“There were just so many surprises, you know?” Tad says.
“Yeah.”
“Every day. It gave her such joy.”
“Joy every day. Really?”
“I mean, we all have our dark days. Very dark days, sometimes. When our demons come out to play. No one lives entirely in the light, right?”
“Right.”
“But your mother…” He trails off, looking at the window. Then he turns to me, smiling. “So. What’s your day like today, Belle?”
“My day?” I look around Mother’s apartment. So pristine on the surface, but I know I’m standing on a sinking pit. My day is fucked, Tad, I want to say. I have to pack this place up. Hire someone with money I don’t have, to fix all the broken shit. Sell it. Then get the hell out of here and go back to work. All in a few days. It’s impossible. It may as well be a tower full of straw that I’m supposed to spin into gold. I may as well be waiting for a goblin to show up with his dark promise to help me. In the wall of cracked mirrors, I see that my skin is in desperate need of mushroom mist.
“This and that,” I tell him, trying to smile.
“Look,” Tad says. “You can’t do this by yourself, Belle. This place. It’s old. Run-down. Things not working like they used to, you know?”
“I know.”
“So let me help you, please. I’ll help you pack and fix up the place. I can even bring some buddies to help me. I want to. I’d love to.” Now he grips my hands.
“But aren’t you busy? Don’t you have a… job or something?” His business card flashes in my head. The merman wielding the shears and the squeegee.
“I manage,” he says. “I’m well taken care of.” And just then he waves out the window. I look out and see an older woman in shorts and a visor holding a pair of gardening shears. She’s in the midst of clipping her bushes. When she sees Tad, her face visibly brightens. She waves enthusiastically, then turns and looks at me darkly. She keeps her eyes on me as she clips the bushes now. A snip of the shears that I feel at my throat.
“Gloria’s great,” Tad says, looking at me.
“Is she?”
“You know your mother has a ton of antiques. Sometimes old stuff is worth more than you think just looking at it. Not me, I like to look closely. I see its value. Like this right here.” He walks over to a chest of dark wood in the living room. He runs his hands lovingly over the wood.
“We could sell this. I know a guy downtown we could take it to. Get a good price on it, you know? Buy you some time.”
“Time?”
“To fix the place up. Sell it for what it’s worth, Belle. Do it right.” He puts his hands on my shoulders. That warm, large grip. His beachy, benevolent eyes imploring me.
A knock at the door. Sylvia. Wearing dark glasses. Peering into the windows and waving at me. Tad sees her, and for the first time he frowns. His hands drop quickly from my shoulders.
“Mirabelle,” Sylvia says, coming in. She takes one look at me in my red robe, at Tad in his cutoff shorts, and visibly bristles. Oh, she knows him. All too well. But she doesn’t share Gloria’s or Mother’s enthusiasm. “I was just checking in.” She tries to be sunny, pleasant, but her judgment is all over her face. Like mother, like daughter.
“Just packing up,” I say.
“I see.” She glares at Tad, who mumbles that he’ll get started on the bedroom. But that isn’t enough for Sylvia.
“Why don’t we go outside,” she entreats, “and sit in the sun?”
I’m reminded that my face is bereft of mist. Bereft too of the moisturizing cloud jelly that seals in the mist. Not to mention the Glowscreen, physical and chemical, that shields it from all. “Do you mind if we stay in here?” I say. “Not quite ready to face the world yet.”
She frowns at the hall down which Tad disappeared. “Of course, dear. Only if you’re absolutely sure you don’t need some… air.”
“I’m good. Coffee?”
She looks at the French press as though it were something obscene. Shakes her head of crisp little blond spikes. “Let’s just sit,” she whispers. She walks over to the red couch. Perches lightly on the very edge of it. Her manicured hands folded in her little lap. Thin lips pressed together in a smile. Drawn-in eyebrows furrowed. She’s attempting sympathy, I think.
“Mirabelle,” she says softly, staring at the bowl of roses when she speaks. “I’ve been giving it some thought.”