She only nodded, encouraging me to go on. But she leaned forward and one of her small hands captured mine.
It all came back with startling clarity, probably because those memories never left. They had always stayed with me, my constant companions of regret.
The night it all happened, I’d discovered over two weeks’ worth of earnings from my job, saved for groceries and the electric bill, was missing. Disappeared. Only thin air greeted me when I’d cracked open the cigar box. I’d been careful. Found a new hiding place. And yet, the money had vanished. I knew where it had gone, and why my mother had left the house again.
When she’d returned home, I’d emerged from my room. It had been obvious there would be no productive conversation. No apologetic weeping or rage that I dared to question her. She was sprawled on the couch, dead to the world.
With a baggie of pills next to her on the coffee table.
I’d stared at the white tablets, reliving our trip to the grocery store earlier that evening. My mother and I were leaving the Piggly Wiggly when one of the bikers called to her. Not in a leering or appreciative way.
In a familiar way.
“Hey, pretty Lila. You ain’t gonna introduce us to your son?” He dangled a small bag in the air. “Got a new shipment in.”
She ignored the man but there was no mistaking the invitation in the sly, teasing words and I could no longer lie to myself. She’d gotten in deep with the wrong kind of company.
My mother, Lila Rossi—baker of the best chocolate chip cookie, Dr. Who fan, OB nurse, biology wiz, giver of the best hugs, two-letter-word-Scrabble-expert—didn’t just have a problem.
She was an addict.
I’d called 911, and the paramedics rushed her to the hospital. She’d narrowly escaped death, but for both of us, our futures in Green Valley ended that night.
I couldn’t look Zora in the eyes. “Do you remember when the Iron Wraiths used to hang out at the bar next to the Piggly Wiggly?”
She leaned forward. “Yes. We weren’t allowed to go at night. They were dealing.”
“They were her dealers. After the paramedics managed to revive her and took her on to the hospital, I decided to return her purchase.” Deliberately, I flattened my hands against the surface of the table so they wouldn’t curl into fists.
“What happened?” Zora looked alarmed. She gripped my hand and the edge of the table.
“I, uh, trashed their bikes. The Iron Wraiths.” I kneaded my forehead. I’d replayed this moment again and again in my mind, played with alternate endings.
What if I hadn’t lost my temper? What if my mother had resisted the impulse to get high that night?
What would our lives look like now?
“And then what happened?” Her voice was shrill.
I straightened and met her gaze. I needed to be direct and factual for the rest of this story.
“Sheriff James just happened to be on patrol. He waded in and rescued me from an enraged band of bikers, all by himself. Got me back to the hospital where my mother was. I’d known, before I’d left and gone on my mission of destruction, that she was okay. But the doctor and nurse wanted to talk about options for rehab. Getting her out of the environment, away from all her usual dealers and suppliers.” Some of the same despair and hopelessness I’d felt that night returned.
It was a terrible thing to be helpless. To be without the resources or the solutions you needed in a crisis.
My choices had been few.
“Sheriff James called your parents. They came down.”
She held up a hand. “Wait—what did you just say? My parents were there? They knew about all of this?”
Yep, this wouldn’t be easy.
“Your parents came. They offered to help.”
“And how did they help?” Her voice was low and dangerous.
“They asked me what I wanted to do. They offered every option they could think of. I could stay here in Green Valley, they’d take care of her rehab, find her a bed in a residential program a few counties over. Send her to my aunt in Michigan, where she had family and a support system so I could still go to school with you in the fall. But—” My voice broke and I paused to gather myself. “But she was my mother. And I couldn’t leave her. No matter what anyone said. Even if she’d become a master at lying to me and manipulating me. She was my mother.”
I released a breath. God, this was hard. But it was also a relief. Carrying this secret for twelve years had taken so much from me, from her.
From our future.
“More than that, there was also the issue of the Iron Wraiths. Sure, Sheriff James had saved my ass in the short term. But doing what I’d done, wrecking the bikes of the most dangerous gang in the state . . . I couldn’t escape those repercussions. And they knew I’d talked to Sheriff James and told him where my mother got the drugs. While Sheriff James was throwing me in the back of his car, I heard one of them yelling, ‘Next time we see your face, that girl of yours is going to pay.’”
I closed my eyes, sickened by the memory, sickened by the terror and helplessness I’d felt that night. “And if there’s one thing we know about the Iron Wraiths, it’s that they don’t make idle threats. Remember that girl that just ‘disappeared’ that summer? And that kid who was beat up by his own father and his father’s friends after going to the Sheriff’s Department for help? I knew they would hurt you to teach me a lesson.” Words failed me. I realized I was gripping her hand too tightly and moderated my hold. “I couldn’t let my rash actions, my irresponsibility, be the cause of you being hurt by them. I’d have gladly given myself over to be tortured before I let them harm one hair on your head. They knew hurting you would be the one thing I wouldn’t survive. So, I knew I had to get away, for your safety, that same night.”
She shook her head vehemently; her face frozen in horror. “They wouldn’t have done anything to you, or me. My father—”
“Your father thought the same thing, and Sheriff James had to talk some sense into him. In addition to believing people should ‘stay out of grown folks’ business,’ your father also suffered from a healthy dose of ‘I wish a motherfucker would’ and felt pretty confident that he could protect the both of us from any threat. But Sheriff James finally got him to understand it didn’t matter how much money he had at his disposal. He wouldn’t have been able to protect the both of us, not unless we were all handcuffed together under constant guard. It was a mess—a mess I created—and the only thing that would keep you safe from harm was making it clear to the whole town that I’d left. All we could do was hope that would be enough. Fortunately, it was. But I knew I couldn’t show up in town again, not for a long while.”
She seemed to be in shock as she sat unmoving. Her voice, when she spoke again, was a dulled monotone. “So, that’s why you left the note saying you’d be back, and never left any word? You didn’t think I’d be perfectly willing to find you wherever you were?”
I took a deep breath, unable to look away from her face. “That leads me to my next problem: making sure I did right by you. I couldn’t hold you back. I refused to. You so badly needed to leave. All you’d ever wanted was space and breathing room from all your family’s expectations. An opportunity to think differently, freedom to consider a different path. Room to grow according to your own desires.”
“All I wanted was you. I would have—”
I pointed at her with my free hand. “Exactly. I know you. Even back then, you were always trying to help people, fix people. Be what you thought everyone else needed. I couldn’t bear to see that happen to us. For me to look at you and not see myself in your eyes anymore. Not as your man, but as your project. Your fix-it mission.”
“I never—”
“Zora, it’s who you are even now. I’m not knocking it. I think you and the work you do, it’s amazing. But even now, you deny yourself what you really want, and you don’t even stop to question what that might be. You always put other’s needs, their pain, before your own. And
I didn’t want to be a part of that.”
A glint entered her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. But if I’d stayed, I would have. It wouldn’t have been intentional, but it would have happened all the same. Maybe not directly, but I have no doubt the Iron Wraiths would have taken their pound of flesh from you. We were in a terrible cycle of enablement and co-dependency, my mother and me. I thought it would be simple for me to leave; we both did when we made our college plans. I thought I could start over, you and me, at school, away from our families, and we could live life for ourselves. But it never would have been that easy. You would have sacrificed yourself, bled for us, forsaken your own future and plans. And been flattened by every relapse, every disappointment. I had to get our shitshow away from you. Even if it hurt at first—”
“At first?” She looked ready to maul me. “You think that was something I just got over? You think it was that easy?”
I shook my head. “It sure as hell wasn’t easy for me. I never got over it.”
“And all I was left with was that letter,” she repeated, and I now had an idea of how much anger and angst my hastily written missive had caused her all those years ago. “A generic letter with no detail, only saying you were sorry you had to leave and you’d be back.” She shook her head again. “And everyone else knew what really happened. Everyone but me.”
“Only your parents know. And my aunt Nan. And, of course, my mother knew.”
“I still think you should have given me the opportunity to decide for myself. Didn’t you understand how much I loved you? Don’t you know what I would have given to have made it work between us, even long distance?”
God, this hurt. God, this was so hard.
I gave her the naked truth. “I knew if I told you, you’d have come to me. And I’d have been too weak to stop you. I knew if I saw you, I’d weaken. And I loved you too much to be weak. I didn’t want to fail you again. I told myself that when I did go back, I’d go back as a man. In charge, not hiding, with all the resources I needed to change the narrative. Not as a little boy who needed his girlfriend’s parents to bail him out of trouble.”
“So that’s why you’re back now.”
“I’m back now because I have something real, of substance, to offer you.”
“Don’t you get it? I don’t care about your money. I don’t care about things—”
“I know you don’t. But it matters to me. Because I couldn’t be what either of us needed that night. And it cost us everything.”
She yanked her hand away from mine. “No, you egomaniac. What tore us apart was you making a decision for the both of us. You took away my choice when you made the decision for me. I didn’t get a vote. I didn’t get a voice. I just got left.”
She sat back, arms crossed, face full of a grief I’d fought like hell to keep from her.
I lifted my hands. “I loved you, Zora. More than I loved myself. And when I realized the best thing I could do, the most loving thing would be to stay away from you, I did it. Even though it damn near killed me.” I leveled a glance at her. “I know I didn’t come back for two years, and that was to keep you safe. It hurt like hell, being apart from you. But your parents had sent word that everything was calm, no one had approached you, and I knew I’d done the right thing in the end. So I focused all of my attention on reaching my goals as fast I could. I worked like hell to get my company off the ground, get funding. I didn’t want to come back empty-handed. In my mind, I thought I’d come back, scoop you up, and bring you with me when I’d secured a living for us, a good one. That plan fueled me and helped me reach milestones so much faster. I didn’t know that you’d transferred to Northwestern, and I never knew you and Leigh tracked me down in Michigan. But when your ring came back in the mail, with that cryptic, cruel note . . .”
“It wasn’t cryptic or cruel. It was matter-of-fact. I saw you kiss that girl—”
“I know, but you have to understand, I didn’t kiss that girl. She kissed me. And if you’d just given me a chance, told me what was going on instead of sending back the ring with that note—” I’d never forget those words, not as long as I lived. I guess forever doesn’t always last. I cleared my throat. “It was like dying, like losing my life a second time.”
We stared at each other. The only sound in her kitchen was the humming of the fridge.
“I know you need some time to process this.” It was the right thing to say, the fair thing to say, when what I really wanted was to beg her forgiveness. Ask her for a second, a third chance. Tell her I wouldn’t leave until she granted it, not after I’d waited all these years. Persuade her that I’d only been thinking of her safety and well-being when I’d decided to leave so abruptly.
She nodded. “Hearing this, it’s devastating. To know we both spent so much of our lives working from the wrong assumptions. It’s hard to even think about.”
I nodded.
“But, Nick. I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’m so sorry you went through all this alone. If you had let me, I’d have been there for you.”
I looked away.
Damn. She was still the woman I remembered.
Then she did the last thing I expected her to do. She opened her arms to me.
I took a moment to collect myself, to shove away the emotion climbing up my throat. My face was still turned away when I heard her chair drag against the floor as she stood. Leaning awkwardly on one foot, she wrapped her arms around me. I reached for her, seated her on my lap so she could rest her foot.
I accepted her embrace.
“I’ve missed this,” I confessed into her neck. “I missed you so much. Is this the part where you kick me out?”
She pulled back to look at me. “This is hard for me right now. It’s not okay. I’m not okay. I’ve barely begun to absorb what all this means. But I think it’s important for you to know that I understand, even if I don’t agree with your actions. And it breaks my heart that you went through all that alone, without me.”
“Where do we go from here?” The words cost me everything, left me paralyzed in anticipation of her response.
Her eyes looked sad. “I guess it’s like you said. I think this needs time.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Zora
There was no air in the ballroom.
Jackson and I pushed our way through the throng of bodies, buffeted on all sides by loud chatter, bright lights, and competing perfumes. I hobbled awkwardly behind him, clumsy in one flat and an oversized medical shoe due to my still-healing foot. Jackson turned back to say something and I shook my head, unable to decipher his words amidst the blaring music. A brass band boogied on a raised platform at the foot of the room. The lead singer, a stunning woman with glittery brown skin and a voluminous curly Afro, led us through a thrilling carousel of Motown tunes as the band provided throbbing, upbeat accompaniment.
Jackson rested a hand against my lower back, gently tucking me into his side as he spoke directly in my ear. “I said you look amazing.”
“Well, thank you.”
I glanced down at my dress. Leigh had used my credit card to rent it just before she’d left. I hadn’t known what to expect given her “celebrate your body” philosophy and my commitment to hiding my flaws, but I’d been overwhelmed by her selection. In a good way. It was a metallic gown in shades of red and copper that reflected and refracted the light so that I looked like a living flame. There was a little more cleavage than I would have liked, but it also had a daring split that gave the illusion of proportion.
I looked like a goddess.
Internally, I was a heartbroken, confused jumble of nerves. Ever since Nick’s confession several days ago, it seemed the earth had tumbled off its axis. The magnitude of his secret, and my parent’s apparent complicity, was mind-numbing. I couldn’t help but recount all the times I’d cried my bewilderment out in my mother’s lap, or wondered aloud about Nick’s whereabouts with my father. I remembered
all the wild scenarios I’d played out in my mind after Nick’s abrupt absence, and how emotionally spent I’d been once I finally decided to transfer schools and flee the ghosts of all those memories.
The whole time, all three of them had known exactly what happened, exactly where he was, and they’d all judged it better for me to believe I’d been abruptly abandoned.
I felt deeply betrayed. I felt like an idiot.
And yet. . . there was another part of me that ached for all Nick had gone through. He’d lost so much in one fell swoop, in one decision, in one breath all those years ago. Grieving Nick, grieving for Nick, was a never-ending, merciless process that would never withdraw its intractable claws from my punctured heart. Would I ever be free of him, and our past?
“You all right?”
I looked up at the suspicious note in Jackson’s voice. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
He squinted down at me. “You’ve been real tense ever since I picked you up. What, is it your foot? Are the pain meds wearing off? I told you, I’m sure Tavia wouldn’t have minded if we didn’t come, given the circumstances.”
I huffed out a laugh. “I’ll let you keep your illusions about my dear, sweet sister.”
“God, I’m starving,” he said, turning to snag the strolling waiter behind him. I only half-listened as the waiter detailed what was apparently a very complicated canapé. I couldn’t help scanning the room and wondering if Nick would appear. He’d never said a word about attending this gala and had no reason to show up. I didn’t even know if he was still in town. But I swore I could actually feel Nick’s presence somehow.
Jackson’s voice sounded near my head again. “Just what I thought. Tastes like my ma pulled some of the weeds from her garden and put it on a Ritz cracker. Who puts sesame seeds on a cracker and thinks they’re doing something? And what are ‘smoked’ sesame seeds anyway? How would you even taste the difference? If this isn’t the emperor’s new clothes—”
“Jackson.”
“What?”
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