Then she paused, taking a deep breath, dousing an extra coat of honey on her lies. “Sweetie, you’re going to love this little town. I promise it’s our last move.”

“What’s so special about this town? It’s not even on the map!”

“I heard the town is real good. Friendly folks, cheap living too!” Sara forced a sugarcane smile.

I stood there, eyeballing her suspiciously. “What’s the real reason, Mom?”

She dropped her clothes and flopped down on the bed, sitting on the edge. She reminded me of someone giving a confession, shoulders slumped, eyes fixed to the floor. “Okay, don’t get mad.” She sighed. “We don’t have the money to pay rent.”

“What did you do?” My body stiffened.

“I used it on a psychic. Legend Red is famous!” Sara had to be off her meds, nothing unusual.

“Don’t you know psychics are cons?” I couldn’t believe she fell for the oldest trick in the book! I gawked at her in disbelief.

“Not Red!” Sara’s hazel eyes gleamed as if she was defending her lover. “He’s real.”

“Mom, he’s no more a psychic than Miss Cleo on television.” I refuted. “Remember her? She got canned for fraud. He ain’t no different!” I crossed my arms, knowing she couldn’t dispute my claim.

“Look, Red, foresaw us in this little town living on easy street, baby!” She scrunched her shoulders together appearing childlike.

I stood there swallowing my anger. This wasn’t the first time Sara had fed me a tale, all ending in lies. “Homelessness isn’t easy street!”

“Stop killing my buzz!” Her tone suddenly turned sharp as a razor, springing to her feet, acting as if she was going to Donnybrook me.

Lucky for me, I was quicker on my feet. I spun on my heels and stormed out of her bedroom. I’d had a belly full. 

“Stevie Ray! Don’t you walk      ”

I cut Sara off in midsentence. As her bellow nipped at my heels, I sprinted out the front door. One more word from her and it’d send me over the edge. Going off, half-cocked to these dead-end towns might be her idea of happiness. I sure as hell didn’t share the same aspirations.

 

 

***

Since Dad’s death, dealing with Sara’s bipolar hadn’t been a walk in the park. Merely a child myself, I was ill equipped. It was near impossible to handle her highs and lows. As I became older, age didn’t really make it any easier dealing with Sara’s manic episodes. I still struggled and dreaded every waking day.

Looking back, some might say it was a stroke of luck that I’d made it this far. I called it survival 101. Until I was old enough to work a secular job, I did odd jobs for the neighbors from babysitting to dog walking. The cash came in handy for school lunches. I would’ve qualified for a lunch program, free meals, but Sara felt it’d give folks the wrong impression.