I bite my tongue because it’s not going to do me any good to be outraged. It’s just luggage. I didn’t even want the stuff, but Ricky got so focused on appearances, he wouldn’t hear of his wife showing up with American Tourister and embarrassing him.
“Fine. I’ll take the shed. At least it’s getting warm.”
Karma crosses her arms.
“Don’t you have to go get the girls?”
Karma’s glare swings to her sister. “Don’t tell me how to raise my kids.”
“Whatever. Just get out of our way if you’re not going to help.”
“Done.” Karma turns her back, slips into the house, and lets the door slam in our faces.
“Jesus Christ, I didn’t realize there was any way she could have possibly gotten worse, but ... wow.”
Cricket shakes her head. “I told you, it’s been awful lately. I swear, she needs a joint and a good fuck—with a condom, so she doesn’t get knocked up again. Maybe she’d be in a better mood if Addy or Maddy’s daddy, whoever he might be, would show any interest in their kids.”
“I guess that’s enough to make anyone bitter.”
A pang of sympathy for Karma’s kids stabs me in the chest. It reminds me of my childhood, which was nowhere near perfect either. But instead of being angry all the time, my mom was a ghost and my dad was always pissed off and looking for her. He didn’t hesitate to take it out on me with the back of his hand when I got too old for his belt.
“Mom and I try to make up for it. Some days, Karma doesn’t even get out of bed, so we don’t have much choice in the matter.”
I think about what Cricket said her sister needed. “Sounds like she needs medication and a major attitude adjustment.”
“Something. She’s damn near unbearable. I try to avoid her as much as possible. I sleep on the couch or crash with Hunter. Hell, some nights I even sleep in my van because being around her is too much to take.” Cricket pauses. “Honestly, the shed really isn’t a bad idea. Mom fixed the place up during her DIY phase. Let’s go check it out and see if we can’t make it work.”
With a bag in each of our hands, Cricket and I head through the house, which has been updated since I left. The striped wallpaper in the hallway is gone, replaced by bright yellow paint. The couch in the living room is red leather now instead of tan cloth that I remember. The kitchen cabinets have been painted white and sanded in the corners for an artfully worn effect, and the countertops look new.
Cricket opens the back door and leads me out into the yard. The grass is neatly mowed and lilacs line the fence. Aunt Jackie hasn’t done too bad for herself, which is at least one more thing to be happy about today.
In the far corner, near the back gate, is a wooden shed hiding behind raised beds holding vine-covered lattice.
“I haven’t been back here in ages,” Cricket says as we cross the lawn. “I don’t think Mom has used it in a while either. She gave up on painting and has gotten more into gardening with the girls.”
I open the door and peek inside, shocked to see that it’s not stuffed with old junk, but is instead a cute little living area with a futon. I flip on the light switch and smile at the shabby-chic interior. The table and two chairs, futon, coffee table, and rugs are no doubt from yard sales, but that doesn’t take away from their charm. The curtains are lacy and, if I had to guess, sewn by my aunt’s own hand.
It’s a she-shed.
A stack of outdated magazines and a few shelves of dusty books and an easel prove this is definitely Aunt Jackie’s haven from the world. Part of me feels guilty about intruding, but if there’s not room in the house for me, I don’t think she’ll mind, especially since the layer of dust on everything says she hasn’t used it in a while.
Growing up, I spent as much time with Jackie and Cricket as I could rather than with my own family. They lived in a house down by the river, only a quarter mile from my folks’ place on the family farm that went up for auction ... before Commodore Riscoff burned it down. After the sheriff threw us out, we were all scrambling for someplace to live, and Jackie landed here with the girls. My dad rented us a little place on the wrong side of the tracks that was barely big enough for three people.
“It’s perfect,” I say to Cricket as she sets one of my bags down just inside.
“It’s actually nicer than I remember. I should’ve moved out here. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. I totally forgot Mom put plumbing in herself, so there’s even a bathroom.”
Instantly, I feel bad. “Do you want it? I can find something else.”
“No. I’m moving in with Hunter after the wedding, and I don’t mind couch surfing in the meantime.”
“Not that it’s any of my business, but ... why haven’t you already moved in with him?”
Cricket shrugs before plopping down on the futon, and I sit next to her. “His mom made it clear that she’d be completely scandalized if I move in any sooner.”
The tone of her voice alerts me to trouble.
“You and Mrs. Havalin don’t get along?”