Page 76 of Married in Michigan

I sigh. She won’t stop till I tell her. “Sold some things he bought me.”

“Like what?”

I look away. “A Gucci bag. Some diamond jewelry.”

Mom’s eyes widen. “Damn, girl.” She grins. “What else you get?”

I hide a smile. “Mom, it’s not mine. I shouldn’t have done it, but I was desperate. I can’t ask him for help.”

“Won’t, you mean.” She rolls her eyes. “He got you shit, it’s yours. You sellin’ it is your business.” Humor is gone, then. “He won’t like it, Mack. Don’t need to know him to know that.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I know.”

“Tell him.”

“No. He’ll pity me. He’ll do something nuts, like buy the whole nursing home.”

“So? Then no more problems.”

“It’s not his problem. It’s mine—ours.”

She shakes her head. “Stubborn girl.”

I grin at her. “Learned from the best.”

Her eyes flutter. “Ain’t stubborn. Just know when I’m right…and I’m always right.”

“I know, Mom.”

She flicks them open, fighting sleep. “Give it a real shot, Mack.”

I shake my head. “No. I can’t.”

“Why?”

“It won’t work.”

“How d’you know?”

I blink back tears. “I just do. He doesn’t want it to. He never wanted a wife. He just picked me because I’m a fuck you to his racist mom, and a way to toy with the expectations of the DC political scene and the media buzz around him.”

She grins. “Listen to you.”

I shake my head. “I’m keeping my heart and my body out of it.”

She grabs my hand. Squeezes hard. Eyes bug wide, burning fierce. “Try, Makayla Poe. Try. Please, for me. Try.”

I shake my head. “I can’t. I can’t.”

She squeezes even harder. “Mack.” Her voice is pleading. “Look at me.”

I look—it’s hard, it hurts like fuck to look. She’s so thin, so weak. Fighting as hard as possible, because she’s a tough old Detroit-raised bitch who don’t back down from nobody and nothing. But she’s tired. She hurts.

“I see you, Momma.”

She shakes her head, because that’s not what she meant. “No. Listen.” A long pause. “I know you…you don’t want to hear it. But I’m…gone soon. Not much time left. I can feel it.” I open my mouth to protest to scold her but she squeezes my hand so hard it hurts and I shut up. “Ifeelit, baby Mack. I feel it.”

“Momma, come on.”