“Basically, huh?” I chuckled. “I was young and stupid.”
Tessa huffed with agreement and picked up her menu again, her eyes scanning it. “If we could change the topic now so I don’t completely lose my appetite, that’d be great.”
I didn’t need to ask her if she was jealous, I could see that she was. I fought a smile as I picked up my own menu, thinking about how Melanie Clayton would never come close to Tessa Armstrong. I couldn’t even remember my night with Melanie, but each and every moment with Tessa stood out clearly in my mind.
Much to my relief, a new waitress approached the table with our cups of coffee and a bowl of various creamer packets. She was a middle aged woman with a gentle smile that she willingly gave Tessa. “Here you go, Tessa! It’s been forever since I’ve seen you around! How are you doing, honey? How are your dad and brothers?”
“We’re all good, thanks, Heather,” she responded with a small smile.
“You’re off to college in the fall! I bet your daddy isn’t too happy about that, huh?” the waitress, Heather, chuckled. Her eyes slid over to me, seeming to notice me for the first time. “And who’s this handsome gentleman?”
“This is Brock,” Tessa answered, her smile growing as she regarded me warmly. I noticed the pinched edge Heather’s smile took on almost immediately.
“Oh, Brock Miller? You’ve certainly changed since the last time I saw you,” the waitress said. I looked at her, trying to place her. Although she seemed vaguely familiar, nothing came to memory. Heather’s smile slid completely away. “I used to volunteer for school trips when my boys were younger.”
“The Andersons,” Tessa supplied helpfully.
“Oh right, Owen and Ethan. How are they doing?” I said, their faces finally coming to mind. Owen had been in my grade in public school and Ethan was a year younger. I could now easily recall each school trip that Mrs. Anderson had come on. She’d never seemed to like me much back then. Judging by the disapproval she wore on her face when she looked from Tessa to me, I could take a wild guess on what her opinion of me was now.
“Just lovely, thank you. They really made something of themselves. Owen is in law school and Ethan is a dentist.” There was an odd emphasis in her words, one that neither Tessa nor I missed.
I cleared my throat awkwardly. “That’s great to hear,” I said, forcing my smile to stay in place.
“I think we’re ready to order,” Tessa said quickly. “I’ll have eggs Benedict,” she added, folding her menu and sliding it towards the waitress with a tight smile.
“I’ll have the omelet supreme special with bacon and a side of sausage,” I said, handing over my menu as well.
“Sounds great,” Heather said soundly as she finished writing our orders out. She picked up the menus and gave us another rigid smile. “I’ll be back soon with your food.”
I watched as Tessa poured three creamers into her coffee and then dumped a heavy helping of sugar. The expression on her face was one of aggravation. Her brow was furrowed and her lips were pursed, like she had tasted something she wasn’t quite so fond of. She was extremely focused on the task at hand. She didn’t notice me staring until she’d finally fixed her coffee to her preference.
“How do you deal with it?” she asked, seeing my questioning gaze.
“I’m used to it,” I replied honestly. It had been like this for as long as I could remember, even before the arrest. People in this town just didn’t like my family, or me. I’d long since learned not to take it personally.
“Well, it’s not right,” she huffed, her gaze focusing on the four waitresses gathered near the kitchen window. Melanie was talking and Heather and the others were shaking their heads solemnly and glancing back at us every now and then. It was obvious what the topic was.
“Tessa,” I said. She looked back at me, a smile playing on her lips. I leaned forward, taking her hands in mine. “Your opinion is worth more than every other person in this town put together. If you think I’m worthwhile, that’s all I need.”
“Good, because I definitely think you’re more than worthwhile,” she whispered.
* * *
After breakfast, we headed back to my place to grab Hunter, my ATV and the fishing gear. We spent almost the whole day on the lake, fishing. We brought in the late afternoon by sitting on the end of the dock, hanging our feet off into the cool water.
The sun was beginning to set over the lake and Tessa let out a soft sigh. “This is beautiful,” she said, looking at the setting sun.
“It is,” I remarked, my eyes on only her. She turned her head to look at me, a small smile on those kiss-me lips.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You just did,” I joked, leaning back on my arms.
“This is serious,” she said, nudging me gently with her shoulder. I smiled and arched a brow, urging her to continue on with her question. “How come you don’t go see your mom often?”
I looked at her quietly for several long seconds. Her question had caught me off guard. I swallowed, forcing my gaze out over the lake. “I don’t know what to say to her.”
“Who says you have to say anything?” she said softly. She reached out her hand to cover mine.
“I have a complicated relationship with my mom,” I admitted, looking back at her wistfully. “I have a lot of resentment towards her.”
“Why?”
“Because,” I shifted uncomfortably. I’d never talked about this with anybody before, but I found myself wanting to tell her. I sighed heavily. “My dad was a drunk, which you probably know, because everyone else in town knows. But he was also abusive, not just towards her, but us too. I couldn’t understand why she stayed with him or why she let him continue to control her every move and destroy us.”
“You were the oldest,” Tessa said knowledgeably. “You probably remember better than they do what it was like before.”
“I know they remember.” I sighed. I didn’t tell her that I took the brunt of the beatings so they wouldn’t have to feel the pain. Even though I’d tried to shelter them, they weren’t unscathed. It was painful enough to watch someone you cared about get beat. I forced my thoughts away from there, though. “Our relationship did change after he died. She blossomed without him there kicking her down. She did a lot for me, and I know she’s done a lot for Becky and Aiden, and for Braden.”
Tessa was silent, absorbing what I’d said, and what I hadn’t, with a sad look on her face. “I guess I’m just wondering…would you be able to forgive yourself for not seeing her in her final days?” she questioned gently, her eyes landing on mine.
I exhaled deeply. I knew she was right; she was just saying everything I’d said to myself. “Yeah, you’re right.” She bit her lip, looking like she had more to say. “What are you thinking?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. I brought my hand to her face, brushing back her long, wayward hair from her eyes.
“I need to go home,” she replied, looking at me as if going home was the last thing she wanted to do.
“Well, whenever you want to come back…you know where I am,” I said before I kissed her softly.
I drove her back to my place with her hands around my abdomen. I went faster than the first time and I could feel her laughing against my back. The two minute drive was way too short.
Brock
My phone rang shrilly beside my head. It was nearly three in the morning. My hand fumbled across the pillow, searching for it. Clasping the cold plastic in my hand, I answered it on the second ring. It was Becky, calling to tell me that it was time and I needed to go home.
I threw off the blanket and jumped out of bed. Twenty minutes later, I walked into the house I’d grown up in, Hunter hot on my heels. I felt numb.
Both of my siblings were sitting in the living room with Beth-Ann. My eyes locked with Becky’s for a moment and the sadness behind them nearly ripped me in half.
But I was the oldest; I had to keep it together for my siblings. If I broke down, they�
�d break down. I could tell Braden was inches from falling apart. His eyes were tormented and panicked and he looked at me as if pleading with me would fix this.
“Am I too late?” I kept the emotion out of my voice to the best of my ability. My voice sounded cold and detached.
“No.” Becky shook her head, her eyes welling again. “But soon. I think she’s waiting for you.”
Hearing that was like a kick to the goddamn heart. Our mother lay dying down the hall, and I’d put off talking to her because I was a selfish coward.
I was supposed to be here to help lessen the burden on Becky and I hadn’t done that. For the first time, I felt like I truly failed them… and myself.
My feet weighed a thousand pounds as I walked down the hallway and entered my mother’s room. She was awake and alert, her eyes wide open. She was staring ahead, her gaze faraway and almost dazed. She turned her head slightly, wincing at the movement when she heard the door open.
My heart felt like it was caught in my throat. “Mom…” My voice broke.
She smiled. “Brock…I’m so glad you’re home,” she said, her voice raspy and raw.
All the things I wanted to be angry with her for over the years, melted on the tip of my tongue. I couldn’t say anything I’d rehearsed in my head. I couldn’t ask her why she stayed with my dad or why she allowed him to abuse not only her, but us too. I couldn’t ask her any of this because she was dying. She was dying and her words wouldn’t and couldn’t change the past. She smiled and I reluctantly walked over to her bedside, falling heavily into the chair someone had placed there.
Her frail hand crept towards the end of the bed, reaching for mine. I reached too, intertwining our fingers.
“I’m sorry I haven’t –“
“Never mind that,” she said, dismissing my excuses. Looking into her eyes, I knew she didn’t have much time left. They were glassy, transparent. I felt as if I could see her soul, and it was torn between here and the hereafter. “There are a lot of things I need to tell you,” she added, her voice scratchy. She cleared her throat, focusing on me. It was as if she could read my mind. “I’m sorry he hurt you. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you when I should have. I thought…“ Her voice broke again, the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “I thought I was the only one he hurt. I should have left. I failed to protect my children and I have lived with that regret all these years.”
I inhaled deeply, forcing my heart not to shatter in my chest at her words. My fingers gently rubbed against her papery skin, trying to comfort her. “You should have left when he started hurting you, Ma. You deserved better than that.”
“You’re a good man, Brock,” she stuttered, tripping over her words. She took a deep breath, resolving to finish whatever it was she had to say. “I’m proud of you. I know you’ll do great things; you’ll all do great things. I just wish I could be here for it all. I wish I could meet the girl you finally give your heart to. I wish I could see you on your wedding day. I wish I could hold more grandbabies in my arms. I wish I had a thousand more days to tell you each how much I love you and to tell you how proud I am of you. But I’m not scared of dying, and I know I’ll see it all from above. I’m not afraid to leave with you home. I know you’ll watch out for your siblings. You always have.”
“Of course I will,” I promised, trying to ignore the moisture that was building up in the corners of my eyes. I wish I could tell her that she’d already met the girl I’d given my heart to, that I wished she could get to know her too and see all those milestones she’d talked about wanting to see…but there wasn’t enough time. “I love you, Mom,” I added, my voice catching on the realization that this was the last time I’d be able to tell her that.
“I love you, Brock,” Mom said, the volume in her voice lowering as if the act of dying was slowly turning the dial. “I love you all.”
Her head fell back against the pillow, her eyes fluttering closed. She was too spent after her speech. I stayed like that, holding her hand until her lungs gave her last breath. I sat there, numb until Becky’s strangled cry roused me. She rushed to the bedside, Braden and the hospice nurse following quickly behind her. Beth-Ann checked for a pulse, and finding nothing, announced the time of death with a hollow finality.
* * *
The coroner arrived to remove Mom’s body an hour later, after my siblings and I had stood solemnly in her room, unable to speak our goodbyes to a body that no longer housed our mother. When Aiden woke up and padded down the hall, he peered into Mom’s empty room before walking into the kitchen, where Becky and I sat at the table with cold cups of coffee. Braden had wordlessly exploded out of the house the second the coroner left with the body bag. His eyes were red rimmed, his anger palpable.
“Is Grammy better now?” Aiden asked, his blue eyes wide and hopeful as he looked from Becky to me.
Tears welled up in Becky’s eyes and she blinked them away as she stood up. Crouching down so she was on his level, Becky broke the news to him. Aiden accepted it with a quivering jaw, his eyes lifting to meet mine briefly. I nodded at him, giving him the only smile I could muster.
“Remember what I said, buddy; she’ll be with you always,” I told him, thankful that my voice hadn’t choked up at all. It was the first time I’d spoken since the last words I’d said to Mom. When I told her I loved her.
Becky called Tessa to come and pick up Aiden for the day. When she pulled up, I watched as Becky gave her the keys to her car and tried to pass her a couple hundred dollars to keep Aiden entertained. Tessa softly closed Becky’s hand, shaking her head. “Becky, keep your money. I’ve got this, okay? It’s the least I can do right now.”
While Becky strapped Aiden in his car seat, Tessa walked over to me. She put her arms around my waist, pulling me against her and resting her head on my chest. “I’m sorry, Brock,” she murmured, her voice vibrating against my skin.
I brought my arms up to hold her closer, stroking the back of her head as I swallowed the emotion. “Thanks,” I told her, squeezing her hand before she walked over to the car.
Becky and I spent the entire day finalizing the funeral details and arranging the wake and ceremony times. Just after her dire diagnosis, Mom picked out her casket and got her affairs in order. She hadn’t wanted us to have the burden of trying to figure all that out.
The wake would be in two days’ time, and the ceremony would take place the next afternoon. The notice was printed in the newspaper and the flowers were ordered.
“Have you heard from Braden at all?” Becky asked, looking up from her phone as we exited the flower store. She’d been checking it obsessively for the last ten hours.
“No.” I answered. “But I know where he is. I’ll drop you off at home then go get him.”
Becky nodded with a sigh, biting her lip as she looked at me. “I’m really glad you’re here, Brock. I couldn’t do this without you.” The pain of loss etched in Becky’s eyes was acute. She’d been the closest to our mother, especially after Aiden’s birth. They’d lived with her and Mom had really helped out with Aiden before she got sick, so Becky could work and go to school part time. She was supposed to graduate from her personal support worker course at the college this fall and I knew she had plans to go on and pursue a degree in practical nursing.
I wrapped my arm around my sister, hugging her as we walked to the truck. “It’ll be okay, Becks,” I told her, needing to believe it myself. While the death of our father had been a blessing, the death of our grandfather was harder to take. He’d been more of a father than the man who’d created us. It had been a tough time, but we survived.
After I dropped Becky off at the house, I pulled out of the driveway and drove to O’Riley’s. I could see Braden’s old beat up Chevy parked out front; I parked behind him in and walked inside.
Braden was putting his legal age to good use. He was blitzed, sitting at the bar, hammering back a glass of whiskey. Mick looked up when I walked in, relief soothing the lines of concern on his weath
ered face. I nodded at him as I walked up to Braden and pulled out a stool.
“What are you doing here?” Braden slurred, scowling as he squinted at me.
I arched a brow. “Whiskey, Mick. On the rocks,” I told the bartender, not breaking eye contact with my brother. Braden’s shoulders eased at my words, the defensive walls dropping just a bit now that he thought I was there to drink my problems away too.
I wasn’t. I’d long since learned not to turn to booze to ease pain. Still, I knew ordering a drink would relax Braden enough to maybe talk to me. He was so drunk that it’d be either a fist fight or an explosion of pent up hurt and desperation.
I took a sip of the whiskey, letting it burn my throat. Millers and drinking was a dangerous combination. Addiction ran in our blood.
“Funeral details are handled,” I said, not looking at him. “The wake is in two days, the funeral the next day.”
“Whoopty shit,” Braden grumbled, tossing back another heavy sip while scowling at me. “It’s not like she’ll notice if I’m not there.”
“Aiden will,” I pointed out.
Braden’s shoulders slumped further, as if he hadn’t considered that. “Fine, I’ll be there. But I ain’t sticking around for that shitty party afterwards,” he told me, referring to the receptions that usually occurred after funerals. I nodded with understanding. I couldn’t blame him. Becky was the one that insisted on doing it, just having coffee and cake for the guests afterwards. I wasn’t entirely sure anyone would even show up.
Mom hadn’t been very popular in town either. She’d been judged by everyone for scum she’d married, for loving him. She’d been taunted from behind. She hadn’t had any real, true friends… except for maybe Beth-Ann, who she befriended after her diagnosis. Mom mostly kept to herself, focusing on her family and her job.
We stayed at the bar for another half hour until Braden’s eyes were too heavy to remain open. He didn’t even noticed that I’d barely touched my tumbler of whiskey. I threw some bills down on the counter before I hoisted up my brother, tossing his arm around my shoulders. I tugged him upright, heading to the door that Mick held open for me. I nodded my thanks, moving towards my truck. My steps were slowed by my brother’s obliterated state. I made it to the truck and had one hand on the door handle.
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