“That’s a beautiful wish, Mom, but I don’t share your faith in Nancy.”
Her forlorn expression made me feel like an ogre. “Not even after what happened today?”
“I can’t explain today . . .” Reiterating my license plate theory would earn me only an eye roll and a dismissive wave of the hands, and also make me feel like a shit. “But even if it was one hundred percent authentic, would you actually want to hear from Dad through that woman? It’s freaky, and we’d have no way to verify the truth of anything she’d tell us.” As gently as I could muster, I added, “Given our other priorities, ghost hunting doesn’t seem like the best use of time or money.”
She stiffened. “Well, I’ve got plenty of time, and it is my money, so I’ll use it however I please.”
I raised my hands in surrender, now defeated and drained. Not good, because I had even less of a filter under these conditions. “Okay, but if you go broke, we’ll both be living in my crummy old apartment.”
“Psh.” She fell silent, her lips twisted. I petted Mo, wishing Mom would leave me alone to think, but the way she picked at the quilt warned me the conversation was about to take a turn. “So is this Eli someone special?”
“He’s the guy who bought Dad’s albums from Max.”
Her stricken expression implied that she’d misinterpreted me.
“He didn’t know Max had stolen them,” I hastened to add. “He handed them over immediately upon finding out. He’s a good guy. A songwriter.”
“You like him.” She raised a brow.
“What little I know, I like.” I snuggled Mo closer, as if he could protect me from her probing.
“It’s a little soon after breaking things off with Max to throw yourself into something new, isn’t it?”
As if anyone’s heart could be bound by so-called rules of propriety. “I’m not throwing myself at him. I merely offered him some free classes because Max cost him so much money.”
Not entirely the truth, but close enough. She didn’t need to know the effort it took to repress the urge to jump his bones.
“Good, because whoever Karen is, he still loves her. That much is plain as the nose on your face.”
That ice water took a minute to shake off. My mom had this way of saying things—honest, true things—that hurt even when she didn’t mean them to. This was one of those times, and as usual, she wasn’t wrong.
Everything about Eli’s earlier expression and voice had dripped with longing for his wife. He hadn’t said how long ago she’d died, but he’d previously mentioned not writing for a couple of years. A long time to remain withdrawn from the world. “If you believe Nancy actually spoke with her, then she told him to move on.”
Mom slowly shook her head, chin tucked. “You can’t compete with a memory, Erin. A ghost of one’s beloved is a perfect incarnation of what used to be, untarnished by bad memories or faults. You will always suffer by comparison. I don’t want that for you.”
I knew my mother was speaking from experience. No matter how many times my dad had told anyone who would listen how he’d hit the jackpot with my mother, she never, ever fully forgot that someone else had been his first love.
Meanwhile, my entire life had been a series of suffering by comparison—to my siblings, other students—so this wouldn’t be any different, but I kept that to myself. “Well, I can’t help how I feel.”
Mom sighed. “You’re stubborn.”
“Maybe.” Mo licked my face and gave me sloppy doggy kisses, which were better than no kisses. “Mom, do you get lonely? I mean, you’re alone a lot. Maybe you need to join a club or find a new friend . . .”
She batted my knee. “I’ve no interest in dating.”
“I said ‘friend,’ not ‘boyfriend.’” Interesting that her mind went there, though. Sort of cringey, but interesting. “Then again, you are only sixty-two. Dad wouldn’t want you to live the next twenty or thirty years without any romance.” The mere thought made me a little sad for her.
Mom practically sprang off the mattress. “If you don’t want to talk about Eli, fine, but don’t nose into my personal life. For goodness’ sake, I’m too old for hot pants. I’ll see you later.”
She scurried away, leaving me scratching my head. Hot pants? I snorted.
My class at Give Me Strength wasn’t for another hour, so I lugged myself from the bed and put on an old Doors LP to chill out. “People Are Strange” had begun to play when a crashing sound made me leap off my bed. “Mom?”
Silence.
I trotted through the house, calling for her. By the time I reached the empty kitchen, my heart was racing. I flung the door to the garage open.
“Oh shoot!” Mo and I ran to the driver’s side of the car, which she’d backed into the garage door before opening it.
Mom sat behind the steering wheel, her white-knuckled hands wrapped around it, tears in her eyes. My heart thundered from panic and guilt. Why had I worked her into a tizzy when the whole reason I was living here was to make sure this kind of thing didn’t happen?
I flung open the car door. “Are you hurt?” After scanning her from head to toe, I breathed a sigh of relief. No blood.
“I’m fine. Completely fine.” She glanced up at me, pleading, “Erin, don’t tell Dodo about this.”
Dodo was the last thing on my mind, for God’s sake. Crossing my heart, I peered back at the rear bumper and the dented garage door. Two additional expenses we couldn’t afford. “Not a peep.”
Between Nancy Thompson and accidents like this, my mom would be as broke as I was within months. I dreaded calling Amanda, who didn’t need more bad news. Mom’s continual oopsy-daisies were becoming more troubling and dangerous at a time when the Turner family did not need more stress.
“Let’s go inside. I’ll get you some water and call the garage door company.” She leaned on my shoulder as she pushed out of the car, and I kept hold of her elbow until she was seated at the kitchen table.
She’d always seemed so together and invincible. Watching her falling apart made me aware that I relied on her toughness more than I’d realized.
While filling a water glass, I saw the clouds blocking the sun, dimming the light in the kitchen. Hopelessness had never been my thing, but with Amanda, my mother, and Eli all in distress, the blue mood enveloped me. A sluggishness I’d not felt since the early months of missing my dad’s quiet presence returned.
I handed my mother the glass and took a seat. “I won’t call Dodo, but we have to tell Amanda. This is the third or fourth dangerous incident in a couple weeks. It’s time to make a doctor’s appointment to rule out anything worse.”
“No!” She slammed the glass on the table.
“Mom, please. We lost Dad too soon. Don’t ignore your health, too.” Warm tears swam in my eyes. Despite our peevish relationship, I did love my mother. Her behavior of late had me getting concerned about dementia, like her dad had suffered.
“Okay.” The hardened look in her eyes resembled blue ice. “But only to prove that I’m fine.”
“Thank you.”