A cloud
covered the moon, and the room darkened. I’d been so busy trying to clean up
before Mom got home that I hadn’t had time to reflect. But the adrenaline rush
was completely gone now, and it seemed like it was someone else earlier and not
me. Part of me wished Bob were still alive, and we could all be a family
together. Part of me knew that was right, the way it was supposed to be. But I
had an image of myself with my feet hanging over the edge of my bed listening
to Mom and Bob behind her closed door. I
sometimes thought I would explode – when that door was closed.
I missed a speck of
blood on the foot of Bob’s chair, so I got the Oxiclean out of the cupboard
again – just in time too, cause I could hear Mom’s car pull up. The first thing
Mom did, before she even put the groceries away, was to ask where Bob was. “His car’s not here,” she said, her voice an octave too high.
(Bob? He’s in the
garden underneath the roses. And his car is in the landfill on fire, or at
least it was last I saw.)
But what I said was, “His
brother called. He needed him.”
Her jaw relaxed. If there
were a reason he might skip out like that on this of all nights, a call for
help from Bob’s little brother might just be it.
But still she phoned
him. Her call went straight to mail.
“He’s camping
somewhere in the desert. No reception probably,” I said. “That’s what he said
his brother does. Camps in the middle of
nowhere like that.“
Mom felt more for Bob
than her other boyfriends, I knew that.
“I know but…
“He left in a hurry. It was an emergency. He’ll call as soon as he can. Don’t worry Mom. Let’s just have the dinner you planned, and you can tell me your news, and I’m sure Bob will call later.”
“Okay,” she
said, and she started to put the groceries away again. That’s when she saw it.
Bob’s
razor. I had taken care of every detail, put all his things in his car before I
got rid of it, cleaned every speck on the chairs and floor. But I’d left Bob’s
straight-edged razor in the kitchen sink, still stained with his blood.
Mom dropped
the grocery bag on the counter and walked toward her bedroom, her phone still
in her other hand. My stomach tightened.
She seemed to be moving in slow motion. Just before she entered her bedroom,
she turned around and looked at me.
She left
the door open.
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