Dirty Little Secrets - C. J. Omololu [18]
“Get out!” Mom started screaming at her. “Get out! I will not tolerate this in my own house. You took advantage of me! You probably stole my things for yourself. Get out!”
Aunt Jean still didn’t move. “Joanna, calm down. It’s going to be okay. Look around at your beautiful house.”
“Get out!” Mom screamed at Aunt Jean one last time and, with all the effort she could muster, swung the walker at her. One leg caught Aunt Jean under the eye as she scrambled out of the way.
“Fine!” Aunt Jean said as she made her way to the door, her fingers pressed to her rapidly swelling face. “You’re on your own from now on. You don’t want help, you just live here and drown in your own filth.” As she passed me in the doorway, she placed a hand on my cheek. “Take care of each other,” she said. “I’ll do everything I can to help.” And then she was gone.
Mom lay crumpled in a heap on the living room floor, tears streaming down her cheeks. I walked over to try to help her up, but she swatted my arm away.
“I don’t need you,” she said. She looked at Phil still standing in the doorway. “Either of you.”
We both watched silently as she dragged herself to the coffee table and used that to swing herself onto the chair. That night, she spent the first of many nights sleeping on our old green recliner.
These past few years, her room had gotten so cluttered and her bed hidden under such a huge mountain of clothes, it was almost impossible to sleep there. Her life in this house had shrunk down to the space around that old recliner.
Over time, Mom got less angry at Phil and me, but things were never the same as before. Sara loved to suck up to Mom and tell her over and over how she would have never let us do it if she had known. If any of us ever wondered who the favorite was, we didn’t anymore.
Aunt Jean might have tried to help, but I only talked to her a couple of times after that. She would call when she knew Mom was at work and ask me how things were. I’d tell her they were okay, and she’d tell me she was sorry, but I always tried to get off the phone quickly. I felt so bad about betraying Mom that I didn’t dare keep in touch after she told us not to. Little by little, Mom eliminated almost every “outsider” from our lives. It was better this way, she used to tell us. The only people you can trust were right here in the immediate family. Phil just spent as much time as possible away from home until he could leave for good. That’s what we all did—waited until we could leave for good.
It took three people and two solid weeks to clean out Mom’s mess. It took her less than six months to return it to squalor.
chapter 5
11:10 a.m.
Two weeks. As much as I tried to be positive, I couldn’t ignore the fact it had taken us two entire weeks to clean out the house back then, and there were three of us doing it—now there was just me and a whole lot more stuff.
Mom was lying in the back of the house, but at least she was in the hallway. This way, I only had to clear the places the paramedics would see as they dragged the stretcher through the house to get her. Any room that had a door could be shut away from prying eyes, and I could deal with them later. I didn’t have to do the whole house in the next couple of days. Just the visible parts.
Still, I had no idea where to start, and taking it in as a whole made it look impossible. But impossible wasn’t an option.
Mom always said you eat an elephant a bite at a time, so I tried to concentrate on one little part of one room. I walked back to the front door and turned around, trying to find the spots that would make the most difference. I tried to see it as someone new would, someone who hadn’t gotten used to seeing piles and piles of junk as they expanded over the years until they were as much a part of the house as the couch or dining room table. Not that you could actually see the couch or the