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Lillian

I breathed through my mouth as I dumped a load of Logan’s dirty clothes into the washing machine. Was there anything stinkier than teenage boys? If so, I wasn’t sure what it was. I couldn’t figure out how a kid who spent twenty minutes a day in the shower – sometimes longer – still had this much body odor.

He had a gift, my kid did.

I guess I couldn’t complain too much. As a single mom to three teenaged boys, things could be much worse. I’d raised all my boys to stay out of trouble, to be respectful, to help around the house, and most importantly, to work hard in school so they could go to college. I didn’t want them to spend their entire life working in a factory like me. I wanted those boys to get the hell out of the small town of Kenilworth, Texas and make something of themselves. I was determined to give them the opportunities that I’d never had.

“Mama! We’re headin’ out.”

Luke, my oldest at eighteen, thundered down the basement stairs, closely followed by sixteen year old Lincoln and the baby of the family, fourteen year old Logan. They were all tall and lanky with the sandy blonde hair and blue eyes they’d gotten from their father.

It was pretty much the only thing they’d gotten from him. Brad was twelve years older than me and had swept me off my feet when I was twenty-three years old. A year later I was married and pregnant, with three boys coming in six years. Unfortunately, Brad was a shit husband who spent most of his time drinking beer and watching television when he wasn’t at work.

Logan had just turned two when I learned about his daddy’s other hobby – sticking his dick in every willing woman he could find. I divorced his ass and when he tried to leave me penniless, I sued him for child support and ownership of the house that I’d paid for almost entirely with my own salary.

I might have worked at a factory, but it was a union job, and I made more than my husband did. That was just another thing that irritated him about me.

During the divorce, Brad petitioned for weekly visitation rights with the boys, and twelve years later we were still waiting for that to start. We hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since the ink dried on the divorce papers. The only reason I knew he was still alive was because the state kept sending me the child support money that they garnished from his paycheck every month.

It made me smile every time I saw the deposit in my bank account, mostly because I knew that it would make him furious every time he looked at his paystubs.

“You’ve got the directions?” I confirmed.

“Yep,” Luke said. “I programmed the address into the GPS on my phone.”

“Y’all have your phones and chargers, clean socks and underwear?” They all nodded. “Logan, you got your inhaler?”

My youngest rolled his eyes. “Mama, you don’t have to worry about us. You know Aunt Sue and Uncle Lewis are gonna take good care of us.”

My brother and his wife lived in Houston, and they’d invited the boys to go with them on a New Year’s trip down to Padre Island. My brother won the use of a giant beach house in some contest at his job, and they figured they’d turn it into a family vacation. Lewis and Sue had two boys, one right between Luke and Lincoln, the other between Lincoln and Logan, and all five had grown up thick as thieves.

I’d been invited to go to Padre with them, but I have to admit that I’d been eager to have some time to myself for the first time in I couldn’t remember how long. Plus I could pick up a lot of overtime at the factory this week with so many people taking vacation between Christmas and New Year’s.

As much as I was looking forward to some ‘me time’, I was still going to miss my guys. I rushed forward and pulled them into a group hug until they all drew back with a groan.

“We’re gonna be okay, Mama,” Luke told me in his deep voice. “But will you?”

It was cute how protective he was of me. I was really going to miss him when he went away to college in the fall.

“I’ll be fine, sweetie. Y’all have a good time and stay out of trouble. Don’t speed. Don’t talk back. Don’t fight. And remember to put the toilet seat down.”

“Yes, Mama,” they all chorused.

Then, with a stampede of footsteps, I was alone. My phone rang not ten minutes later.

"You’re still coming, right?”

My friend Becky and I had planned a girls’ weekend for New Year’s. We’d grown up together, but she’d relocated to Houston a while back. We still talked every day and got together whenever we could.

The factory was closed from the Saturday before New Year’s until the Tuesday after, and with my boys out of town, it was a good opportunity to have some girl time. I’d grown up a tomboy with three brothers and then had three boys of my own, but I still liked a little pampering every now and again.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I promised Becky. “I’m already packed. I’m on shift until eleven Saturday night, then I’ll head out Sunday morning.”

“Be here by noon,” Becky ordered. “I made us a spa appointment.”

“I don’t need to go to a spa,” I protested.

“Well, you’re getting a spa day for your Christmas present,” she said. “We’re going to get dolled up and hit the town. I was invited to a huge party with some people from work, and I have it on good authority that the place will be crawling with single men.”