The Inner Sanctum by Stephen Frey

obligatory once-a- month call."
    "They have kids. You know how hard that is. You raised nine of us."
    Connie put the dish down on the counter and picked up another from the sink. "You have a full-time job and you go to school at night. You find the time to come and see me," she sniffed.
    Jesse sat down at the kitchen table and shook her head as she remembered the family crowded around it for dinner, remembered the wonderful times they had all enjoyed--even without much money. Wonderful times--until her father had died.
    "How's Todd Colton these days?" Connie asked.
    Todd Colton was an old high school friend of Jesse's. "Fine, I guess. I had lunch with him a few months ago. Why do you ask?"
    "I always thought you two would make a nice couple. He's a good-looking boy, you're a nice-looking girl. You always seemed to get along so well together. You're both still single. I never understood why it didn't turn into more."
    "We tried a long time ago, Mom." Jesse hesitated. "It just didn't work out. But we're still good friends even though we don't see each other much."
    "I remember the way you used to look at Todd. You could find romance with him."
    "Mom, please."
    "He's even better-looking now than he was in high school," Connie teased.
    "When did you see him?" Jesse couldn't avoid her curiosity.
    "He stopped by the house the other day, just to say hello. He's such a nice person."
    "Yes, he is." Jesse noticed paint peeling from the ceiling. "How is your money holding out, Mom?"
    "Fine." Connie's tone went flat.
    "Don't brush me off so fast," Jesse admonished gently. "Tell me the truth."
    Connie rinsed the last dish in the sink, then trudged wearily to the table and sat down. "I have a little bit of money in the bank, and I have my monthly Social Security check and your father's pension."
    Jesse looked up, a look of mild surprise on her face. She had asked her mother so many times about her money situation but had always gotten nowhere. Now she was finally getting answers. "How much is a little bit in the bank?"
    "A couple of thousand dollars."
    "That's all? Didn't Dad have any life insurance policies?"
    "Yes, but that money went to pay for your stepfather Joe's hospital bills. For his heart attacks. It turned out Joe didn't have the retiree medical benefits we thought he did."
    Jesse felt the anger rise instantly at the mention of her stepfather's name. Joe Schuman had been good for nothing--except spending her father's money. "Mom, how could you use Dad's money on Joe?"
    "Let's not get into that." Connie sighed.
    Jesse fought the anger as it rose several more degrees. "What about the house? You've lived here for twenty-five years, so it must be paid for. Surely you could get some equity out of it if you needed to."
    Connie put a hand on Jesse's arm. "It's funny how things like clothes and braces cost so much. It just seemed like your father and I were never able to get ahead. We were always taking out another mortgage. I can't tell you how many of those papers I signed."
    "Didn't Joe leave anything?"
    "No." Connie had always wanted Jesse and Joe to get along, but it hadn't happened. Now Joe was dead and the opportunity for reconciliation was gone forever. "I never understood why you wouldn't give Joe a chance. He was a good man, not the monster you made him out to be. I needed someone. It wasn't his fault your father died."
    Jesse felt the knot in her stomach tighten, but forced herself to say nothing, to hold back the story she so wanted to relate. "How much is the Social Security check and Dad's pension?"
    "Together they come to eight hundred dollars a month."
    "Have you fixed the roof yet?"
    "Not yet. That takes a backseat to food and utility bills. I'm trying not to touch what I have in the bank just in case there's an emergency." Connie's expression became grim. "I've always told you not to ask about this. It's kind of depressing when you stop to analyze it. But it isn't your problem."
    The fall wardrobe would have to wait.