19. Eden

19

EDEN

I don't have the energy to say anything meaningful to my mom when I get home. She's taken over the dining room table with her boxes of things, organizing into piles and talking to herself when I step through the front door. She holds up a finger to shush me, which draws an involuntary groan from my throat as I walk past her for a drink of water in the kitchen.

I'm supposed to have a talk with her. I'm supposed to ask her for rent. Her silencing finger quiets all the bravery I built up. Dejected, I head to bed.

I wake up with the sun shining and birds chirping and a revitalized sense of power.

I can do this. I can give Mom an ultimatum when she wakes up, then I'll spend the day making cute jars of beautiful bee products. I start thinking about Nate's rough hands. It would be interesting to make a special product for people who work with their hands… maybe from the wax I saved from the construction site.

My mind is buzzing, much like all my gorgeous friends outside. I skip into the mudroom to pull the wax from the freezer.

My feet trip over a cord, and I furrow my brow, my stomach dropping into my feet. Someone unplugged my freezer. I open the lid. Everything inside is a melted, re-solidified lump. It has to have been at least a day—probably longer.

I clutch at my chest. This is fine. There's no honey in here. I can figure out how to melt and purify the wax. I just need to make sure I don't damage the equipment and frame pieces in the process.

A tear stings at my eyes, and a humorless laugh tumbles from my lips. I never get stung, but this situation hurts like I've been stung a million times all at once.

"Oh, there you are. We need to talk."

I whip around at the sound of Mom's voice.

She stops short at the tear on my face. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" My once controlled anger has been uncaged. Too bad Nate didn't reinforce this one. "The one rule I gave you when I opened my home to you was to not touch any of my things. And you unplugged my freezer."

She pushes up on her toes, peering over my shoulder. "Oh, that? I had to. It was making noise."

"Making noise?" I'm sure my face betrays the depth of my anger at this situation. My throat tightens and my ears raise. All the tendons in my neck flex, and I'm not sure I ever let myself get visibly angry around my mother before.

"Oh come on." She groans like a teenager. "I was working on my pitch on a video call, and it was rattling. I must have forgotten to plug it back in. It's not like you had food in there." She walks away like that's the end of the discussion, but I lunge after her and grab her arm.

"Mom. It's my work freezer. What do you think I do for a living?"

She frowns at my hand on her arm and shakes herself loose. "I have no idea, Eden. Something to do with sending a horde of bees after your mother. You told me you sell honey. There's no honey in that freezer."

"This is unacceptable behavior," I blurt. "This just isn't how adults behave. I'm sorry."

As soon as I add the apology, I wish I hadn't. She'll see through my bravado. She'll finagle her way into my sympathy. I clench my abs and frown at her.

"And where do you expect me to go on short notice? I'm on the cusp of a rush of sales. You haven't even shown the slightest bit of interest in my business. And I was going to let you invest at a bargain, too." She sniffs aggressively.

"Invest? With what money, Mom? I told you I'm struggling to pay rent since Eila moved out. And you're here, running a competing cosmetics racket, while I'm trying to sell boutique beeswax products to local businesses. And you're not paying rent . This is just…" I wave my hands around. "This is not okay."

I want to scream. All the years of her doing whatever she wanted and leaving whenever there were messy consequences… I hear a creak, and the front door opens. I turn to see Eva and Eliza, standing there clutching hands, faces stiff with concern.

"We heard yelling," Eva says. Neither of them looks to Mom—they're here for me.

Clarity settles in my chest, like someone wiped away a smear of honey from my brain. We all agreed not to let our mother interfere with our businesses, and they came here to help me with mine. I know what I need to do.

I let go and roar at Mom, "You need to get out ."

There's silence as the final t in the word rings in the air.

Mom spins to face my sisters. "Your sister here is throwing me out. Can you believe it? Over a janky hunk-of-junk freezer."

Eliza smiles at me. "You kicked her out." I can feel the thumbs up she's sending me mentally, and a small flicker of hope spreads behind my sternum.

Mom either ignores or is completely oblivious to Eliza's smile. "Yes!" she says to my sister. "Can you fit my things in your truck, dear? I need to stay with you. Ugh, this will throw off the meetings I have this week, so it'll be who knows when until I get this show off the ground and?—"

Eliza holds up a palm a millimeter from Mom's face. "You are not living with me. You are not allowed to even know where I live."

Mom snorts. She starts yelling at Eliza, and it all blends together in a rush of overwhelm until I realize Eva has walked me to the kitchen and plunked me on a stool. "Here," she says, shoving a glass of water toward me.

I chug it down and whimper a little. "Mom has never cared for anyone but herself," I mutter. For years I kept thinking if someone just showed her kindness, she'd respond with more of the same. But I think it's too late, and Mom is too damaged. "You're all going to say I told you so about me letting her stay here, aren't you?"

Eva shakes her head. "Unless by ‘all' you mean Esther, who might say it. But I doubt it." We jump when we hear the front door slam. Someone drags something heavy down the wooden steps outside.

Eliza pokes her head in the kitchen. "She's gone, Eden. Good job kicking her out."

"Did I do that? Did I throw our mother out to live on the street?" I shake and cry, and Eliza and Eva wrap their arms around me, trying to comfort me. I can't tell if I'm experiencing relief or regret.

Eventually, Eliza opens the cupboard under the sink. She pulls out a pair of yellow dish gloves and snaps them on.

"Right," she says. "Tell us what to do to clean up the beeswax."