Chapter 12

“But we want to. You do have malls and such down here, surely.”

“Mom,” Jackson said in annoyance.

“I’m not sure what a child his age growing up in an environment like this would want, although a gift certificate for a mental health professional seems appropriate. Or perhaps he would prefer a handgun?”

“Excuse me?” I said.

“He’s bound to suffer, growing up with a homosexual father and his lover,” she said, putting her coffee cup down, taking a long puff on her vape pen and blowing out a cloud of vapor. “Not to mention living smack dab in the middle of the Biscuit Belt, which just happens to be at the crossroads for Tornado Alley. What could possibly go wrong in such a hellhole? You know, Jackie, I dowish you had thought to get Bailey’s for this coffee. It takes the edge off.”

“I’m in recovery, Mom. We don’t keep alcohol in the house.”

“I wasn’t aware that you were an alcoholic,” she said.

“I’m a recovering addict. We don’t keep any drugs or alcohol in the house.”