Jennifer Two

THIRTY-TWO.

Eventually, I ask her. "Why did you let me come here?" it comes out confused and slightly interrogatory, but it's not my aim. I just want to know why it appeared that she jumped at the chance. It's quite a quick-fired question that she instantly seems taken aback by.

"Well, dear, that's because I know you need this. You would never ask for somethin' you didn't need. Nobody asks to visit a distant relative in the spur of the moment over nothin'."

"I know, but... weren't you hesitant? Thinking about my parents?"

"Thinking what about them, darlin'?"

"That they would be angry." I say, consuming more of her home-made.

"...Annie, I understand your situation. That's why. I know your parents - especially your mother. I understand why you needed a break from 'em. I don't blame you."

"Especially my mother?"

"Yeah, because I grew up with her. I know what she's like. What she has always been like."

"Tell me."

"Annie, darlin'..."

"Please."

She sighs. "Finish eatin', wash up and then I might tell you."

I'm happy to discover that Shelly has cable and service, but unfortunately no Wi-Fi. That's not the end of the world – I can still call Kal when I need to. Once I'm finished clearing the dishes, I wander around the house. I take notice of all the family photos, and look for my mother in them. She was raised in a huge family of cousins, aunts and uncles as well as her immediate family. It was the only way they could afford to live at the time – when my aunts and uncles were old enough, some couldn't move out for college due to lack of money, and some ended up getting local jobs as engineers, farmers and mechanics whilst the women became local teachers or nurses. In fact the nearest kindergarten became known as the Hughes' school, because most of the teachers came from the Hughes' family (my mother's maiden name) and never really left.

I see old photos of my mother, back when she was a child in the mid sixties, swinging on a tyre swing in the yard of her house. There are a bunch of other children that I don't know, and the weirdest thing about the photo is how everybody is looking elsewhere but my mother. It's like she was the only person aware that they were even being snapped. She isn't smiling – just staring knowingly into the camera, legs propped over the huge black rubber wheel. The camera isn't exactly of the best quality, but it adds to the nostalgia. I stare at it a long time before moving onto the next photo: a family portrait of my mother and her immediate family. Every nuclear family within the extended household had their own photos, and Shelly has them hung up on their wall. I wonder why they're not at the original ranch, but then I remember that it's 2016, and photocopies are not hard to come by these days.

My mother looks around seventeen in the family photo. Her smile is larger than life, and her skin looks kissed by the sun. My grandparents smile too, with grins that somehow my mother manages to merge together and adopt. I lift my hand to stroke some of the dust off of the photo, slowly.

"Your mother was always somethin' else," Shelly says, causing me to jump.

"Jesus! Are you trying to kill me right now?" I ask.

"I... I'm sorry. I forgot you wouldn't even notice me. I was looking at the photo too." She says. She then stays silent for a second before continuing on about my mother. She lights up a cigarette first before taking a seat on the couch nearby. The house smells like mahogany and old-school nicotine, all rustic and lonely. I know she spends her time smoking like a chimney when she's here.