I drop the treasures in my bag, followed by the gloves, then retrace my steps. This is a moment when the fear of being caught threatens to choke me, but I push past it and turn the corner into the main room like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Thankfully, no one is paying me any attention. I take my time heading back to the guest room, even stopping long enough to snag one of those lobster rolls. It is as yummy as I hoped it would be.
I’m pulling off the dress as I reach for the backpack hidden under the bed, then shuck the heels. Within seconds, I’m in my leggings and hoodie and I’m slipping out the window.
* * *
“Mama, I’m back!” I yell as I step inside our trailer. My Southern drawl snaps into place the second I cross the threshold.
“Hey, honey! Who won the game?” Mama asks from her bedroom. My light-brown hair is free of the wig cap and my face is scrubbed clean of makeup. The black hoodie has been replaced with one depicting my high school’s name and mascot.
Carrying a brown paper bag, I close the short distance from the main living area to Mama’s room. I drop it on the TV tray on the side of her bed before crawling in next to her.
“We lost. But it was close,” I say.
Mama digs in the bag and a smile breaks out across her face. “Oh, sweetie, you shouldn’t have.”
Cinnamon wafts through the room, and my heart nearly bursts seeing this small moment of happiness over something as simple as a late-night treat. “You need to eat more, Mama. You’re getting too skinny.”
Mama unwraps the bakery paper and the big fat cinnamon roll looks as decadent as it smells. “My favorite,” she whispers.
“I know,” I whisper back.
While she takes small bites, I pick up one of the square pieces of paper from the stack on the bedside table and start folding it in the way she’s taught me. Mama watches me while she eats, not correcting me when I make a wrong fold, instead letting me find my mistake on my own.
After several minutes, the small white origami swan takes shape in my hand.
“Oh, that’s a pretty one,” she says, plucking it out of the palm of my hand and adding it to the collection on the built-in shelf in her headboard. There are lots of different paper animals in all colors and sizes standing like sentries guarding over her. Mama has always been good with her hands; but no matter how many times she shows me, the swan is the only one I’ve mastered.
She’s about half done with the cinnamon roll when she’s wrapping it back up and putting it on the table next to the bed. “I’ll finish the rest tomorrow,” she says, even though we both know she won’t. It’s amazing she ate as much as she did.
“What are your plans the rest of the weekend?” she asks as she snuggles back down in the bed.
“I’m working at the flower shop. Big wedding tomorrow night.”
She turns her head toward me, her frail hand reaching out to my face. “You work too much. It’s your senior year, you should be out with your friends, having fun.”
I shake my head and swallow down the huge lump in my throat. “I can do both,” I lie. And we both let me get away with it.
“Have you heard back from any of the colleges you applied for yet?” Mama asks.
I shake my head. “Not yet, but should be any day now.” I can’t tell her I never applied because we couldn’t spare the application fee, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, she probably won’t be here to see I’m still stuck in this small town come fall.
“I know they’re all gonna want you. You’ll have your pick.”
I nod along but don’t say anything. But then she’s leaning closer and clutching my hand.
“One day soon you’ll be all grown.” She lets out a laugh and adds, “What am I saying, you’re already there. Taking care of me and everything else. I want so much for you, Lucca. A home and a family of your own one day. I want you to have that house we’ve always dreamed of. Maybe you can build it in that fancy new neighborhood near the lake.”
“And I’ll have a room just for you,” I add, playing along with the fantasy. “We’ll paint it green since it’s your favorite and you can get one of those beds that has a canopy on top. We can plant a garden in the backyard.”
She reaches up and pushes a stray clump of hair out of my face, then tucks it behind my ear. “We’ll grow tomatoes and cucumbers.”
“And carrots.”
Her eyelids get heavy. I know she’s only seconds from slipping back into sleep, even though she’s probably slept all day. “Of course, carrots. They’re your favorite. And I’ll make you a carrot cake.”