Page 27 of Sharp Lies

I SPOONED THE GREEN beans into a bowl and took that and the plate full of hot dogs and hamburgers to the table. Then I stared at it, trying to figure out how to fit more on the table. We already had a basket full of buns, corn on the cob, green salad, potato salad, pasta salad, and rolls with butter. This was a big house, but it had only been my mom before, so she hadn’t bothered with any table big enough for anyone besides her.

We were officially out of room.

I pulled the sideboard over and started rearranging, putting the hot dogs, buns, and hamburgers on the main table and all the sides and salads down the side table. We couldn’t fit everything on the main table, and at least this way it made it look like I’d arranged it that way on purpose.

When I looked up, I found that my mother had wheeled her way into the dining room to watch me and was looking at the table with what could only be called amusement.

“Was it really necessary to cook that much? You know we’ll never eat it.”

I snapped my fingers under her nose. “Everything here will make great leftovers, and you know it. Besides, it’s been a long time since I was home for a holiday. I missed the cooking.”

She gave me a long look. “It’s been too long since you were home for a holiday.”

I bit my lip. That was the honest truth, though I was doing my best not to feel guilty about it. I’d left five years ago and stayed away, even though I knew my mom might be lonely. Yes, I’d missed her every one of those days, but I’d been enjoying my carefree life so much that I’d never even considered coming back.

Now I regretted that decision. I’d missed five years with my mom and friends, and all because I’d been out on the road trying to ignore what had happened to me here. I’d been worried about coming back, true enough, because I’d been sure Tony and his dad would make trouble for me. And the sequence of events since I’d gotten back had proved that they would indeed make trouble.

But I’d survive that the same way I survived everything else. I’d power through it. I knew that now, and I wished I’d known it before. Because I should have been here to protect my mom. My aunt shouldn’t have had to call me to tell me what happened.

I hated that I’d been gone instead of here.

I leaned down and kissed my mom softly on the forehead. “From now on, you’ll see so much of me on holidays that you’ll get tired of it,” I promised. “Because I’m not leaving town again.”

This brought a soft, genuine smile to her lips. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Then let’s see how much of this food we can get through.”

I moved one of the chairs so she could pull up to the table—something we’d perfected within the first day of her being home—and then sat down to her right so I could help her reach anything she needed. My mom was feeling pretty spry, but I would have been lying if I said she was able to do things on her own yet. She was still chairbound unless I was helping her, and the broken ribs made it hard for her to reach far.

Still. We were getting by, figuring things out as we went.

I loaded a hot dog with chili for her and then scooped plenty of potato salad—her favorite—onto the plate.

“Green beans too!” she said, watching me.

I lifted an eyebrow. “Since when do you like green beans? I thought I made those just for me.”

“My doctor said I should start eating healthier,” she said, shrugging like this was just another conversation.

I laughed. My mother had never been a fan of fruits and vegetables unless they were in a pie, though you never would have guessed it to look at her. The woman had the metabolism of a goddess and could eat whatever she wanted without ever gaining a pound.

Still, if she was going to get healthier, I wasn’t going to stop her. I spooned a healthy helping of green beans onto her plate and set it in front of her, then got to work on mine. I’d made some of my favorite dishes, and since this was the only meal we’d really eaten today, I was going to take full advantage of it.

***

THE FIREWORKS STARTED when we were halfway through dinner, and Silver started howling the moment they did.

“I thought she was well-traveled,” my mom huffed as we rushed for the bathroom where the dog had hidden.

“Well-traveled and a fan of fireworks are two different things,” I said, falling behind my mom to keep from getting run over. Silver was my dog, but my mom had decided she was essentially a grandchild and went out of her way to take care of her. She seemed more concerned about the howling and crying than I was, and I didn’t want to get in the way of those wheels.

I’d made that mistake once. I wouldn’t make it again.

She practically skidded around the corner and shot into the bathroom, and by the time I got in there, she had Silver huddled in her lap and was crooning to her. “Easy, girl,” she said quietly. “I know what you mean. I don’t like them either.” She looked up at me, her eyes wide. “Is there anything we can do?”

I went to my knees next to the two of them. “Not really. I’ve tried anti-anxiety meds, but they don’t help her. This fear is bigger than meds, evidently.”

“Did something happen to her before you got her?”