Free Goodbye to You by Aj Matthews Page A

between the two of us, her eyes questioning.
    Thea flushes again. “Thank you, Mrs. Kelly.” Her voice is quiet, her eyes cast to the floor.
    “Please, call me Dina. I saw your light on, Shay, and went to check on your dinner plans. Your dad’s working late and Mac’s staying on for a couple hours at Paddy’s. You didn’t answer your door, so I went in and found Thea.”
    Another sip of tea. Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and she hides a smile behind her mug.
    Glad she has something else to focus on instead of obsessing about Mac and the car accident.
    Mom wasn’t telling the whole story, so I’d ask Thea when we were alone. “Oh, yeah, dinner. I got a pizza. Let me go grab it.”
    I hate to leave Thea alone with Mom, but there’s no way Mom’s letting us both go, figuring we wouldn’t come back.
    I return with the box a minute later, and Mom’s got the china out. For pizza. Not a typical Kelly dinner served on paper plates with soda or beer right out of the bottle.
    “Thea, sweetie, what would you like to drink? Soda, beer, iced tea . . .”
    I mouth at her, “Beer. BEER.”
    She covers her mouth and clears her throat. “Water is fine, Mrs. Kelly.”
    “Keep calling me ‘Mrs. Kelly’ and I’ll insist you call me Mom.” She guffaws, but Thea’s face flushes crimson.
    I cover my eyes with my hand. This isn’t awkward at all. I glance at Thea and mouth the words “Eat fast” while Mom’s head is stuck in the fridge.
    I wash my hands and dole out two slices to each plate, putting the box in the center of the rectangular table.
    Mom’s still sitting between us, and with the photo albums piled on the far end of the table, I’m stuck here on the opposite side.
    “Thea, are you still in school?”
    “C’mon Mom, can we eat?”
    “Seamus . . .”
    I cringe and stop talking. That’s her pleasant way of saying “Shut your mouth.”
    “Yes, ma’am, I still need to complete my student teaching. My mama was an elementary school teacher, and I’m following in her footsteps.”
    “So sweet. I love being around little kids, despite their propensity to spew bodily fluids. They’re much more pliable before they hit puberty.” Mom pinches my cheek.
    I swat her hand away.
    Thea’s forehead scrunches.
    I explain, “Mom’s a pediatric nurse. She was working the ER the night we met her. We’d moved here weeks before, and I was sick. High fever, chills, the whole thing. Da panicked and dragged all three of us to the hospital at three in the morning.”
    Mom laughs. “What a sight. Ed, this bear of a man, was near crying. A tiny one clung to his leg, and another ran circles around the waiting room. And this one, pale and shaking and sweating in his brawny papa’s arms.”
    Mom’s face relaxes as she gets lost in the memory.
    “You reached to take me from Da, and I puked on you.” The thing I remembered the most, though, was how safe and warm I felt in her arms. Rose wasn’t the most . . . attentive and favored my twin Liam. Mom’s maternal touch was a welcome sanctuary to the sick, sad little boy I was then.
    My critical illness saved our family, made it whole.
    Mom smiles again and touches my arm. She understands how grateful we all are for her every day.
    Thea laughs lightly. “What a sweet story. Even with the vomit.”
    “Ha. More pizza, anyone?” We all chuckle as I grab another slice. I worked up an appetite earlier and need my strength for later.
    I plan to make the most of the hours left.
    Without clothes on either of us.
    Thea licks her lips and skims her fingers across the base of her throat, drawing my eyes to her chest.
    I can’t wait to get out of here.
    Mom’s phone buzzes and she checks her text. “It’s your father. He’s not working late, after all. The romantic old bugger’s planned a ‘secret date’ for us and told me to put on my ‘fancy dress.’”
    She rises and heads upstairs, calling out, “You kids stay as long as you want.”
    Thea and I glance at each other,