It was barely 10 o’clock but I had a Sunday ritual to complete.My mom had a host of activities to keep her busy on weekends and I didn’t want her to put off her plans because I was a laggard (even though it had been almost four in the morning before we cleaned up and went to sleep).“I wasn’t sure I’d hear from you today,” Mom said when she answered the call.“It’s Sunday, isn’t it?” I asked.“You’re pretty busy these days,” Mom said.“Never too busy for you,” I said. “I ... I look forward to these calls.”“I do, too,” Mom admitted.“Guess where I am?” I said.“Nashville,” Mom answered.“How... ?” I began.“I follow Liz’s Twitter feed,” Mom told me. “I saw you drinking moonshine last night!”I honestly couldn’t tell if she was upset or not.“Did you tell him I’m a big fan?” she asked, laughing to herself at catching me off-footed again.“I did,” I assured her. “I told him you and Dad took me to see him perform at Jamboree in the Hills before he made it big.”I did not, however, mention that I had. You’re not my type any more.”Hurrying isn’t all that easy using a cane, but she didn’t even try to follow. Her sobs resumed with a hysterical wail, and she slid back down the wall, hands again covering her face.No, I didn’t go home and jerk off to the memory, nor did I re-play the video and upload it onto the internet. I took a long, scalding shower and went to bed. I was as disgusted with myself as I was with Margot, and my dreams were nightmares filled with blood and death.Sunday dawned beautifully, and I was awake to see it. Shortly thereafter, low clouds scudded in to block the sun and the temperature dropped like a rock. By nightfall, it’d turned into a typical drizzly, cold March day in Missouri. I was as miserable as the weather. Around noon, I deleted the video file without watching it and felt a little better. I tried to put the whole incident out of my mind.Immersing myself in my organic chemistry text worked fairly well. When the memory did surface, it was primarily smug.
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