Page 3 of True North

“Don’t apologize,” I insisted, joining her on the squashy, over-stuffed loveseat. That was one of the reasons moving back home wasn’t a hardship. Every piece of furniture in this house was like one big, comfy hug. That was just Cheryl Maxwell.

All the mismatched pieces of furniture in the house were covered in fluffy throw pillows and cozy blankets. Every room was painted in a different bright gemstone color, and even the walls were covered in silky soft macramé art. My mom was all the things you’d think an old-school hippie would be. From peasant blouses, to long flowy maxi skirts, to communing with nature, and welcoming the new moon every month. Which basically meant finding her and a lot of her other menopausal lady friends naked, chanting in the backyard around a fire.

Thank goodness we lived on the outskirts of town, or the neighbors would have a field day, calling the cops and fire department on a bunch of old, naked hippies.

She kicked her feet up on the glass-topped coffee table in front of us and hooked her arm through mine, snuggling into my side. She let out a sputtering cough and waved away the last of the pot smoke. “Leave it to me to wait until cancer to discover the benefits of a reefer.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” I asked in a teasing tone. “I’m surprised they haven’t revoked your membership card. What’s the hippie version of that? No more granola and Berkenstocks for the rest of your life?”

“Oh, you.” She shoved the sharp point of her elbow into my ribs.

“Ow!” I laughed. “Well, your strength is coming back, that’s for sure,” I said, shooting her a mock glare as I rubbed at the sore spot.

“Oh, you’re fine. I barely tapped you.” She waved off my pout, unmoved by it. Though that could be because I’d used it so often during my teen years, she’d become desensitized to it. “So tell me, what brings you home early, baby girl?”

I let out another sigh (this day seemed to be full of them) and sank deeper into the cushions, letting them surround me like a comforting embrace as I explained the earlier ordeal with my client.

Concern washed over my mother’s expression before I finished, and I could practically feel the worry radiating off her. “Rissy, honey, I’m not sure that job is safe enough for you.”

I understood why she would worry so much, after all, she’d been the one to have to help me put the broken pieces of myself back together in the past, but I waved her off. She had enough on her plate to worry about without taking on my drama.

“It’s perfectly safe, Mom.” I tried my best to sound reassuring, though I wasn’t quite sure I believed it myself anymore. “I promise.”

She didn’t seem convinced. “I don’t know, baby. It just seems like a lot of hassle to have to deal with for a job that doesn’t make you happy.”

I fought to suppress my eye roll. “I’m perfectly happy there,” I lied. “I’ve told you that a thousand times.”

It was my mother’s turn to wave me off. “Lie to me all you want, Iris Citrine Maxwell. You can try lying to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to me. I see it.”

“Mom, my aura has not gotten darker,” I argued, that earlier exhaustion coming back with a vengeance.

“Oh yes, it damn well has, but even if I couldn’t read your aura loud and clear, I still know my daughter, and I can see it, baby girl. That job doesn’t fill your cup.”

Okay, so she wasn’t that far off the mark. It didn’t fill me up, but what it did was pay my mother’s medical bills, and to me, that was reason enough to put up with arrogant clients and undertones of misogyny within the office.

Sinking deeper into the cushions, I tipped my head back and let it rest of the back of the loveseat. “Mom, I’m too tired to have this argument with you again.”

“At least tell me you still have that black tourmaline and amethyst I gave you for protection.”

My mother’s definition of being over-protective might have looked a bit different than other moms out there, but it was still plenty smothering all the same. “Yes, Mom. The crystals are tucked safely in my purse.”

If it made my mom feel good to give me protection charms and crystals to ward off negative energy, I wasn’t going to take that away from her, but I had backup plans just in case, in the form of a can of pepper spray and a small Taser I kept by the crystals she believed in so much.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, desperate to change the topic and turn her focus off me. “I’ll start dinner in a second, just let me change real quick.”

I started to get up when she spoke. “Actually, Clara is coming over for a visit.” Clara was one of my mom’s oldest friends and had been a godsend after she got sick. When my dad proved to be a loser and took off on us when I was ten years old, Clara had stepped up to help my mom any way she could. The same happened when Mom got sick.

I did as much as I possibly could on my own, taking care of my sick, frail mother when she’d been at her worst, but without me having to ask, Clara sensed I was struggling to do it all by myself, so she’d stepped in, taking some of the burden off my shoulders and being a constant source of laughter for Mom when she needed it most.

“We thought that maybe you needed a night out with people your own age.” She waggled her thin, wispy brows at me. She’d taken to wearing colorful silk scarves to shield her bald head once the hair fell out, but there wasn’t much to do about the brows. If she felt up for it, she’d fill them in to go out in public, but here at home, she didn’t bother. “Preferably of the male and muscular variety.”

I didn’t bother hiding my eye roll that time. “Ah, I see. So you’re kicking me out?”

Mom rose to her feet, taking my face in her hands and tipping my head back to place a kiss on my forehead. “Oh, don’t pretend to be insulted. Besides, tonight’s a full moon. You really want to stick around and get an eye-full of me and Clara in the buff?”

Not a chance in hell.

“I’ll just go get changed. A burger from Toni’s sounds a hell of a lot better than that, anyway.”