Beauty and the Mustache (13 page)

It didn’t matter who else
was in the room. Her coworker friends from the library stopped by
for a visit, during which my momma urgently told me, “The
angleworms aren’t anxious for the fish to bite.”

Her minister dropped in to
check on the family, and Momma wouldn’t let go of my hand until
she’d said, “You’ll lose your grip if you put too much spit on your
hands.”

One time she said, “When
your kids tell you they have tummy aches, ask them if they’ve
pooped yet. It’s usually just constipation.”

Another time it was, “Happiness and
rheumatism keep getting bigger if you tell people about them.”

And another, “Fear don’t count if you really
want something.”

I couldn’t figure out if
she was pulling my leg with this stuff or if she was serious, so I
decided to tell her corny jokes. Stuff like:

“
How does the ocean say
hello to the shore… it gives it a little wave.”

“
How can you tell the sun
doesn’t feel good… it’s not so hot.”

I needed to hear her
laugh. When she laughed, it felt like it was okay for me to
laugh—and I needed to laugh.

This time, however, I
didn’t tell her a joke, because her eyes were hazy and
unfocused.

I nodded, reached my hand
up to her cheek, and brushed a few hairs from her temple. “I will
remember to wear a pleasant expression as well as deodorant and
clean underwear at all times. I promise.”

“
Also, baby, you need to
stop hovering. When was the last time you left this
room?”

I shushed her. “I’m here
to take care of you and spend time with you. This is where I want
to be.”

She grimaced and squeezed
her eyes shut, her breathing short and rattled. I blinked away the
stinging moisture in my eyes as I watched her struggle through the
wave of pain. Her fingers gripped mine like a lifeline.

I studied her morphine
drip and found it full. This was distressing, as Marissa had
replaced the bag several hours ago.

“
Momma, if you’re in pain,
you need to use your button.” I kept my voice low and
temperate.

She shook her head. “It
makes me feel groggy. I don’t want to sleep…not yet.”

I inhaled a shaky breath
and gritted my teeth. She moaned. It was a horrible sound and made
me feel completely helpless. Movement at the door caught my
attention. I looked up to find Duane and Beau hovering in the
doorway.

Their eyes were wide as
their gazes moved from Momma to me then back again.

“
What’s wrong? What can we
do?” Beau stepped forward and placed his hand on my mother’s
forehead.

“
She’s in a lot of pain,”
I explained, and then I looked at Duane. “Will you get her some ice
chips?”

Duane hesitated for a
moment then disappeared. I decided that I would move a cooler into
the room for her ice chips, just in case she needed them and I was
by myself.

“
What about the medicine?”
Beau was all restrained energy, his expression mirroring the
helplessness I felt.

“
She….” I was going to
explain that she wasn’t pressing the button for the morphine pump,
but instead I swallowed. It felt wrong talking about her like she
wasn’t in the room. I squeezed my mother’s hand. “Momma, will you
please take your medicine? Press the button.”

She shook her head, her face pale, her mouth
a tight line.

Moments like this made me
wish desperately for the advice and comfort of my friends. Saying
goodbye to Sandra and Elizabeth had been really
difficult.

They’d stayed for three
days. While Sandra and Elizabeth were here, I’d gratefully allowed
Sandra to become the emotional center of the household while I
retreated into the safety and comfort of my eReader and novels.
She’d stayed up late, talking to one or more of the boys—or,
rather, men—helping them work through and come to terms with the
painful reality of losing their mother.

She’d also helped me, as
had Elizabeth, by encouraging me to go on walks, help with dinner,
take a shower…brush my teeth.

It was now a week after
their departure, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d bathed.
It was definitely on a day that started with a T. I couldn’t bring
myself to leave the den. I couldn’t stand the thought of Momma
needing me and me not being there.

Beau’s eyes were somewhat
wild as they moved over her face then down the length of the bed.
His attention focused on the corded white remote with the red
button on the end, the button my mother refused to
press.

Beau picked it up and
pushed the button several times. Then he looked up at me, his
expression a strange mixture of defiant and apologetic.

I sighed and closed my
eyes, grateful that he’d done it, because I hadn’t been ready to
take the choice away from her.

“
Is everything
okay?”

I opened my eyes to find
Jethro and Cletus walking into the room. Duane was behind them
holding a cup filled with ice chips.

Jethro stood next to Beau
and frowned at the remote in his hand then he looked at me. “What
happened?”

I shrugged. When I finally
spoke, my voice was shaky and my chin was wobbling, but I didn’t
cry. “Momma wouldn’t press the button.”

My mother’s tight
expression was easing, her jaw unclenching, and her grip on me was
growing slack.

Jethro nodded, looking
grave. “Ash, why don’t you take a break?”

I shook my head, my eyes
on Momma. “I’m fine. I was just reading a book.”

“
Ash….”

Something about Jethro’s
tone, the way he said my name, made me look up. His eyes bored into
mine, but they were compassionate. “Go take a shower.”

I swallowed my automatic
decline and nodded, gently laying my mother’s limp hand on the bed.
Jethro’s grave expression, the set of his jaw, the hardness in his
brown eyes told me I wasn’t going to refuse his
“suggestion.”

Mindlessly, I went
upstairs and quickly did as instructed. But I was really just going
through the motions. Nothing about it felt cleansing or necessary.
My heart was still downstairs, twisted up and bruised and refusing
pain medication.

After drying off and
changing into mostly clean yoga pants and a black T-shirt that
didn’t smell, I descended the stairs, intent on getting back to the
den and my now permanent spot in the recliner by Momma’s bed. I was
going through my mental checklist: How much had she eaten today?
How much had she slept?

I turned the corner to the
den and caught the tail end of a hushed conversation. The hallway
was clogged with six Winston boys and one Drew Runous.

“…
Like I said, don’t worry
about it, Billy. You all have enough on your mind without having to
think about the bills.” Drew’s voice was infinitely calm, yet he
also sounded uncomfortable.

“
You’re paying them
yourself.” Billy’s voice was a tad frustrated. “That’s not right,
Drew.”

“
I’ll reimburse myself
later.”

“
No you won’t. You’ll just
pay for everything.” I peeked around the doorframe and saw that
Billy didn’t look upset; in fact, he looked grateful and
good-naturedly irritated. “I called the bank and checked the
schedule. I know you’ve already covered the car payment and the
electric bill for this month and next.”

Drew sighed. “I don’t want
to argue about this, Billy.”

Billy laughed lightly. “Are we arguing?”

“
Hey, Ash,” Jethro
said.

My eyes flickered to my
oldest brother, who was frowning as he held my gaze. In fact, the
lot of them were all frowning and standing a little straighter and
stiffer. Drew, however, wasn’t looking at me at all; his attention
was affixed to the wall behind Billy’s head.

Sandra and Elizabeth’s
worries about Drew had proved to be completely unfounded. He hadn’t
made any advances of any sort, nor had he subjected me to any
further Nietzsche quotes. We hadn’t even engaged in any stink-eye
stalemates.

Although, to be fair, it’s
hard to stare at someone who isn’t there or who won’t make eye
contact. Drew visited Momma, but he seemed to have a talent for
only coming by when I was elsewhere or asleep. For my part, I was
noticing him less and less, even when he showed up hot and sweaty
after a workout.

“
Hi.” I gave them a
tight-lipped smile and a little wave. “What’s going on?”

“
Are you hungry?” This
question came from Cletus. “Cause Drew brought food.”

I gave sweet Cletus a
smile and shook my head. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

“
You didn’t eat
breakfast,” Billy said. He was scowling at me.

I thought about this,
realized he was right.

Not eating breakfast was
very atypical behavior for me. I’d never, ever, ever, ever been the
girl who skipped meals. In fact, I liked to plan my workdays and
vacations around food. I was a foodie through and through. I didn’t
mind more junk in the trunk (or up front) if it meant cookies every
day. But over the last week, nothing had tasted good.

“
Okay….” I hesitated,
glanced at the door to the den.

Surprising me, Drew came
over to where I was standing in the doorway and placed his hands on
my waist like he wasn’t going to let me pass. He captured my gaze
with his; then his attention flickered between my eyes and my mouth
as he said quietly, “She’s asleep, Sugar. You need a break. Come
eat something.”

His closeness, his warm
hands on my body, the way he was looking at me with his steely
eyes, the softness of his tone when he called me Sugar—it all
pushed at some part of me that had been dormant for days. I elbowed
the awakening sensations aside, wanting to focus on my
mother.

“
What if she wakes up?” I
challenged. “I don’t want her to be alone.”

“
I’ll sit with Momma,”
Beau said sheepishly. His expression told me he felt some guilt for
forcing pain meds on her. I wanted to tell him I was glad he’d done
it. As soon as the thought entered my head, I felt
guilty.

“
I’ll sit with her too,”
Roscoe volunteered.

Jethro stepped forward and
tugged on my elbow, pulling me out of Drew’s hold, which tightened
before he let me go. “Come on, Ash,” my brother pleaded. “It’s
fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Maybe you could call your friend
Sandra and have a chat.”

I let Jethro lead me into
the kitchen, and the entire Winston brood—plus Drew, minus Beau and
Roscoe—followed.

“
I can’t, actually. My
phone doesn’t get reception out here, there’s no house phone, and
there’s no Internet, so I can’t use Skype.” I said this flatly,
without recrimination.

“
Why don’t you use Momma’s
cell?”

“
I can’t find it. It
wasn’t with her things when she came back from the hospital.” The
situation was not easily fixable so I’d decided to do nothing about
it. None of the houses in Green Valley had Internet unless they had
a satellite dish. There was no point in asking for a satellite
hookup since I wasn’t staying very long.

“
You can use my phone,”
Jethro offered. “Or Billy’s, or any of them.”

I shrugged. “Nah. That’s
all right.” I didn’t really have the energy to think about
it.

“
You haven’t talked to
your friends all week?” Duane moved to the cabinet and grabbed a
stack of plates. “That don’t seem right. Don’t y’all see each other
every week?”

I nodded. “Sometimes I
meet them for lunch at the hospital during the week. But, yeah,
Tuesday is the day we all get together. We meet up and knit and
crochet, and of course we talk.”

“
Tomorrow is Tuesday.”
Cletus placed a pile of forks and knives on the counter. “You’re
going to miss your time if we can’t get you on the
Internet.”

“
Don’t worry about it.” I
glanced around the kitchen, not feeling particularly invested in
the conversation. My eyes landed on Drew and found him standing off
to one side, removed from everyone else, looking at his cell phone
as if he were reading a text. For some random reason, I wondered
who his cell phone company was.

“
Hey, Ash, Momma’s talking
about someone named Jackson.” Roscoe said this from the doorway.
“Do you know who she means? She keeps asking if you’re out with
Jackson.”

“
Is she awake?” I moved
toward the doorway, but Roscoe blocked my path.

“
No, Ash. You need to eat.
She’s not really awake, just talking in her sleep, I
think.”

“
She’s
not talking about Jack
Jackson
James, is she—that little
twerp who followed you around?” Billy asked this as he put napkins
at the place settings on the table.

“
He wasn’t a twerp. He was
my best friend.” I crossed my arms over my chest, but felt only a
slight twinge of defensiveness.

Jackson and I had been
best friends all through school partly because I’d never been very
good at making friends with other girls. He and I just got along so
well because we were both oddball social outcasts. In my experience
growing up in small Hicksville nowhere Tennessee, little girls were
mean, adolescent girls were cruel, and teenage girls were
ruthless—but that was probably true everywhere.