns the hug.
Disapproval flares inside me. Evan’s got an endless supply of forgiveness for this woman that I will never understand. He’s never wanted to see the truth. He expects that every time our mom walks back through our door, she’s here to stay, that this time we’ll be a family, despite the years of disappointment and hurt she’s put us through.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“Dinner.” She picks up a couple of the grocery bags and hands them off to him. “Lasagna. Your favorite.”
Mac offers to help because she’s too polite for her own damn good. I want to tell her not to bother. She doesn’t have to impress anyone. Instead, I bite my tongue and stick close by, because there’s no way I’m leaving Mac alone with that woman. Shelley’d probably shave Mac’s head for the price her hair would fetch with a black-market wig maker.
Later, when Shelley and Evan are in the kitchen, I take the opportunity to pull Mac aside under the pretense of setting the table.
“Do me a favor,” I say. “Don’t talk about your family when she asks.”
Her forehead wrinkles. “What do you mean? Why not?”
“Please.” My voice is low. Urgent. “Don’t mention money or what your dad does. Anything that suggests they’re well off. Or you, for that matter.”
“I’d never try to make your mom uncomfortable, if that’s what you mean.”
Mac’s good about not rubbing her fortune in everyone’s face, but that’s not what I’m getting at.
“It’s not that, babe. I don’t care what you have to say. Lie. Trust me on this.” Then, remembering her bracelet, I hold her wrist and undo the latch, sticking it in the pocket of her jeans.
“What are you doing?” She looks alarmed.
“Please. Until she’s gone. Don’t wear it in front of her.”
I have no idea how long Shelley’s planning to stick around or where she intends to stay. Her room is exactly how she left it. We don’t go in there. If past experience is any indication, however, she’ll be out trawling for a new man before midnight.
We’re all painfully well-behaved during dinner. Evan, poor guy, even seems happy to have Shelley home. They chat about what she’s been up to. Turns out she’s living in Atlanta with some guy she met at a casino.
“We fought over a slot machine,” she gushes with a giggle, “and ended up falling right in love!”
Uh-huh. I’m sure they’ll live happily ever after. Given that she’s here, they’ve probably already broken up.
“How long are you staying?” I interrupt her love story, my brusque tone causing Mac to find my hand under the table. She gives it a comforting squeeze.
Shelley looks offended that I would dare ask her that question.
Evan shoots me a dark look. “Dude. Chill. She just got here.”