Mother love

Frontiers, 1999 by Eason, Alethea

Sam knows I'm still mad at him for not letting me take over Jesse's job, though I haven't said another word about it. He's been real sweet, but I've stopped kissing him. I have almost eight hundred dollars. I work like a demon, constantly budgeting, trying to figure out what I can afford to buy Tommy for Christmas.

Sam was right. We're going to have to repair from the ground up, but we just got word the company's pulling out of the rest of the California jobs.

I don't want to spend money on gas just to get out of here, but I feel crazy. On a day I don't have to work, I wake up at four and drive to Fresno. Frank's the only one awake when I get there, still in his pajamas.

We sit at the breakfast nook while I pour my heart out. Frank stirs sugar in his coffee, looking at the spoon with his pale blue eyes.

"We'd be glad to take care of you and Tommy while you go to school," he says.

I check myself before I say, no way, I can take care of myself, I've never let you help before. It's on my tongue like fire, but Frank's not the one I want to hurt.

Mother flounces in wearing a yellow peignoir, already heavily made up, holding Lucy in the crook of her arm. Frank loves her. Frank's okay. There must be something I've forgotten about her, something for me to love I have forgotten how to see.

Tiny feet slap in slippers as she walks over to kiss my cheek. As I give it to her, she says, "You look so strong and healthy, Patrice. The work you're doing suits a big girl like you," and I wonder if she has ever left the carnival, if she has left a red bull's-eye on my cheek with her lips.

I say nothing, but go to Tommy's room. The sheets have pastel flowers and twist around his body. I climb in next to him and stay until he wakes.

Tonight the lights of the traffic are like the midway Mother walked the eve of my birth. Sam doesn't wake when I come into the room. He sleeps like a stuffed animal for sale, his face toward the wall. I turn on the bathroom light and write the note that's been inside my head all day. I pack my things and walk out the door, going home to Mother, doing what my big bones tell me.