Page 80 of Succeeding Love

I stopped tickling Jessie, but held onto her arms so she couldn’t get her stuff and get it in the washer before me.

“Mom, she had a washer at dad’s. She had all weekend to do clothes. I have to wash my uniforms.”

“I don’t want to use it after you wash your nasty cups, you jerk!” Jessie tried to twist free.

“Then do the laundry tomorrow!”

“No! My favorite jeans are dirty.”

I scoffed, then looked at mom pointedly, hoping she would see how unfair Jessie was being.

“Let your sister go,” mom said firmly. “Jessie can wash her jeans on the quick cycle while you soak your stuff in the basin. You know grass stains need to soak, anyway.”

I pressed my lips together, then admitted, “My favorite jeans are dirty too.”

Vin, who was leaning against the counter watching us with an amused grin, laughed softly. Mom shook her head and sighed, but didn’t look that upset. She was back to her normal self.

“Why don’t you wash your jeans together?” Mom offered.

“Eww, gross,” Jessie gagged as she gathered her clothes back in her basket. “His clothes smell like a boy.”

“I am a boy, you dork.”

“That’s why you smell so bad!”

“Guys,” Mom laughed, shaking her head. “You’re both being silly.”

“No, she is!” I pointed at Jessie.

Jessie huffed, turning her nose up as she walked towards the laundry room.

“Why don’t you just use the washer at my house?” Vin offered. “It’s right across the street and empty. Mom only does laundry on Thursdays, anyway.”

“At your house?” I lifted my eyes skeptically. “Isn’t that weird?”

“Why would it be weird? It’s resourceful,” he shrugged.

I looked at mom, and she shrugged too. “If you want your jeans washed now, it’s your only option.” She then grinned at Vin. “And then you and your mom can come over for dinner. We’re having meatballs!”

Mrs. Velma couldn’t come for dinner. She said her favorite show was about to come on, but mom had me take her over a plate of spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread and salad when I went to switch my laundry. She was grateful and was quickly distracted by a soap opera. It felt weird at first going into their house with my dirty clothes, but she didn’t pay any attention to me, so it felt normal pretty fast.

Vin stayed at my house, helping mom in the kitchen as she set up for dinner. Every time I walked in they would jump apart, mom with a red face and Vin looking smug. They were worse than the couple at my school. If mom didn’t look so happy, I would have thrown up ten times by now.

Dinner was fun. Just like in the restaurant in San Antonio, Vin took care of mom, helping her to serve her food and pouring her water. He did the same for Jessie, who sat across from him, too.

We talked. We laughed. Mom more than anyone. What usually would be a twenty-minute dinner turned into two hours, but no one seemed to notice or care.

Then, there was the way Vin would look at mom. Jess and I both noticed it. When mom would laugh, giggle, or get engrossed in any part of the conversation, Vin would stare at her with eyes like he never wanted to look away. He would smile and wrap an arm around her chair, or lean in to get a closer look at her.

Sometimes he would notice Jessie or me catching him and sit back nervously, an embarrassed look on his face. No one could deny that he really liked our mom. Jessie even whispered it to me when Vin got up to get mom a napkin when she spilled sauce on the front of her shirt.

I had never seen mom happier. She wasn’t fluttering around, trying to serve him. She wasn’t flustered or trying to mask her usual playfulness. She was herself, and completely at ease.

She could never just be herself with dad. Even at their best, she would still have to cater to my dad’s needs, while many of hers were overlooked. Even what we ate back then was cooked to my dad’s tastes. He hated spaghetti and most other Italian food, so we never ate it, even though mom loves it.

Vin went on and on for about ten minutes about how good the meatballs were. I think he had three helpings, and even ate the leftovers from mom’s and Jessie’s plates.

Eventually, Jessie had to go do her homework, and I had to get my laundry from the Trude’s house. That left mom and Vin alone in the kitchen, doing dishes side by side. As I was leaving, mom was showing Vin how to blow soap bubbles through her fist. Kevin was jumping at her feet, catching them in his mouth.