by Corgan, Sky
“Oh, I do want to know. Tell me, Piper, what will you do if I make my mother cry again. After all, she is my mother. Not yours. I can talk to her however I want, and you can't do shit about it.”
The smugness in his voice sets off something inside of me. I think about my mother, about everything I wish I would have done differently. Regrets flash through my mind like a montage of pain. If only I had known. If only someone had told me, I would have been a better daughter.
I never had that chance, and maybe I didn't deserve it. But my mother deserved more of my time. More of my love.
My heart drums in my chest as I look at Holden. It feels like someone is squeezing it so tightly that it's about to burst. I hate him, but no one should have to go through what I went through. I'd rather lose my job than live with knowing that I could have saved someone else that pain but didn't.
“Holden, your mother is dying.”
CHAPTER FOUR
HOLDEN
Silently, I mull over Piper's words. There's no malice in her eyes. She has no reason to lie to me.
My grip on her arm is so tight that I can feel her flesh pressing between my fingers. It will probably leave a bruise. I had meant to bruise her when I grabbed her. Meant to mark her. It was both anger and dominance that caused me to clutch onto her so firmly. And the fact that I didn't want her to go. She came after me to start a fight, and I wasn't going to let her walk away from it so easily. Now though...
I release her arm, flexing my fingers as I stare at the steering wheel. “You're lying.” It's the only thing I can come up with that grounds the swirl of emotions inside of me.
“I wish I was.” She wraps her arms around herself, looking uncomfortable.
“She would have told me.”
“She's gone to great lengths to hide it from you.”
“That's bullshit.” I glare up at her, remembering that there's nothing in my mother's bank statements that reflects any kind of medical treatment. This is all just a lie to...To what? A lie like this would get her fired. She knows this. I don't understand what her game is.
“It's not bullshit.” Piper shakes her head.
“I don't know what you're trying to do, but as soon as I tell my mother the lies you're spouting, she'll fire you for sure.” I pull my keys out of the ignition.
“Go ahead.” She takes a step away from the car, straightening herself. “Ask her yourself.”
The way she says it, so sure, makes a ball of serpents twist in my stomach. The fact that she's not scared of the consequences tells me all that I need to know. She's not lying.
I deflate in an instant, sinking back into the seat as shock sets in. “You've got to be lying. There aren't any co-payments on my mom's bank statements.”
“There wouldn't be because she's using an account that you don't know about. She told me that she told you that she got scammed by some guy on the internet who said that his wife was sick. She took the money and opened a separate account to pay for her treatments and medications so that you wouldn't know.”
Now I know she's definitely not lying. Not many people know about that incident. If my mother told Piper about it, then what she's saying must be true. Still, I can't force myself to believe it.
There's no point in questioning Piper anymore—no point in fighting about it. I need to hear the truth from the source.
Without another second's delay, I get out of my car and storm back into the house. Piper doesn't even move as I walk past her. She looks defeated, upset.
I find my mother sitting in the living room with her face cradled in her hands. She looks up at me, her eyes full of sorrow.
“It is true?” I shove my hands in my pockets and stand up straight, trying to seem unfazed.
“Is what true?” she sniffles.
“Are you dying?” Asking the question causes a twinge of pain in my chest, mostly because I fear the answer.
“She told you.” Mom pinches the bridge of her nose.
“It is true then.” The realization that she really wasn't going to tell me hits me like a ton of bricks, and heat rushes to my face from an intensely overwhelming anger.
I wait for her to say something. Anything. To explain herself. Piper already told me why she didn't want me to know. But I don't want to hear it from her. I want to hear it from my mother. And more than that, I want it to make sense. Not that I'm overbearing. I already know that's true. Hell, part of me already understands why she didn't want to tell me. But not wanting me to know doesn't make not telling me right. I've lost so many people close to me. She's all that I have left. Denying me this knowledge so that I can use what time she has left to make her life the best it can possibly be, so that we can spend quality time together and I can tell her everything that she means to me—everything that she's always meant to me—that's unforgivable.
Tension mounts as I wait for her to speak. She's not crying anymore. She just looks upset. Probably not half as upset as I am.
Finally, I can't wait any longer. Being in her presence is making me all different kinds of sick. Cruel words fly to the back of my throat, and I can't stop them from leaving my mouth. I feel like she needs to understand the depth at which she has wounded me.
“Thanks for showing me how much you care, Mom,” I practically spit at her before turning to the door.
“Holden, wait.” She reaches out to me, but I don't stop.
I'm done with this. I need to leave. Now. Go decompress somewhere. This lunch has been more of a disaster than I could have ever imagined. I made it that way. Piper made it that way. My mother made it that way. It was just one big fuck up.
I slam the door on my way out, listening to it echo in my ears. I'm wound so tightly that I feel like I could snap. Piper would be the ideal person to take my rage out on. When I see her standing there, though, her arms crossed over her chest, her head bowed solemnly, I can't force myself to yell at her. She says nothing, doesn't even move as I climb into my car and peel out of the driveway.
The smell of burnt rubber fills my nostrils, giving me a momentary distraction.
Distraction. That's exactly what I need.
There's no way that I can go back to work and function like a normal person. Not after what I just learned. I need something to drown this out. Drown everything out. Drown out the world.
CHAPTER FIVE
PIPER
Going back into that house is the last thing I want to do. I feel so ashamed of myself. In hindsight, I shouldn't have told Holden about his mother being terminally ill. He was right. Their relationship is none of my business. And besides, I had promised Ann that I'd keep my mouth shut. Some friend and employee I am. I deserve to be fired. Part of me thinks I should just walk away, not even bother going back inside. That's the coward's way out, though, and Ann deserves more from me than that, especially after this betrayal.
I let the tears spill that I've been holding back. Even when Holden was yelling at Ann, I wanted to cry. Somehow, I managed to contain myself until he was gone, though. And then I fell apart.
Everything that could go wrong today has. Why did Ann insist on having him come over when I was here? Surely, she knew that could only end badly. She probably didn't though—too hopeful and optimistic.
God, this is going to suck. I wipe my face on the back of my arm before heading inside. I open and close the front door quietly behind me like I'm sneaking in. When Ann comes into view, I know I look like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. I keep my face down, waiting for her to chastise me. I deserve an earful. Lord only knows what Holden said to her when he came in. I didn't hear him yelling, but I'm almost certain he wasn't kind.
I take timid steps until I'm standing before Ann, my hands clasped in front of me. There are tears streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes are closed so tightly that her eyelids are trembling. She looks sad but also angry.
“Ann, I'm sorry,” I say softly.
She holds out her hand to stop me from speaking. Even her hand is shaking. It m
akes me want to reach out and take it, but somehow I know that's not the right thing to do.
“He needed to know,” I continue.
“No, he didn't,” she barks at me. Her face is filled with such indignation that I take a step back. “It has been one day. One day,” she holds up a finger to me, “since I told you to keep this secret for me. You couldn't even keep your mouth shut for one day.”
My mouth falls open, but no words come out. No excuse that I can make would justify what I did. Telling her that Holden pushed me to the edge wouldn't be enough. Even though she probably knows it's the truth, it still wouldn't be enough.
“I couldn't handle how he was treating you. If I had treated my mother like that and then found out later that she was dying...” my voice trails off as I struggle to finish the sentence.
“Go home, Piper.” Ann gestures towards the door, her gaze falling to the floor.
My heart sinks to my feet. “Ann, if there's anything that you need—”
“You've done enough for one day. You're dismissed.” Her tone is as cold as ice.
There are so many things I want to say to her, but I know that she's fed up. Every second I spend in her presence only upsets her further. She needs to be alone right now.
I swallow my feelings, my need for forgiveness, and turn from her to leave. If her dismissal of me wasn't a subtle firing, then I'm sure I'll get a phone call from her later.
While I'm extremely miserable from everything that has happened, I also feel a sense of relief when I walk outside. It's like the veil of oppression from having to deal with Holden is lifted. Sure, I'm still upset that I couldn't see things through with Ann to the end, but I am happy that I don't have to subject myself to being tormented by her jackhole son anymore.
I sigh as I climb into my car, sitting behind the steering wheel for several minutes to process everything. Even though I feel guilty for betraying Ann's trust, I still don't think that telling Holden was wrong. I may have destroyed my friendship with Ann and forfeited my job to disclose the information to him, but perhaps he'll grow to appreciate what I did for him someday. Maybe they both will.
***
What fragment of a professional relationship that I had with Holden has been nullified. There's no point in fearing or avoiding him any longer. He has no reason to come after me. We're nothing to each other.
Knowing that, I get dressed to go out to Club Fet that night. The misery of the day followed me home and seeped into my soul. Tomorrow, I'll start the job search all over again. Tonight, I want to forget—want to drown myself in pleasure.
It feels like my days are hell and nights are my only solace. Maybe that's a bit dramatic, though. After all, it hasn't all been bad.
I head to Club Fet a bit too early. While the idea of staying at home until it gets late enough for the fun to begin isn't torturous, I desperately need a drink, and I don't want to drink around my brothers. With my luck, Earl would ask if he could have some alcohol, and I'm in such a mood that I'd let him. That would not be responsible parenting. It's better if I get my kicks away from the house, and who knows, maybe someone interesting will come in. Surely, I can't always be the only early bird.
I drop by the liquor store to pick up a bottle of Rumchata and a shot glass before heading to Club Fet. The cashier eyes my outfit lecherously. Today's get-up is a red satin corset and a flowing black leather skirt with knee high boots. Every chance that he gets while he's ringing me up, his gaze dips to my cleavage. It takes everything in me not to make a snide comment. Something like take a picture, it'll last longer.
When I get to Club Fet, I'm not surprised to find it dead. I saunter up to the bar, pull out a bar stool, and immediately bust open the Rumchata to pour myself a shot. It tastes like liquid dessert, and I moan softly from the pleasure of it. At least, this is one thing that will go right. It's one thing the night can't take from me.
Boredom makes my mind wander. It also makes me drink faster. I let my gaze flit around the room from time to time, but I find it mostly going to the places where I first saw Holden. What will I do if he comes in tonight? Originally, I had told myself that I'd keep my distance. Now that the alcohol is making me feel bolder though, I really want to give him a piece of my mind. He's spent the past week terrorizing me. I have nothing to lose by yelling at him. I can't do it in here, though. I'd have to lure him outside.
Time drags. What feels like hours is only minutes, and I quickly grow discontent. I slam back shot after shot, hoping to be donning alcohol goggles before long. None of the Doms streaming into the place are attractive to me. I might be able to settle tonight, but even as I look at the semi-attractive ones, I find myself wondering if they're psychos—if they're like Holden. All of my interactions with him have left a bitter taste in my mouth—have made me wary of all men. It's disconcerting that the brief time I've known him has damaged me so.
I shake my head, trying to brush unpleasant thoughts away. I can't allow this to ruin my night—can't allow him to ruin my night. Not all men are like him. Most aren't. He's an exception to the rule. A grade A asshole.
Good God, stop. You're not supposed to be thinking about him anymore. I slump over the bar, realizing that the alcohol is only making things worse. My mind is absolutely obsessed with Holden, and it seems to infect all of my other thoughts and feelings. As long as I can't get him out of my head, I won't have fun tonight. I know it.
My eyes catch a glimpse of Sir Jeremy walking through the door and I groan internally, quickly turning my head so he can't see my face. This is the last thing that I need. If he recognizes me, he'll probably try to talk to me. I don't feel like dealing with that.
I keep my head forward but my peripheral vision follows him. He stops to talk to another Dom for a few minutes and then he diverts to the bathroom. I use the opportunity to take my leave, grabbing my things and slipping out of the door before there's a chance for me to be discovered.
CHAPTER SIX
HOLDEN
Regret is something that I try to avoid. That's why I meticulously plan everything in my life where possible. Some things can't be planned though. Some things are just unexpected.
After hearing the news about my mother's declining health, I canceled all of my appointments for the day and drove straight to the nearest bar. The one I landed at is a hole in the wall, someplace I would normally never be caught dead in. I don't want to be recognized though. I don't want to have to talk to anyone. And the best place to go to avoid such things is where you've never been before, where everyone is a stranger to you.
I take a shot of bourbon and swirl it in my mouth before swallowing. It tastes rich with a slow burn. The alcohol seeps into my taste buds and leaves behind a sweet charred flavor. Fire rolls down to my intestines, sending a looseness to my limbs.
There is a mix of emotions brewing inside of me, but right now, at the very top of the shit soup is anger. That my mother wouldn't tell me that she's dying, that she'd keep something so important from me...But more than that, that I wasn't able to find out with all of the resources that I have at my disposal; it infuriates me.
She lied to me. She lied about the internet scammer. I got the police involved and she didn't even bother to stop me. That's some serious shit. If they knew she lied...I'm not sure what they'd do.
Hell, I never knew that my mother was so good at lying—so good at keeping secrets. All of my life I've seen her as an honest Christian woman, incapable of doing any wrong—incapable of lying. I suppose I don't know her as well as I thought. That's apparent if she was smart enough to go behind my back and keep her condition undetectable to me.
I sigh over the new shot of bourbon that the bartender places in front of me, thinking about how I don't even know what my mother is dying from. I allowed my anger to get the best of me, was so stressed from the conversation with Piper that I just exploded. Logic left me. I was angry and hurt and confused and so many other things. I didn't want to hear anymore—didn't want to stick around and talk ab
out it. Now, I barely know more than I did before. Just that my mother is dying. The last person that I have any closeness to in this world...is dying.
My hand trembles slightly as I pick up the shot glass and throw back the liquid inside before slamming the glass back down onto the bar and pushing it to the bartender to order another. For as much as I'm drinking, I should have just gone to a liquor store and bought a bottle. It would have been cheaper. But right now I want to be served and not have to think about anything extra. My mind is too consumed with other things to be bothered with shelling out extra money on alcohol. If they cut me off, that's when I'll go buy a bottle somewhere. No. That's when I'll go to another bar.
I doubt they'll cut me off, though. The bartender is a middle-aged woman watching a soap opera on the television in the corner between serving customers. She doesn't look like she gives two shits about what's going on in the bar around her. That's good for me.
Too bad she's not younger. I'd give her something to take her mind off of that stupid drama. I gnash my teeth, bitter memories of Piper coming into me like bile flowing up my throat. Almost the second the hatred hits me, though, it dissipates, swallowed down.
For as much as I don't want to admit it, none of this is her fault. She was just being dutiful to my mother. It was never important for her to be good at her job. All my mother wanted was someone who could keep her secret. Piper couldn't even do that much. I snort.
Maybe that's not a bad thing, though. If she were able to keep her mouth shut, I probably never would have found out that my mother is dying. While I'd like to think that Mom would have told me on her own eventually, I'm fairly certain that she's stubborn enough to have kept the secret to her grave. Why though?
The bartender places another shot in front of me, and I stare at the liquid inside, wondering how long it will be before I'm completely alone in the world. It's annoying how quickly my emotions are flipping from one extreme to the other, how rapidly I'm shuffling through thoughts, but I suppose it can't be helped.