“Work, work, work.” She was upset, her voice rising. “Work doesn’t need you. You’re replaceable there. Writing silly pathetic stories that noone reads. Anyone could do that. I could do that if I hadn’t wasted my life having children.”
“It’s only three weeks,” said Wes, ignoring the familiar verbal hits. “I’ve been gone longer before.”
“The girls were with me then. I’ll be alone.” Their mother stared at Amy, who merely looked back instead of making the offer to stay their mother expected. That was enough to put her in a rage that she turned, as usual, on Wes. “You’re not a good son. You’re ungrateful, like your sisters. As bad as them. Worse.”
Something snapped in Wes. It was as though a cable laid across his shoulders had been cut away, leaving him bobbing aimlessly but free. After all he did, it was never enough. He was never enough. There would always be more ways he’d be asked to prove himself. More ways to fail. He stood up. “Fine.”
“Wes?” asked Amy, uncertain for the first time.
Wes left the table as his mother burst into tears.
Amy followed him into his room. “Wes?”
“I’m sorry, Amy.” He threw a few final things into the bags he’d packed earlier. “You were right. I’m a weakling.”
“Whoa, hey, I never said that.” She caught his look. “In those exact words.”
That made him laugh, at least a bit, and she smiled tentatively at him. “I’m sorry I made you come over for this,” he said.
“We stick together.” She put on a Humphrey Bogart voice. “The problems of three people can amount to more than a hill of beans.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Amy always cheered him up.
“Cut me some slack. I’m trying to work with the source material here.”
From the dining room, their mother’s sobs got progressively louder and more theatrical. Wes tried to ignore them. “I left a sheet for Ma in the kitchen with emergency numbers and information about garbage and recycling.”
Amy closed the door to block their mother out, then grabbed himby the shoulders. “Wes. Listen to me. You do not have to leave emergency numbers or preorder groceries. She is perfectly healthy, and if she’s capable of handling herself in the office, she can do it at home. She is choosing to do this, and it’s not your job to parent her. Or Ella for that matter.”
Wes heard the words—Amy had delivered this speech in various forms over the years—and as usual, he ignored them. It was easy enough for Amy to say, but she didn’t have that same feeling of responsibility Wes did. Wes had to fix things. Had to make sure the people in his life were happy. He gave his usual response. “I know.”
“I wish you did.”
Amy waited until he was packed, and they went out to where their mother sat in front of the television. She didn’t look up as they entered, and Amy poked him in a sisterly gesture of solidarity.
“It’s okay,” Amy whispered.
She was right. Ma was able to care for herself, and he wasn’t a bad person for going to stay at Dot Voline’s house. He wasn’t selfish or negligent. That being said, it was best not to draw this out, because it wouldn’t take long for the self-reproach to surge high enough to break his spirit, causing him to unpack and tell Nadine that she needed to stay in the big house all alone.
Nadine would say fine, but he knew it would upset her. In the end, it was thinking about Nadine sitting up at three in the morning worrying about the strange sounds outside that confirmed his decision. At least his mother would be at home and within shouting distance of the neighbors.
“You can call if you need, Ma,” he said as he bent to kiss her cheek. She leaned away, refusing to make eye contact. “Don’t be like this.” He hated when she ignored him, pretending he was invisible. When he was younger, he sometimes felt he was.
Behind her, Amy mimed stabbing herself in the brain.
“Grow up, Ma,” she said.
Their mother simply turned up the volume on the reality show she was watching.
Amy followed him to the door. “Sorry to leave you with the dishes,” he said.
“No problem, big brother.” There was an expression on her face that Wes couldn’t read. It wasn’t anger or resentment. Perhaps…pride? Whatever it was disappeared in a flash. “Bye, Wes” was all she said.
He sat in the car for a few minutes. He had to get groceries for Dot’s house. He had to text Mr. Prescott to check on Ma. He had to…
He slumped over and leaned his head on the steering wheel. This wasn’t the first time he’d gone against his mother, and he already knew what would happen in twenty-two days. He’d come home to at least a week of tears and accusations before life would continue on its same way.
Wes sat up. He would deal with it then. Today, he would go to Dot’s twelve hours early and get a jump start on Nadine. Seeing her face tomorrow morning when he met her at the door with coffee and a full breakfast to emphasize he’d had the run of Dot’s mansion without her would help the heaviness weighing down his chest. Three weeks was a long time, and he had a lot to do before he came back to his mother’s house.