She was totally losing it.
This didn’t surprise him.
“Your Ma, she’s special,” his Dad had told him so many times he lost count. “That’s why God gave her a bunch of men, me and you and your brother. Special girls like your Ma, they need a bunch of men to look out for them. That’s our job, all of us, to look after your Ma.”
Dad didn’t mind this. Fin knew Dad thought his Ma being “special” was cute. He knew it because when she got goofy or she dropped something like she did all the time and acted like the world was going to end or she said something stupid or she got all shy around company and tripped over her words, his Dad always burst out laughing. Then he’d grab her and kiss her. She’d stop blushing or looking scared and grin at him.
Without Dad, she totally couldn’t deal.
Totally.
And Gram and Gramps, Dad’s folks, and Gramma and Paps, Ma’s folks weren’t helping. Hovering around her like she was a wounded bird or something. You found a wounded bird, you broke its neck and got on with shit. He’d seen his Dad do that twice in his life.
“Kindness,” Dad, his deep voice gentle, had told him the first time he saw him kill a wounded bird, “comes in a number of forms.”
Fin didn’t tell anyone he saw his Dad do that. People would think it was whacked.
But Fin got it. Then again, he got a lot of what his Dad said.
But you couldn’t break a woman’s neck when she was in pain and wounded in a way that no one could ever fix. And it didn’t help, fluttering around her and acting prepared to grab a pillow or something to throw on the floor in case she went down so you could cushion the fall.
Shit had to get done. It was nearly February. They had to think about the corn.
He could not see his mother on a tractor. And her parents weren’t farmers. Her Dad was a retired barber and her Mom never worked. His Gramps lived in Florida now. He wasn’t going to come back up and work the fields.
And his stupid Aunt Debbie was on the phone all the time now with his Ma. Fin had heard the conversations. His Ma was already totally f**ked up but after a phone call from Aunt Debbie, she was a mess. So now he ran to the phone so he could answer it and lie if it was Aunt Debbie and say Ma wasn’t home. He even did this with his Ma’s cell, finding it and keeping it close just in case Aunt Debbie called. Ma never cottoned on. She often lost stuff, never remembering where she set it down.
He knew from what he heard that Aunt Debbie was on about selling the farm. He didn’t understand it but from what he heard, since Dad died, Aunt Debbie, Aunt Dusty and Finley and Kirby now owned the farm all together. And Aunt Debbie wanted them to sell.
And that was not going to happen. No f**king way.
That land was his Dad’s land. Since he could reach the pedals, Fin was on a tractor helping his father work the fields. And before that, Fin or Kirb were sitting in front of him while their Dad did it.
He had it all planned out. He was seventeen but he knew. He’d even told his Dad. When he did, his Dad was so f**king happy, he’d smiled huge and Fin could swear to God that he saw his Dad’s eyes get wet and he’d never seen that in his life.
He was working that farm. Like his Dad. And his Gramps. And his great granddad.
Fuck, Aunt Debbie. God, she was such a bitch.
Shit, he needed Aunt Dusty to come back. He didn’t know what was up her ass the last time she was there but even though he sensed something was not cool with her, she was f**king great with Fin’s Ma like she always was. Aunt Dusty didn’t treat her like a wounded bird. She acted like all was normal. She teased her, she teased him and Kirb, she laughed and did crazy shit like she always did. She sang while she was doing the dishes. Once, he saw her holding his mother while she cried but it wasn’t in a bullshit way. It was in Aunt Dusty’s way.
She was just real.
And he knew, because his Dad and Gramps and Aunt Dusty mentioned it and even Aunt Debbie talked about it, but she did it bitchy (as usual), that Aunt Dusty knew all about the farm. She’d worked the fields with Dad and Gramps before she took off.
He couldn’t do it alone. Kirby could help and would. He’d make his brother do it. But he couldn’t do it alone.
He needed help.
His Ma had a part-time job in town making coffees at Mimi’s Coffee House. She made shit money. It was just something to do with her time once him and Kirb had started getting older and not needing her so much. And she hadn’t gone to work since Dad died. So now they weren’t even getting that little bit of money in.
They needed the farm working.
And f**k it all, he’d heard her talking to somebody on the phone about them coming to “visit” and “survey”. He didn’t know what that shit meant. He just knew it didn’t mean good things.
Shit, he needed Aunt Dusty to come and sort his Ma’s shit out and help him make a go of the farm until he graduated in a year and a half and could do it on his own.
He sensed movement, looked to the top of the stairs and saw his brother coming down.
“She okay?” Kirby asked quietly, knowing exactly what Fin was doing.
“What do you think?” Fin answered and watched Kirb’s mouth twist to the side.
Shit, he also had to look out for his brother. Kirb and Ma were tight. But Kirb was only fifteen. He had no clue how to deal either.
Fin looked back at his mother and called out, “Ma, we’re goin’ to school.”
She jumped so big he saw it and Fin felt his mouth get tight.
Then she turned, her face still that pale it had been now for weeks, her eyes weird and vacant.
Then she seemed to sort her shit out and called back, “Okay.”
Fin stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Instead, he hoisted his book bag on his shoulder and he and Kirb moved to the front door.
“Do you…uh,” she called after them, they both stopped and looked back, “have, uh…your homework done?”
Too late to ask now, we’re going to f**king school, Finley thought.
But what he said was, “Yeah,” and it was the truth.
“Yeah, Ma,” Kirb said too and Finley knew that was the truth because he rode his brother’s ass last night to get it done.
“Okay, boys, have a good day at school,” their Ma told them and Finley thought she sounded like a robot.
“You have a good day too, Ma,” Kirb replied.
Fin didn’t bother. He just went out the door and got in Gramps’s old pickup that he left behind when he and Gram moved to Florida. Dad had kept it running and had given it to him last year when he got his license.