The Arrangement

1

On Monday night I got a call from my mother. It was after ten, which in my book was an unreasonable time to phone. But I'd always imposed restrictions on other people's interference with my life, restrictions they often didn't understand and considered stupid. I rarely slept before midnight but did not like to remain open for contact after ten, it was my code and screw whoever didn't like it.
I was therefore pissed off when my mother's number started flashing at close to eleven while I was watching The Mick with a mudpack on my face. I ignored the first call but my hopes were dashed when she called a second time and I answered.

"Hi, Mum," I said, both irritated and glum.
"Elise, I have a favour to ask." The good thing about my mother was that she didn't beat around the bush, but this was a new one, a late night phone call to ask for a favour? Troubling thoughts tripped around my imagination.

"Is something wrong? What do you need?"
"Yes, something is most definitely wrong." The thoughts multiplied and dispersed.
"Is it Dad?" I asked her tensely. "Is he...?"
She grunted with scorn. "Don't be ridiculous. Your father will outlive us all."
"What is it, Mum?" I asked, losing patience.
"You've seen all these sob stories on the news showing families living in their cars, on the
streets?"
"Yes, it's largely due to the h..." I began but she cut me off promptly.
"My cousin Mary's daughter needs a place to stay for a while.

You've got that big flat all to
yourself, she'll take your spare room." She said it as if it was set in stone already and I almost laughed.
"You can't be serious," I said, never having had a demand like this before and doubting its legitimacy.
"She's at AU, so you're perfect," she said and her voice was firm, slicing.
"What?" I began to panic. "No. Mum, this is bang out of order. I can't do it. I'm shocked that you would even ask."
"You can do it and you will. I don't ask much from you, the family doesn't ask much from you. And considering what you've put us through over the years it's about time you stepped up."
"But I..." I stuttered. "I need my space. I like living alone."

"I know you do," her voice softened substantially, "but just this once, I'm asking you to put your own feelings aside. It's important, you'd agree if you could see what I could; Micah needs help."
"This is emotional blackmail," I said, feeling a great well of despair rise in my chest. She would get her way, when she turned soft on me like that it was not a subject she would back down on. I was in for it.
"It is nothing of the sort," her voice became clipped again. "It is simple coercion."
"Jesus Chr..."
"Don't blaspheme!" she yelled and I winced. "Look, she's smart like you, you'll get along
fine."
"I can hear in your voice even you don't believe that."
"Regardless, you'll make do. If you can manage not to kill each other."
"Micah?" I asked, frowning into the phone. "Have I ever even met her?"
"I don't know. Maybe when you were younger, at one of the weddings or funerals." "How old is she?"
"19, 20. You can ask her all that yourself. Right now she's living in a motel, that's why this whole thing is urgent. I'll text you the details and you'll go meet her tomorrow. If you don't, she'll be homeless."
I shut my eyes and rubbed at the spot between my eyebrows, ignoring the muck on my fingers.
"Why do you care what happens to this girl? Isn't Mary the one you hate?"

"Call it guilt."
"Guilt for what?"
"That's not your concern. You have indiscretions of your own you need to make up for.
Your concern is to do what I say and allow Micah to stay with you. She's not doing so well at the moment and her problems are right up your alley."
"I don't know what that means," I said cautiously. Was the girl dangerous?
"You cracked up when you were a teenager, I had to live through it - we all did. For years, I might add. I honestly never thought you were going to get past it, I thought you would be dead by now."
"Gee, thanks, mother."
"My point is, you've hit rock bottom and clawed your way out of it. Maybe you'll be able to understand Micah, maybe you'll be able to get through to her. Pay it forward."
"I'm not a fucking psychologist!"
"Language! She doesn't need a psychologist, she needs a place to stay and maybe a kick in the ass every now and then."
"Why does it have to be me?" I asked miserably.
"You're close to where she studies and her parents have kicked her out. She can't afford any accommodations nearby. It's a matter of convenience as much as anything."
"Why did her parents kick her out?"
"They're not as resilient as your family was."
"Mum just spit it out. If she's going to stay here then I need to know what I'm dealing
with."