Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Her smile falls away. “Not sure how I’ll feel about going out for a book club. Lately I haven’t much felt like leaving this house.”
I sit on the edge of the bed and hold the red book, flipping through its pages. “I could come to you.”
Her eyes widen beneath her naked eyelids. “You’d do that?”
“Of course. Sounds like fun.”
“I don’t trust ‘fun’ from someone who enjoys cleaning as much as you do.” She laughs. “But we can give it a try.”
“Good.” I stand, put the book back on the nightstand, and pull the covers back. “Come on. Your bed awaits.”
It’s late afternoon by the time we’re done cleaning. Cora went back to sleep and didn’t surface again. We got all the food put away and left instructions for storage, freezing, and prep. In the end, I couldn’t resist a Target run for the front porch. I grabbed a new welcome mat on sale, a few cheap pots, and several pumpkins from the produce section.
“Wow,” Lindee says. “You decorated our porch.”
“You think your mom will mind?” I ask, biting my thumbnail. “It’s fall, and I wanted to give it a little pop. Make it kind of festive and cheerful?”
“She loves stuff like this,” George volunteers. “She usually does it every year. It’ll make her happy to see it. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.” I loop my elbows through Lupe’s and Deja’s. “Come on, girls. Let’s load up and move out.”
“Bye, Mrs. Barnes,” Lindee calls from the porch.
“It’s Charles now,” Lupe corrects. “That’s her maiden name.”
I stare at my daughter because, if I’m not mistaken, there’s a touch of pride in her voice.
We leave Cora’s house and drive back through Skyland. In the last nine months, I’ve come close to losing our house and being forced from this place more than once. It makes me appreciate the charming square where the gurgling fountain holds court. The restaurants with tables set out on cobblestone sidewalks. The verdant lawn of Sky Park and the ornate gate that guards it. This is our home, and I allow myself a moment of gladness that I keep fighting to stay here.
“Am I dropping you off at home, Deja?” I ask.
“Yes, ma’am.” She grins at me through the rearview mirror.
“Can I hang out at Deja’s for a little while?” Lupe asks.
“Sure.” I smile at them both. “You guys were amazing today. Thank you for giving up your Saturday.”
“You’re pretty amazing, Mom,” Lupe says softly from the passenger seat.
Surprised, I glance over to her, and when I meet her eyes, there’s a serious expression on her face.
“People don’t do that,” she continues. “What you did for Mrs. Garland, most people don’t do. Most people aren’t you.”
I jerk my eyes back ahead, as much to compose myself as to keep the car on the road. Emotion heats my throat, and my eyes burn.
“Yeah, Ms. Charles,” Deja adds. “My mom says she wishes you were the president.”
My shoulders shake with a laugh. “America would be clean, if nothing else.”
“Deja and I were thinking.” Lupe glances to her best friend in the back seat and then to me. “What if we donate our hair for cancer patients who need wigs?”
For a moment I can’t even speak, I’m so moved by these young girls’ generosity, their compassion. As a mom, you often wonder if you’re getting it “right.” Moments like these make you feel that all the shit you go through from the time they come out of you squawking might actually be worth it.
“I think that’s such a good idea,” I reply, reaching over to squeeze Lupe’s hand. “How about if I do it with you guys?”
“Oh, my God. Ms. Charles!” Deja squeaks. “That’s so cool!”
“I’ll check to see what we need to do,” Lupe says, a bright smile on her face. “Like how long it needs to be and where to send it.”
“Sounds good.” I hand my phone to Lupe, hoping to shift the tone so I don’t cry and can keep it together. “Now find us something to listen to in there. I’ve got it all. Doja Cat, Megan Thee Stallion, Bad Bunny.”
“Oh, my God.” Lupe rolls her eyes, but grins. “It’s giving very much I’m the cool mom energy right now.”
“But I am the cool mom,” I tease.
“If you have to say it,” Deja giggles from the back, “we know you’re not.”
We get through a few songs before I pull into Deja’s driveway.
“Tell your mom I’ll talk to her later,” I call as Deja and Lupe climb out. “Call me when you’re ready, Lu. I’ll come get you if Yas can’t bring you home.”
“It’s just a few blocks,” Lupe protests, her hand on the door. “I can walk.”
“Not at night. Nope. Either they bring you home or I do, but you are not walking.”
“Whatever.” After a beat, she leans over and kisses my cheek. “Love you, Ms. Charles.”