She stepped through the narrow doorway into the room off the kitchen, a laundry-room-turned-Charlotte’s-bedroom. The room wasn’t much bigger than a closet, but she’d never had many things outside of a twin bed, small three-drawer dresser, and a lamp. It surprised her that Lucy hadn’t done something with the space since Charlotte moved, not even using it to fill with useless clutter. Maybe she was hoping that one day Charlotte would come back.
Leaving the room, she closed the door behind her and breathed in deeply. Although she couldn’t say that her every dream was about to come true, she did know she’d be in control of her own decisions.
In the living room, she picked up the empty beer bottles and overflowing ashtray and dumped them. Her aunt would be hung over this morning and Charlotte would come to the rescue as she’d done many times.
Taking bread from the cabinet, she checked the expiration date then placed a slice into the toaster. Thankfully, she found eggs and bacon in the fridge, leftover from the groceries she bought last week. And a moldy TV dinner that she tossed.
Once breakfast was prepared, she placed it on a tray and grabbed the coffee on her way out of the kitchen. The closer she got to her aunt’s bedroom the stronger the scent of stale cigarette smoke and cheap floral perfume became.
Standing on the outside of the closed door, she breathed in for bravery. She could do this. She was an adult. Inhaling the putrid odor, she sneezed. Making her way into the room, she set the tray down on the nightstand.
Her aunt’s snoring echoed off the bare walls.
Charlotte pulled the curtain back on the window and opened it a few inches. The sounds of children playing in the courtyard wafted in. She’d always liked the sounds of joy.
Turning on the heels of her Converses, she stared through the heavy smog at the sleeping figure laying under the piles of blankets.
A part of her wanted to let Lucy stay asleep, but she couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. As much as she feared telling her aunt about the move, she needed to do the right thing.
Giving Lucy a gentle shake, it took several more attempts until she finally moaned, cursed, and farted. “What the hell?” she mumbled in a ragged voice.
“I made you breakfast.”
Charlotte went to the dresser and stared at her reflection in the spotted mirror. Her long, dark curls were pulled into a messy bun, her usual look these days. She wore no makeup and couldn’t remember the last time she’d applied foundation or mascara, and this morning she could have used a bit of concealer to hide the inky circles under her eyes. She’d tossed and turned most of the night and finally at the crack of dawn she gave up on sleep.
Today was a big day. She had to tell her aunt that she was leaving, and Charlotte wasn’t sure what response she’d get. One could never know how Lucy would react when something bothered her. Making breakfast on a paper plate and the coffee in Styrofoam was one way to make sure so there was no china within reach to throw.
Her aunt finally crawled out from the wrinkled blankets, grabbed her dry vape from the nightstand and took a long drag before she glanced across the short distance with a blood shot glare. The redness of her eyes matched her rosy complexion. She’d stopped dying her hair black six months ago and her silver roots had grown out to ear length. “Why are you waking me up so early?”
“It’s ten o’clock. Not so early and I needed to speak to you.” Charlotte took the plate of food and set it on Lucy’s lap which eased the crinkles around her eyes—some.
“You look…different,” she said around a mouthful of egg.
“I’m wearing a new shirt.” Plucking at the gauzy material, Charlotte sat on the end of the bed. Buying new clothes happened rarely for her, but she’d decided that a few new things couldn’t hurt, like the pretty shirt and new jeans. And cowgirl boots. A woman heading to Texas needed to fit in. “Bristol said hello,” she tossed in casually.
“Hmmph. I don’t like her.”
“She’d been there for me when I needed someone the most.” Four years ago during a breast self-exam she’d discovered a lump in her breast. After going through a battery of tests the specialist diagnosed her with a rare condition, atypical hyperplasia, and they put her on hormonal therapy. She’d recovered, but she worried that sometime in the future that could change. The condition changed the entire dynamic of relationships and had destroyed her last with her fiancé.
In the process of getting healthier, she’d learned a lot about herself—and how she and Ryan, her fiancé of two years, had nothing in common. Agreeing to go their separate ways had been a very difficult choice, but a necessary one. She’d buried herself in work, helping others, and the rare times she missed him happened only when she felt sorry for herself, but ice cream was a miracle cure. And extra shifts.
“She dresses like a slut.”
“That’s not very nice of you, Aunt Lucy,” Charlotte scolded.
“Yeah, yeah.” She shrugged a bony shoulder. “Can’t say a damn thing these days without offending someone.”
“How are the eggs?”
“Good.”
“I’m moving,” she blurted.
The fork hit the plate, knocking food out onto Lucy’s lap. “Moving? Where?”
“Tarnation, Texas.”
She smacked her lips as if the words wouldn’t come. “Whatever for? Do you know the difference between a cow and a dog?”
Charlotte stood and went to the window to
