Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 48061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
I snap a picture of him with my phone and holler at Mom to come look.
“I’m coming, take it easy,” she grumbles good naturedly. “Can’t a woman get a moment’s peace to count her gray hairs?”
“No, you look great. Besides, Liam has made the world’s first neon green volcano and you can’t miss it.”
“Watch! Watch, Grammy, watch!” he bounces on his knees in the chair eagerly until she gives him her undivided attention. He waves the baster around theatrically, peppering us both with droplets of vinegar.
“Very cool!” my mom gushes, making Liam smile even wider.
“Ok, time to get ready for camp,” I say, shooing him from his seat.
I wipe vinegar off the table around the volcano bowl. Then I tap my son on the shoulder and tell him he has till the count of four to get to his toothbrush or I’ll tickle him.
He puts down the baster and makes a show of stretching, looking around, acting like he’s in no hurry until I get to three. Then he streaks off to the bathroom with me hot on his heels, laughing.
Ten minutes later, I load my mom’s walker into the back of my car and settle her in the passenger seat. After I run Liam to day camp, we get to her physical therapy appointment early.
“I’m sorry you have to wait around here,” she says.
“This is where I want to be, Mom. Besides, if I don’t stay for the whole session how am I gonna learn which exercises you hate so we can do extras of those at home.”
The PT, Adam, comes over and introduces himself to me. My mom does strength exercises, practices standing and walking a short distance with a guide rail. She’s slow but determined not to lean on anything. Her grit and stubbornness remind me so much of Liam. Afterward, I remind her to drink her water. She insists she’s just a little tired from therapy, but she doesn’t resist when I bring her an ice pack.
“I like your PT guy. He’s funny, and he seems like he knows what he’s doing,” I say.
“He’s gay,” she tells me. I shoot her a look.
“I meant I like him as a physical therapist for my mom. Not that I’m interested in him.”
“You should be interested in someone,” she says. “It’s not healthy for a young woman to go too long without sex.”
“Jesus, Mom!” I laugh. “I am not talking about that with you.”
“Speaking of things you don’t like talking about, how’s Benny Falconari doing?”
“I ran into him for like three minutes at the store the day I got coffee.” I say, hoping to leave it at that.
“You told me about that. But when he came to Snip, Gloria Robinson from my office was there. She saw you leave with him,” she says.
“Lord, I’d forgotten about the gossip pipeline in this neighborhood. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“I always worry. But that’s not what I was asking about. Benny’s been under a lot of stress lately. His father is off his rocker these days.”
“He was always a psycho,” I mutter.
“This is more than that. He’s losing his memory or something. Dementia, I think. And it’s getting worse. He should have stepped down already but like you said, he was always nuts.”
“I didn’t know,” I say. “Benny said he’s his dad’s right-hand man, but he made it sound fine.”
“You know how he used to hang out smoking on corners and talking shit, running that card game?” Mom says. “Now he’s like the volunteer fire department or something, running around cleaning up after his dad. He’s sponsoring t-ball teams and a gymnastics club. Thursdays are now free at the public pool—he’s got a hand in everything. A one-man community relations team, like he’s spending his time trying to keep people in the neighborhood from hating the family. His dad did a lot of damage even when he was in his right mind. The last few years, Benny’s turned that around. Total image makeover.”
I sit with that for a minute and think it over. He’s always been charming. I’d be the last person to deny it. He paid attention to little details when we were going out, he’d always stop and get me a Diet Coke on his way to pick me up or a hot chocolate if it was cold out. He kept a hoodie in his truck for when I got cold. One time when we were going swimming and I didn’t have my hair pulled back, and he said to look in the glove box. There, right beside the extra bullets and a box of condoms, I found a hairbrush, a new pack of hair ties, the cherry lip balm I liked. He took care of me, always wanting me to be comfortable.
But the proof of his violent lifestyle was there too, I remind myself. Don’t romanticize a bag of hair ties when they were right next to his ammo.