She doesn’t get a response.
I hear the fridge door open and shut.
“Oh, hey, did you get the insurance forms?”
“Huh? What the hell are you going on about?” Mom rasps out before going into a coughing fit.
“The pharmacy said the insurance was canceled. I didn’t know if you got the form or if it got lost in the mail.”
“You think I wouldn’t fill that out if I got it? Fucking bullshit. I have a doctor’s appointment next week! For fuck’s sake,” she mutters. I hear footsteps pound across the floor. “I’m going over to Eddie’s.”
I flinch as the door slams behind her, waiting for it to fall off again. It doesn’t, thankfully.
Eddie lives in the trailer park at the far back. He and Mom are fuck buddies which is gross to even think about, but she doesn’t hide it from any of us. A lot of the time when she isn’t here, she’s over there—not that we go looking for her because who the fuck cares. It’d be better if she stayed there.
“Maybe she’ll take care of it now,” Cammy says.
“Yeah, maybe,” I mutter.
“So,” Chrissy starts. “Where’d you get the car?”
“I told you. It’s a perk of my new job.”
“What new job?”
“I’m an assistant to some fancy CEO guy.”
Another lie. Another lie. Another fucking lie.
“No way. How did you get that job?”
“Excuse you,” I say. “I’m very qualified for the job.”
“Mhmm,” Chrissy says, then goes back to doing her homework.
Cammy is stifling her laugh from the top bunk. I get to my feet. “Are you two good? I have to go over to Abe’s and explain what’s going on before he tries to steal the car and take it for a joy ride.”
“We will be fine. Although…” Cammy says.
“What?”
“Pizza for dinner would be nice.” She grins.
“Pizza!” Chrissy shouts in a silly, growly voice.
“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Bye, big bro!” Chrissy calls after me when I leave. I’m careful with the door. I will fix it better next week, when I get my first, big pay check, but it’ll be fine for now. It’s been like this for years. It can’t get worse.
I make my way through the park, passing way too many stray cats—each of which has a name from Chrissy—piles of junk, and shouting tenants.
I fucking hate this place.
Abe opens the door before I even make it to the porch.
“You watching me from the window?” I ask.
“Yep,” he comments, stepping aside to let me in. I hurry up the porch steps and go inside.