I climbed up the crooked steps and went inside. It was late. Mom sat in her rocking chair and watched the eleven o’clock news, her eyes barely open as she tried to fight off her pain pills and wine so she could stay awake and eat her dinner.

“Gwus,” she said, slurring her words. “Where you been?”

“Out with JP and Tyson.” I took off my shoes.

“You lying?”

No,” I said. “Where you think I been? Making plans with the devil?”

“Just thought I’d ask.”

There was some rice in a pot and I scooped some out onto a plate. Mom had baked some haddock, and I took a square of it. Standing near the sink, I ate the food cold.

Mom laughed.

“What’s funny?” I said.

“This woman on the news,” she said.

“What’d she do?” A piece of rice got stuck in my throat.

Mom slurred her words bad. “Went into that grocery store, the one up—oh, you know.”

“Save ’n Shop?”

“Yes.”

I set my plate down on the sideboard and I poured some water in a cup from the sink, and I drank it and then set the cup down and picked up my plate.

“And?” I said.

“And what?”

“The woman?”

“Oh,” Mom said. She laughed again slow and tired. “Fuck.” I looked at her. She’d dropped a piece of haddock onto the floor.

“Leave it,” I said. “I’ll get it.”

But she picked it up and set it on her plate.

“You were saying?”

“Went into the store with a water gun and sprayed people with her own piss.”

I went into the kitchen.

“A woman did that?” I didn’t take another bite of my food.

“Fucking crazy white people,” Mom said, and she didn’t mention it again.

But if it was her she wasn’t white. Or maybe she was. I set my plate in the sink.

“Where’s Frick?” I said.

“Who?”

“Frick!” Christ, turn that TV down.

“In bed. Doesn’t feel well.”

Mom tried to stand with her plate, but she wobbled and the plate almost fell. I went to her, told her to sit down and that I’d take it and rinse it.

“Did Paige leave?” I said.

“What?”

I turned down the TV. “Did Paige leave?”

“She’s not in her room?”

I went down the hall and checked. The light was off, and her room was clean as it always was, her pink-and-red duffel bag set on her dresser next to her small mirror and incense sticks.

“No, she’s not there,” I said.

Mom stood. “Then she must be out. Give me baasus. I’m going to bed.”

I gave her a kiss good-night. She stumbled, and I helped her down the hallway to her room.