Page 7 of Friends with Benefits

My mother’s hoarse shout sounded as though she was screaming right in my ear, thanks to the thin walls of the apartment. I scrambled from the bed, careful not to wake the twins. Whatever my mom was screaming about couldn’t be anything good. She never paid us any attention unless she wanted something.

I followed the sound of her smoker’s cough into the living room, frowning when I discovered her with a lit cigarette clutched in her claw.

“You aren’t supposed to be smoking in the apartment, Mom.”

She really shouldn’t be smoking at all. She was only thirty-nine, but she looked twenty years older. Her skin was like aged leather, and the scent of stale tobacco clung to it like a shadow. No matter how much I urged her not to smoke, there was no point. There was no explaining anything to Jill Stevens.

“That’s the first thing you say to me when you wake up? No ‘good morning, Mom, how was your night?’” Mom snorted and puffed away on the cigarette, the cherry glowing a bright red-orange.

“You called me for something?” I asked instead of rising to her bait. There was no point in that, either. Arguing with her only gave fuel to feed whatever was irritating her.

I checked my watch, noting it was already six-thirty, and the twins had to be at the bus stop by seven to make it to their kindergarten class on time. As mom made discontented sounds behind me, I busied myself with pouring bowls of milk and cereal for the girls and packing their bags. She should have been doing it, of course, but in the six years the twins had been alive, I could count the number of times that she’d been proactive about their care on one hand.

Maybe this was why Chris jumped into another woman’s bed so quickly. Was I that much of a drag? Taking care of the twins was second nature to me, but maybe it was more of a hindrance to him than I’d thought. What kind of fresh college grad wants to be saddled with two kids right off the bat?

The train of thought distracted me, and I had made both bowls of cereal and packed the twins’ bags before I realized Mom was still speaking.

“Maggie has two tickets, and it’s gonna be a great show. Thank you for being there for your family, sweetie.”

I tuned back in with a quickness. “What are you talking about?”

Six forty-five. Mom lit another cigarette, her eyes squinting in my direction. Sometimes, I thought she was the child rather than the girls. Clearly, she wanted me to react. But I simply didn’t have the time. If she got us kicked out again, I’d take the twins to my next apartment, but she wouldn’t be tagging along.

“I said I need you to watch the twins tonight. I’ve got plans to go to a picture show.” She kicked off her house slippers and relaxed into the recliner. Her designated soap operas played on the TV through the smoke-filled room.

“I can’t watch them tonight. You know that. I’ve got a shift.”

We went round and round about this at least two or three times a month. Normally, I’d switch a shift with one of the other guys at the station, but there simply wasn’t enough time to do that now. She had to know on some level that her request was ridiculous.

She blew out smoke and wrapped her tattered robe more tightly around her midsection. “Then switch shifts with someone.”

I shook my head as I placed the bowls of cereal on the island counter. “If you’d given me more notice, I might have been able to, but it’s too late now. I’ve told you that before. You can’t just ask me to watch them last minute. Someone has to work to support everyone,” I added under my breath as I headed down the hall to wake the twins.

Mom mumbled behind me, but I tuned her out. I didn’t have time to deal with her bullshit this morning, and after being through the emotional wringer about Chris the day before, I didn’t have the patience. I’d pay for it later, but whatever.

The twins had inched closer to each other in my absence. I paused in the doorway for a second to drink in the sight of them twisted in the sheets together, their little hands intertwined, inseparable even in sleep. It made me a little jealous, I’ll admit. They’d always have each other; they’d never be as alone as I felt.

I was reluctant to wake them, but an alarm on my phone alerted me to the fact that we had ten minutes to get them dressed and out the door. After a gentle shake on each of their arms, their eyes began to crack open. Mirror emotions of annoyance and reluctance flared in their eyes.

“Five more minutes,” Tillie cried and then flung an arm over her face.

Molly, on the other hand, stood, if a bit slowly. “Can I wear my purple shirt?” she asked after a moment of hesitation.

Despite my confrontation with Mom this morning, this simple request brought a smile to my face. The purple shirt was infamous around our house. If allowed, Molly would wear it every day of the week. I’d managed to convince her to restrict it to twice a week instead, but it had been a battle. Some kids had blankies or stuffies. Molly had her purple shirt.

“It’s in the laundry basket on the dryer, but that means you can’t wear it again until Monday, okay?”

Molly sighed. “Okay.”

I shook Tillie one more time and made sure she was up—grumbling, but up. As the two of them dressed and brushed their teeth, I finished packing their bags, along with mine. After dropping them off at the bus stop, I’d head over to the station to start a twenty-four-hour shift.

Mom was still sitting on the couch, smoking like a steam engine, but I didn’t say anything to her. If I kept harping about her smoking, she’d only do it more to needle me, and I simply didn’t have time for her crap. Especially not when my alarm sounded the five-minute warning. Besides, she’d probably complain about my not watching the girls, and I really didn’t want to go in to work with a headache already brewing.

The twins, dressed and relatively awake, slurped down their breakfast. As they ate, I brushed and styled their hair and gobbled down a cup of coffee and a handful of dry cereal. One day, I’d have myself together and would be able to wake them up and eat breakfast without rushing. But it wasn’t today.

As I herded them out the door, I tossed my Mom a, “Have a good day, Mom. They’ll be home at three-twenty after school. My shift will be over tomorrow morning around eight if it doesn’t hold over.”

Mom waved a hand, and we hurried out.