When Never Comes

by Barbara Davis

“I thought you said your mother wasn’t home.” Christy-Lynn turns back to her guest. “What?” “Your mother—I thought you said she’d be at work.” “She is.” Linda jerks her chin at the floor. “Is that her stuff?” Christy-Lynn follows Linda’s gaze to the trail of items strewn on the carpet: purse, shoes, keys, jacket. They look like they’ve been discarded hastily. But that doesn’t make sense. Her mother never misses work. At least not for a while now—not since she dumped Shane Taylor and got hired at the Piggly Wiggly. But Charlene Parker has been feeling a little off lately and looking a little off too, since she started picking up bartending shifts at the Getaway Lounge, burning the candle at both ends to keep the rent paid and the lights on. And then Christy-Lynn catches a whiff of something sour over the lingering aroma of last night’s supper. It’s acidic and vaguely familiar, like the stench of spoiled milk. She knows that smell, knows what it is and what it means. There’s a moan from somewhere down the hall, a low, grating sound that sends a chill down Christy-Lynn’s spine. It comes again, louder now, ending in a series of coughs and spluttered retches. Something hot and hideous scorches up into Christy-Lynn’s throat as she heads down the narrow hall. Rage. Dread. The awful realization that it’s starting all over again. Please, please, let her be wrong. But she isn’t wrong. Charlene Parker is draped over the toilet when Christy-Lynn walks into the bathroom. Her hair and c...