“It’s over. He came to settle a score. That’s it.”
“You have scores with cops?” Maryann rummaged in my freezer, found it empty, and checked out the fridge. “You have no ice. Hardly any food either.”
“I’m fine.”
“My ass. Stay right there,” she said, going to the door. “Don’t move.”
“Maryann…”
But she was already gone.
A flare of anger in me wanted more fight—a fair fight—but shame washed it away. A single fluorescent bulb lit my dim apartment. My coffee table was a heap of busted wood. A splotch of blood stained the carpet.
Sorry, Mom. I’m trying.
Maryann came back with a bag of frozen peas. Instead of handing it to me, she stood over me and pressed the bag to my eye, her other hand gently holding the back of my neck. For long moments, I just sat there with Maryann and her peas, her worry and concern wafting over me in warm, motherly waves. She smelled like lemon dish soap.
I closed my eyes and let myself have that for a minute, then stiffened to push her away.
“I got it, thanks.” I took the bag and held it to my eye. “You can go.”
Maryann pursed her lips, then sat in the chair across from me and rested her arms on the card table in a way that saidI’m not going anywhere.
“You’re young, aren’t you?” she asked. “You go to the high school?”
“When I can get there.”
“Who takes care of you? Not your uncle,” she said darkly. “He doesn’t take care of sh—” Her mouth snapped shut, her eyes anxious. “I mean no disrespect.”
“It’s okay. He’s an ass.”
“What can I do?” she asked. “Because this”—she gestured at the smashed table—“isnotokay.”
I knew Maryann Greer worked her ass off at an accounting company and took online classes to get a degree. To get a better job and make a better life for her girls. Weariness was written in every line of her face that made her look older than she was.
“I don’t need anything.”
I’m not taking anything from you.
“I disagree. Ronan, I—”
“Mommy?”
Lillian and Camille, her six-year-old twins, were peeking their heads inside, sleepy and curious.
“I told you both to stay in bed,” Maryann said.
“We couldn’t sleep,” said one.
“Yeah, it was loud up here,” said the other.
They had Maryann’s blond hair and blue eyes. Both wore little nightgowns with butterflies on them and an initial, C or L. They looked at me and then at the smashed table, eyes wide.
“They shouldn’t see this,” I said to Maryann in a low voice.
“Agreed. But this isn’t over yet,” she said and rose to her feet. “Girls…”
Too late. The twins had already rushed into my place and surrounded me at the table. Their energy filled up my small dark space and made it brighter.