"If I hadn't done that, I never would have had this breakthrough."
"You can't quit your job," I said. "We need the money."
"Why do I always have to be the one who earns the money?" Mom asked.
"You have a job. You can earn money. Lori can earn money, too. I've got
more important things to do."
I thought Mom was having another tantrum. I assumed that come
opening day, she'd be off in Lucy Jo's Dart to Davy Elementary, even if
we had to cajole her. But on that first day of school, Mom refused to get
out of bed. Lori, Brian, and I pulled back the covers and tried to drag her
out, but she wouldn't budge.
I told her she had responsibilities. I told her child welfare might come
down on us again if she wasn't working. She folded her arms across her
chest and stared us down. "I'm not going to school," she said.
"Why not?" I asked.
"I'm sick."
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"My mucus is yellow," Mom said.
"If everyone who had yellow mucus stayed home, the schools would be
pretty empty," I told her.
Mom's head snapped up. "You can't talk to me like that," she said. "I'm
your mother."
"If you want to be treated like a mother," I said, "you should act like
one."