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through the moans and groans of her aching body trying to dodge the springs poking through the pancake-thin mattress. The reality of sleeping alone made her cry again. “I want him back.”
    “So do I, Momma.”
    “How could God do this to me?” she asked her Angel.
    “Sometimes God allows us to be tested, Momma, but he will never put anything before us that we can’t handle. You have to be strong.”
    “It’s going to be hard, baby. I’ve been with him for forty-four years. I don’t know who I am without him.”
    “I know,” Angel said as she stroked Alma’s freshly dyed hair. “I want you to come live with us for a while.”
    “I can’t do that, Angel.”
    “Why not?”
    “There’s not enough room for you, me, and Fatso in that house. Actually, there isn’t enough room for him and nobody in that house.” They both laughed.
    “You’re crazy, Momma.”
    “I’m going to stay right here. I’ll be fine. It will take some time, but your momma is strong. My daddy didn’t raise no punks,” Alma joked. “I’ll be fine. This, too, shall pass, so the good Lord says.”

chapter
five
    A week had passed since the
funeral, and life was hard for Alma with no friends and no routine. She spent most of her time gazing out the window, buzzed by the stronger dosage of Valium prescribed for her anxiety attacks. Still, panic invaded and consumed the tiniest of tasks Alma set out to accomplish.
    Something as simple as folding laundry would lead her mind to wondering what she would do for extra money now that Harold’s pension was cut off. How could she keep a roof over her head and not be a burden to her children? Would this feeling of overwhelming guilt ever pass, or would it haunt her for the rest of her existence?
    These were the questions playing on a loop in her mind.The only temporary fix was the dulling effects of the drugs. They helped to shut off her receptor.
    To make matters worse, Alma had anxiety about becoming an addict like Jesse, whom she had recently threatened to slap with a restraining order. He had come by the house seemingly to look after her.
    “Momma, I wanna be here for you. It’s not good for you to be alone right now,” he had said convincingly. “Let me stay here, do the chores around the house, run errands, and cook for you.”
    “Thank you, son.”
    No sooner had he moved in than Alma noticed things were moving out. One day, she had dashed into her bedroom after a long walk, recommended by Jesse, to find one of Harold’s cufflinks on the floor. It was from his twenty-four-karat-gold square set, the one with his initials, H.S.W. She had picked it up to put it back in the dresser drawer and saw that all of Harold’s jewelry was gone. Alma knew right away that Jesse was the culprit. He had even taken Harold’s wedding ring. Probably pawned it for God knew how little money.
    When he came back that night wearing a new pair of jeans, he had lied and said he didn’t know what happened to the jewelry. The next day, Jesse had been busted trying to cash one of Harold’s pension checks. Alma had wanted to press charges, but how could a mother put her son in jail?
What would people think?
    “I’m ashamed to call myself your mother. You are nolonger welcome in my house, and if you do come around, I will take my knife and cut you to the fat meat,” Alma had warned.
    “I’m sorry. I just wanted to get that horn,” he’d said through crocodile tears.
    “You’re sorry, all right. Now, get on out of here!”
    On the other hand, Angel called her on a regular basis to make certain she was doing all right.
    “Hey, Momma, do you need anything? Are you taking your medicine? Are you sure you don’t want to come to Texas for a spell?”
    “No, baby, Momma is fine,” she always said. She wasn’t, but she didn’t want her daughter to worry, so she lied. Angel had enough to occupy her time. Between the new baby and the baby elephant she called a husband, her plate was full.
    Todd was a real