away.
I closed the door, locked it, and lay on my sofa. Now I was certain the day couldn’t get worse.
Then I heard it: the rumble of a truck. I moaned out loud. I knew the day was about to get as bad as it could.
I got up and pulled the curtain aside just as my mother’s bright red 2007 Navistar CXT monster pickup truck pulled into my driveway. My aunt sat in the passenger seat. The back of the truck was piled high with junk that would ultimately be repaired, painted, or turned into artwork and sold for a ridiculously high price at their studio in Little Five Points.
My mother and aunt climbed from the truck. They had been junk collectors for as long as I could remember, earning the name the Junk Sisters. They knew the location of every Dumpster in Atlanta. They visited the swankiest neighborhoods on trash day in hopes that somebody had thrown out something that could be turned into art. I had been teased unmercifully in school for being part of this family.
They headed toward my front door, two plus-sized identical twins who still dressed alike despite being in their fifties. My grandmother had chosen to name them Dixie and Trixie. They wore their signature overalls—today’s color was lemon yellow. Their platinum tresses had been teased and lacquered so that not even hurricane winds could blow their hairdos out of place.
The doorbell rang. I considered not answering it, but I knew my mother would assume I was dead and call the police or break a window and climb through. I opened the door.
“Are you crazy?!” my mother shouted as she and my aunt stepped inside my living room. “Have you lost your d-a-m-n mind?”
My mother spelled out curse words because she thought the man upstairs wouldn’t enter them into the Book of Sins if she didn’t actually say them outright.
I waited, knowing what was to come.
“We saw the whole thing on the six-o’clock news,” Aunt Trixie said, giving me a grim look. She knew I was in for trouble.
“You actually wrestled a thirty-eight from a woman to keep her from shooting someone?” my mother said. “Do you know how dumb that was? What if you’d been shot? I would be talking to a dead person right now. How would that make you feel?”
“Terrible,” I said, knowing she wouldn’t be happy until she had delivered her daily dose of guilt. I tried to look remorseful.
“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” she demanded.
“Dixie, you’re getting all worked up for no good reason,” Aunt Trixie said. “As you can see, Kate is perfectly fine.”
My mother looked me over. “And when did you become an atheist? Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Because you almost succeeded,” she added. “I’m surprised I’m not in the CCU fighting for my life.”
My mother’s heart was perfectly fine, so I felt certain she would live another day to chastise me for my behavior. “Mom, I’m not an atheist,” I said as calmly as I could.
She walked over to a chair and plopped down. “No mother should have to live like this. I never know if my only child is going to be maimed or murdered by some wacko she’s treating. Even worse, I had to hear about it on the news. You couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone?”
“You should be proud of Kate,” Aunt Trixie said. “Everybody is calling her a hero.”
I smiled at my aunt. She was the peacemaker in our family. I motioned for her to sit.
My mother looked me up and down. “Why are you dressed like a slob? I hope you’re not letting yourself go now that you and Jay seem to be working out your problems.”
“Dixie, would you shut up?” Trixie said. “You’ve done nothing but badger Kate since we walked through the door.”
My mother gaped at her. It was seldom that Aunt Trixie took her to task. Finally, my mother sucked in a deep breath. “Where is Jay, by the way?” she asked.
I joined my aunt on the sofa. “He’s headed south to help with the wildfire,” I said.
She looked surprised. “Do