Benevolence [H.S.]

Chapter Two

A wave of nostalgia washes over me as I stand in front of our mailbox. The packed-earth driveway hasn't changed, save for a few sun crippled weeds here and there. I haven't been home since Christmas. One long breath in followed by a slow exhale and I'm crunching up toward the front steps. Mom mustn't have noticed my arrival yet or she'd already be waving me in from the porch. I smile at the overflowing begonia basket, still going strong after three Summers, spilling from the eaves under the wraparound. We don't agree on much, but flowers are something we've always adored together.

I plop the three suitcases under the foyer window before opening the screen door. Not bothering to knock, I immediately regret this decision as my entrance just about shoves my mother's soul from her body. With a yelp, she drops a whole casserole dish she'd just removed from the oven onto the penny-tile floor. Blue glass and some form of steaming protein and noodles shatter at her feet. She reaches to grasp the oven door in a reflexive movement for support, and of course burns herself. This all happens within .37 seconds of me coming through the front door. Fantastic start, Benny.

"Shit mama!" I exclaim as she sucks in a breath and whirls around, clutching her forearm.

"Benny! Good lord you scared me!"

I run to her side, snapping up a hand towel and running it under the sink on my way.

"I'm so sorry, I should have knocked." I say in a rush as I wrap the cold, damp linen around her wrist.

I test the pressure of the wrap before meeting my mother's eyes and smiling apologetically. As mom's will do, however, she just pulls me into a hug. Standing there in the epicenter of a glass and unidentified pasta catastrophe, it's good to know her hugs feel exactly the same.

"So...Shepherds pie tonight then?"

I grin sheepishly "my favorite."

After numerous assurances that her arm isn't going to fall off, I let mama lead me back to my old room. She's spruced it up a bit but for some reason has kept my ceramic shoe collection. They were one of those passing fancies as a kid, you know, where you tell a family member you like something once and suddenly that's all you're associated with for the next fifteen Christmases.

Cheesy as they are, though...they still make me smile. Secretly, of course.

"I had Duncan move grandma's bed out before he left, figured you could use the extra room for storage."

That one stings a bit. I glance at the space where the creaky white iron bed used to sit so snug against the far wall. Memories suddenly flood the room, cresting slow and bittersweet in my chest. I'd shared this room with my grandmother when she first started to get sick, I was maybe fifteen then. I can see her now, lying on her side with a book under her nose and pen in hand. Every now and then she'd catch me staring at the controversial covers of her latest read and give me a wink. "Women can do more than any man ever could, Benny dear. Don't you ever forget that."

Friday nights, without fail, I'd help her down the stairs after mama went to bed so she could have one of her "secret cigars." Mama knew, but she never said a word. She let her have those moments. I guess when you're dying people tend to turn a blind eye to your supposed transgressions.

"It looks good mom. I'm sure I can fit everything in the closet just fine, though. I didn't bring much."

I noticed her suddenly sheepish look just about the same time I saw the daisy patterned curtain hanging where a closet door used to be. I narrowed my eyes "What's this over here?"