Devil In A White Dress

Forty Nine

At approximately 8:30, Mrs. Summers returned home with the feeling of someone less distraught. She had gotten to the seven-hundred and sixth page of How to Be The Next Jennifer Lopez but decided to leave it for another day by placing the MAGA marker with an ugly Donald Trump smiley face in between the pages.

What bothered her at this minute were the words Betsy used in their last conversation. Something about a weak libido or sex drive; Poor ol' dementia Summers couldn't remember. She took her coat off while observing the near silence of the apartment, wondering how the kids were going to react to the upcoming news she and her unfaithful husband were about to announce.

But this time, dinner was surely going to be a peaceful one. A dinner without blabbering distasteful and disgusting immature insults. Tiredness consumed her and she just couldn't help herself but dive into the long grey sofa, legs spread wide and long dark hair hung loose. For about a few minutes later, she waited for either Austin, Brianna or her so-called husband to dash right through the front door and low and behold Brianna.

Creeping into her dull, lifeless home with the Pitch-Black hat on her pink-Mohawk, the teenager exhaled a loud sigh of exhaustion. She put her hat down on the exact stand her mother left the blue coat and did it the exact manner at which the woman did. Brianna pleaded to God to make her steps inaudible but Mrs. Summers shot her dead with surprise.

"Brie", she called out.

"Ugh!", Brianna shrugged, throwing her hands in the air like she just didn't care and wanted to lie down, "I am hands down, freaking exhausted, mom. Can we do this some other time?"

"Don't you give me that bs, little girl", Mrs. Summers scolded, "Stand where I can see you. I'm getting up." Slowly, she got off the comfortable sofa to walk towards the teenager. Those eyes Brianna read were the impression of I need to have a talk with you now. However, Brianna didn't pretty much give a damn. Arms were now folded with bottled up anger; not nervousness.

"Look," Mrs. Summers began, " I know you think my.... short-term memory makes you nauseous and that I might not be the perfect mother you've always wanted, but I am doing my best to fight this thing and move forward."

Brianna hadn't looked so confused for months. She'd always been confused at her mother's behavior but this was by far the uncanniest.

"Why are you saying stuff like that, mum? None of us in this boring lifeless home think youre not fit to be a mother. We just think youre always a little too overworked."

"Is that it? Thats all you think about me? You dont.... hate me?"

"Of course not, mom", Brianna sighed. A mighty relief fell flat on her mothers chest and a warm, uncomfortable bear hug followed. Brianna was completely tired, she gave no reaction to the sight of Timothy descending the stairs with four cans of bug sprays, gloves and mask on. Carl followed him then ran straight to Mrs. Summers, jumping on her with his paws and reaching to lick her chin.

"What's going on, Timmy?", Mrs. Summers inquired in a holistic manner.

Timothy removed the mask and bestowed upon his mother and sister a genuine smile that resembled the Jack Nicholson's portrayal of the Joker.

"Can I show you a surprise.... down in the Attic?", the kid awkwardly suggested and both mother and sister decided to follow suite. The three of them, along with an agitated Carl, ventured inside the dark batcave just in time to see the horror Timothy realized couldn't be unseen. Mrs. Summers and Brianna gave out a howl of disbelief. In the similar motion of a 70's cartoon show, Brianna and Mrs. Summers raced upstairs to fetch more bug sprays to join their fellow teammate Timothy in the termination of termites and weevils that infested the area.