Her smile is too big in the close quarters, and I flinch from the whites of her teeth and eyes as dusk settles over us. The music is rapid and maddening, a harshly happy sound that reminds me of clowns. The accordion in the radio blocks my ability to string thoughts together cohesively.

New Orleans looms closer by the minute.

My eyes are bright with tears. Tears for Moony. Tears for myself.

We are on the edge of the French Quarter in a tiny walk-up that opens onto a private courtyard. I am surprised to find her here. I’m no real estate mogul, but I know rent in this city is high. I drop my bag on the sofa and look around while she turns on all the lights.

“This is a nice area,” I say, trying to conceal my suspicion. I am acutely aware that this is something most kids don’t have to concern themselves with, but with my mother, you can never be too careful. Nothing is ever really as it seems.

She nods and grins, washing her hands in the porcelain sink in the kitchen. “I like it. It’s close to work. Close to everything. I don’t really need the car.”

Paying for a car she doesn’t drive? My ears perk up and my face flushes with curiosity. Maybe, if she can afford the French Quarter and an unnecessary car, she can afford a modest out-of-state tuition, application fees, and a coed dorm for a few years. I let hope rekindle like fireflies in my heart. “Must be nice.”

“It is. We’ll have to look for something bigger, of course, now that you’re here. Maybe after the house sells, we can put a down payment on something.”

I want to tell her we should save that money for my school, but I know her. After the “corporate brain-munchers” speech, it’s doubtful I’ll convince her that college is a worthy cause. Even if she was willing, I don’t think she’d manage to hold on to the money that long. And letting Mary pay means keeping Mary in my life. It means letting her embarrass me on campus or totally derail my plans. It means subsidized chaos.

I spin around, taking things in. The living room is small, but with the high ceilings, it feels roomy. The kitchen juts out from it, just one counter with a sink beneath a window, a refrigerator, and a range. A little iron patio set sits to the right of the kitchen counter, and a card table covered with colorful scarves is squeezed into a corner of the living room with two mismatched chairs. The door to the only bathroom is adjacent to the kitchen. And next to that, the door to the only bedroom. I deduce quickly that the sofa is actually my bed.