For the Love of Ash (7 page)

"I'm paying you. That's it. Get home safe!" I smiled at her.

"I'm down the street, Maggie," she drawled, deadpanned, rolling her light eyes at me. She hiked her backpack over her shoulder. I leaned against the doorframe and watched her run down the step and cross the deserted street towards her parents' mansion. When she was gone, I went back inside and shut the front door.

"Right," I muttered as I went back to Ash in the kitchen. I grabbed a slice of the meaty pizza, picking off the extra olives, and sat across from my boy. He was too busy eating to talk much. He fingered the DVD, picking at the plastic wrap with one hand while he held his pizza in the other. Sometimes I just liked looking at him. My parents must have had some strong genes, because Ash and I were identical in nearly every way.

"Where are you going?" I asked as he jumped up from the table, his mouth still full of half-chewed pizza. He shook his head, trying to talk. I raised my eyebrows as he stopped and dramatically chewed his food, making an emphasis with his mouth's movements. When he finished what was in his mouth, he spoke.
 

"Movie!" He smiled at me, cocking his head, and then rushed into the living room. I didn't bother cleaning up the food in the kitchen. I took a final bite of my slice and brought the crust with me to nibble on the couch.

Asher finally broke the DVD free of its wrapping and handed me the disc, holding it carefully with his pointer in the middle circle. I popped the disc into the old DVD player my grandparents gave me and started the movie. Asher forced me to watch with him, and by forced, I mean he widened his light green eyes, stuck out his ruby bottom lip, and begged like a puppy. I couldn't deny his beautiful face, despite the work I had to do tonight, so I sat next to him.
 

Luckily, Chris Pratt was in the movie, so I could just stare at him, imagining myself in another life as his wife. Asher nestled into my side and I fast forwarded through the previews. The music from the opening scene began, and Asher quieted, his breath evening as he leaning onto my chest. I fingered pieces of Asher's hair, twirling them around my pointer finger.

About halfway through the long movie, Asher fell asleep against my side. The thumb that was nestled between his lips fell onto my lap, and I knew that he was out cold. And of course, he left a slobbering mess on my lap that turned my jeans nearly black.

The apartment could only fit the two of us. It had two bedrooms that were both no bigger than the closet that I had growing up at my parents'. Asher's room there was nearly three times the size of his here. If he noticed, he never said anything, and I didn't get that vibe. This was enough for the two of us. I refused to taint our life with my inheritance. Instead, I shoved that in an account for Asher in case he ever needed it.

I laid Asher back along the sofa so he was more comfortable and began to shut down for the night. I began in the kitchen, which was easy tonight. I grabbed the pizza box and folded it up. I took the remaining slices and threw them in Ziploc baggies and then on the top shelf of the fridge. I put the two dishes in the washer, along with a few cups I found lying around the house. I grabbed the squished pizza box and ran outside, throwing it in the curbside bin so that it wouldn't stink up the whole house.

After I shut off the kitchen lights, I gathered Asher in my arms. I rested his head on my chest, and my arms supported his back and legs. I took the small staircase leading upstairs slow, using the wood railing to support my back while I hefted the kid up.
 

 
Since Asher and I moved here, I always worried about slipping on the hardwood floors. But I loved them too much to cover them with a runner. My parents' house was mostly wood floors and some tiling that was shiny, too. It was one of my few things I loved about that house.
 

My parents were well off, more so than they deserved to be. Most of the money was inherited from their parents or stolen from dirty business deals. My dad was a bad guy—a cheat, or crook, or whatever you want to call it. I didn't have many positive memories that had to do with them, but the house exceeded any place I could ever dream of owning. As a kid, it was playtime heaven. My friends and I would throw things down the laundry shoot, skate down the long greased-up hallways and play outside by the Olympic-sized pool.

Asher deserved something like that. He deserved to have positive memories and people who loved him. I couldn't do the house, but I tried hard to give him the experiences.

I pushed through his bedroom door, coated in various superhero stickers, with my butt and laid him down on his bed. He turned over, snuggling into the
Galaxy
-printed covers as I tried to get him comfortable and changed.
 

Cars and trucks littered the floor, and as I maneuvered around his bed, I tried not to trip or step on them. I pulled off his socks, and luckily, he was in sweat pants, which he could sleep in no problem.
 

I should have woken him up to brush his teeth and wash his face, but I just didn't have it in me. I made a mental note to make sure that he did an extra good job in the morning and used floss and mouthwash. That should make up for it. Right?

As I pulled the navy blue covers up to his chin, I couldn't resist the urge to kiss him. I leaned forward, trying not to rustle him too much, and planted a kiss right on his soft forehead.
 

"I love you," I whispered, running my hand over his forehead, fixing his sweaty hair back. In that moment, I knew that this was what content felt like. Asher's face was completely relaxed, his body in the fetal position. There was a slight lift to his lips like he was dreaming of happy things.

"I love you too, Mom." My stomach twisted in an overwhelmingly full way, almost like I might be sick. He turned over, away from me and towards the window, and pulled the blanket higher up so it nearly covered his entire face. His thumb found its way back into his mouth. I quietly left the room wishing that I could go to bed and dream, but my night was far from over.

It was already after the first of the month, when most of my bills were due, and I had to go through my checking and credit cards to make sure that everything went through on time and was paid. I didn't have an office or a desk, so after I changed into yoga pants and a raggedy tee-shirt with my high school mascot's face, I went downstairs with my bill bag and sat at the kitchen table.
 

I rummaged through the cloth Stop and Shop bag and gathered all of the bills from the month and laid them out, one after the other after the other. My ears started ringing as more and more bills surfaced. I sagged against the chair as I felt the constricting hands of financial pressure, but I knew I had to power through. I wouldn't take the easy way out. I had to be able to do this on my own, or why would I bother?

The one good thing about living in the town my college was in was that the dean knew my family and allowed me to pay for the semester on a monthly payment plan, which wasn't a normal occurrence. But it was still far from an easy bill to pay. However, my car insurance, health insurance, and Asher's hockey were close behind.
 

By the time I had organized what was due and when, my mind numbed and tuned out. I found that I stared blankly at the kitchen light that cast a dim yellow glare on the room. My sight blurred from staring so long. My eyes burned, too, most likely bloodshot and droopy.
 

I glanced at the white clock on the wall right beside the refrigerator and saw that it was almost midnight. I had spent hours on these damn bills. I piled them up and put them back into the grocery bag. I would have to waste another night finishing up, but I just couldn't do it tonight.

I grabbed a cigarette and lighter from my bag next to the front door and quietly snuck outside. Asher's room was at the back of the house, so I knew that the smell wouldn't get to him. I had become a pro at sneaking around my own house.

I lit up and leaned against the wrought iron railing. The hard metal bit into my skin, but I didn't move, too tired to even adjust myself in the slightest. I always left the front door open just a crack. I had this strange dream where I went outside to smoke and suddenly my house caught on fire. But the door locked behind me, and I couldn't get in to save Asher.
 

It still haunted me.
 

I finished off my cigarette and threw it into the road, hoping it was far enough away that it wouldn't look like mine. I shuffled through the house, shutting off lights as I went. I washed my hands in the kitchen sink and then walked up the stairs to my bedroom. My legs ached, my joints begging to be put to rest. I was a mess.

I had the master bedroom of the house, but again, it couldn't even pass as a rich person's closet. I painted it Barnyard Yellow in hopes that the light tones would put me into a better mood. Home and Garden told me the shade would be an anti-depressant. The jury was still out on whether they were right or not.
 

I loved my full-sized bed. The down comforter had a yellow, white, and black striped slip cover over it to protect it against dirt. That was the only thing that matched the walls. Everything else, the dressers and tables, were mismatched in every way. The bedside table was shiny black, about my hips' height. The dresser was tall and black, but matte, different in its own way. And my other table was cherry wood, short, only hitting the middle of the thigh.

I wanted to dive under the covers and never surface, but I had to brush my teeth and wash my face first. Unlike Asher, I would break out and get a cavity. The urge to skip it was astronomical, but I had just smoked, so I knew I had to stop being so lazy and grow up.

We only had one bathroom, right between our rooms on the upper level. It was the only one in the entire house so having people over wasn't really a possibility. It had a shower bath combo in one corner and double sinks and toilet on the other wall.
 

I painted this room a light blue, similar to a clear sky at six am, bright yet calm. My grandma sent me a gift card to Bed, Bath, and Beyond after the custody hearings went through, so I bought matching towels and bathmats.
 

We had a nightlight on the sink counter, right underneath the large rectangular mirror. I found the shell shape and light white glow calming. I flicked it on in case Asher woke up in the middle of the night and then ran back to my room after I got ready for bed.
 

I climbed up onto the bed and folded myself into the fetal position under the cool covers. I shut the light off, blanketing the room in total darkness. I hated the dark, completely afraid of it, but it was the only way I could sleep.
 

Just as I was dozing off, my cellphone began ringing from the side of my bed. The annoying ringtone screamed at me until I hit unlock and put it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello, dear. I hope I didn't wake you!" Margo said; my grandmother's voice was way too loud, like she'd been drinking, which was a real possibility. I never saw her without a gin and tonic. I sat up and flicked on the light by the table.
 

"I'm up now. What is it?" I rubbed my eyes with the back of my palm and fixed the pillow behind my back so I was more comfortable.

"I wanted to schedule our monthly meeting. You know the court says you have to agree."

"I know." She never let me forget. "When do you want to do it?" I put the phone on speaker and opened my calendar app so I could put her in. Meeting with her was like a doctor's appointment at which you knew you were getting a hundred shots.
 

"How about Wednesday?"
 

"This Wednesday?" I asked as I looked down at my work schedule.
 

"Unless that isn't suitable. I can call the lawyer and see if he can bend the rules."

"No, Grandmother. It's fine. But you'll have to come to my house. I have work, and Asher comes with me. I can make dinner for us, if you want." I loved how she threatened me in a such a backwards way.
 

"How many times have I told you to call me Margo, dear? Do try to tidy up, though. Last time I came to the house it was a wreck. Maybe I should hire you a nice cleaner to come once a day. Asher could eat something off the floor and get sick."

"Asher is nine, Margo. I don't think he's at risk for eating small parts. And I don't need a cleaner. I have it under control." I was trying to keep my cool, but with her constant misplaced sentiments, my patience was dwindling. Just like the Bed and Bath gift card, this was just a backhanded diss.

"My house is always open to the two of you," she said, and then the phone clicked off. I wanted to throw the fucking thing across the room, but I placed it nicely on the bedside table, shut the light off, and then cried myself to sleep.
 

Chapter Seven

Luke

I unlocked the door to Lindsay's apartment, and immediately the wafting smell of vanilla sugar cookies hit me. I flicked on the light switch next to the door and dropped my duffel bag on the hardwood floor. I wasn't really familiar with her place, but I'd been here enough times to know the basic premise. She rearranged her furniture more than I did my laundry.