cement floor next to the bike. When I notice some dirt on the left shock absorber, near the back tire, I lean toward a nearby shelf on the wall and grab a rag.
Just as I’m wiping and polishing, I hear the opening of a door.
It’s either Mom or Kay coming into the garage.
Please be Kay, please be Kay.
“Chase.”
Fuck, it’s Mom.
“What do you want?” I ask. I don’t bother to look up at her, even when she reaches where I’m seated.
“Can we talk?” she quietly asks.
“I don’t know,” I scoff. “And by the way, where’s Kay?”
“She went upstairs. She wanted to come to you, but I asked her to give us a few minutes to talk things out.”
“A few minutes to talk things out?” I scoff. “Really? You think we can get this shit straightened out in a few short minutes?”
“Well, no,” Mom replies, sighing. “Maybe it’ll take more than a few minutes. But how long, Chase? How long will it take before you and I reach some kind of common ground here?”
“Try forever,” I snap.
I still haven’t looked up at my mother, but I eye her up good when I stand. I have every intention of giving her one final stare-down before taking off. But when I see all the pain in her eyes—true sorrow—I ease up.
I can’t do cold-hearted—not right now—so I say in a kinder-than-I’m-feeling tone, “Okay, where do you want to start?”
“Where do you think I want to start, Chase? I want to know what’s going on. I want to know why you’re really here. Your brother said you and Kay just up and decided to visit. Like, out of the blue.” She waves her hand around. “That’s pretty random, Chase, even for you. And don’t think I’m buying it even for a minute.”
I shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
My mom lets out a frustrated, “Jesus.” And then, after a beat, says, “Don’t give me that shit, Chase Michael Gartner. Your brother’s been acting shady, and I think you know why. What are you keeping from me? I know something is up with that kid.”
Ha, if only she knew . But I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with Mom’s histrionics when she learns “that kid” bought a gun in Ohio.
Swiftly, I steer the subject to what caused all the fuss at dinner, thinking the whole while best to pick your battles carefully .
“Will and Cassie are having sex, Mom,” I blurt out. There, take that. Those blinders are coming off .
“Oh, Chase.” She waves me off dismissively.
But I am not deterred. “No, Mom. No, ‘oh, Chase’. Those kids are not just hanging out at Cassie’s house like you think they are. You need to wake up and see what’s happening. You’re being duped by your youngest. You have to start keeping a tighter rein on Will.”
Mom wrings her hands. She’s giving in, allowing herself to see what’s right in front of her face. “But Will is only fifteen, Chase,” she cries.
“Exactly. He’s fifteen, Mom. Not eight.”
“He can’t be having sex,” Mom whispers, stricken.
“He grew up fast,” I say gently. “You know that. You’re actually lucky he didn’t start sooner.”
Will is her baby, though, so I know this is difficult for her to hear.
Mom leans back against a work bench, like she needs the support to keep her upright. Maybe she does. She’s a leaner, not a supporter.
“I’ve been a bad mom to you boys,” she says in a pained tone.
I don’t want to lie, but I don’t have it in me to be brutal. I choose to go with a half-truth. “You did the best you could, Mom.”
She sometimes did.
We look at each other meaningfully for a few seconds, and then she says, “You don’t have to say things that aren’t true to try and make me feel better, Chase.”
I let out a long, tired breath. “Still, the past is the past. Not much we can do about it now.”
My mom touches my forearm. “Honey, I should never have sent you away.” She sighs deeply. “You ended up in prison, for God’s sake.”
“You helped me get out early,
Just as I’m wiping and polishing, I hear the opening of a door.
It’s either Mom or Kay coming into the garage.
Please be Kay, please be Kay.
“Chase.”
Fuck, it’s Mom.
“What do you want?” I ask. I don’t bother to look up at her, even when she reaches where I’m seated.
“Can we talk?” she quietly asks.
“I don’t know,” I scoff. “And by the way, where’s Kay?”
“She went upstairs. She wanted to come to you, but I asked her to give us a few minutes to talk things out.”
“A few minutes to talk things out?” I scoff. “Really? You think we can get this shit straightened out in a few short minutes?”
“Well, no,” Mom replies, sighing. “Maybe it’ll take more than a few minutes. But how long, Chase? How long will it take before you and I reach some kind of common ground here?”
“Try forever,” I snap.
I still haven’t looked up at my mother, but I eye her up good when I stand. I have every intention of giving her one final stare-down before taking off. But when I see all the pain in her eyes—true sorrow—I ease up.
I can’t do cold-hearted—not right now—so I say in a kinder-than-I’m-feeling tone, “Okay, where do you want to start?”
“Where do you think I want to start, Chase? I want to know what’s going on. I want to know why you’re really here. Your brother said you and Kay just up and decided to visit. Like, out of the blue.” She waves her hand around. “That’s pretty random, Chase, even for you. And don’t think I’m buying it even for a minute.”
I shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
My mom lets out a frustrated, “Jesus.” And then, after a beat, says, “Don’t give me that shit, Chase Michael Gartner. Your brother’s been acting shady, and I think you know why. What are you keeping from me? I know something is up with that kid.”
Ha, if only she knew . But I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with Mom’s histrionics when she learns “that kid” bought a gun in Ohio.
Swiftly, I steer the subject to what caused all the fuss at dinner, thinking the whole while best to pick your battles carefully .
“Will and Cassie are having sex, Mom,” I blurt out. There, take that. Those blinders are coming off .
“Oh, Chase.” She waves me off dismissively.
But I am not deterred. “No, Mom. No, ‘oh, Chase’. Those kids are not just hanging out at Cassie’s house like you think they are. You need to wake up and see what’s happening. You’re being duped by your youngest. You have to start keeping a tighter rein on Will.”
Mom wrings her hands. She’s giving in, allowing herself to see what’s right in front of her face. “But Will is only fifteen, Chase,” she cries.
“Exactly. He’s fifteen, Mom. Not eight.”
“He can’t be having sex,” Mom whispers, stricken.
“He grew up fast,” I say gently. “You know that. You’re actually lucky he didn’t start sooner.”
Will is her baby, though, so I know this is difficult for her to hear.
Mom leans back against a work bench, like she needs the support to keep her upright. Maybe she does. She’s a leaner, not a supporter.
“I’ve been a bad mom to you boys,” she says in a pained tone.
I don’t want to lie, but I don’t have it in me to be brutal. I choose to go with a half-truth. “You did the best you could, Mom.”
She sometimes did.
We look at each other meaningfully for a few seconds, and then she says, “You don’t have to say things that aren’t true to try and make me feel better, Chase.”
I let out a long, tired breath. “Still, the past is the past. Not much we can do about it now.”
My mom touches my forearm. “Honey, I should never have sent you away.” She sighs deeply. “You ended up in prison, for God’s sake.”
“You helped me get out early,
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