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My knees cave, my body slipping down the wall until I’m sitting on the ground, tracing all his kisses with my fingertips.
* * *
DAMON
The porch light is on, like Mom always used to leave it when I used to stay out late. It’s not even that late, but with the storm it got dark earlier than usual, and Mom is a stickler for the safety of her only child. Her favorite line to drive home—“You’re my only child, Damon. There’s no replacement for you.”
I was so happy when Fran came along and became the daughter she never had. It was a relief.
“There you are,” Mom sighs halfway down the stairs. “You didn’t call me back. I was worried. With the storm and that car. Why can’t you drive something that’s sturdier?”
“Mom.” I meet her at the bottom step. “I’m home. I’m fine. Pretty great actually. Stop worrying.”
“Darling, you’re my only child.” She links her arm through mine as I usher her into the kitchen.
“I know.”
The place looks like a bomb hit it. There’s enough food to feed a small army. I don’t think she’s ever cooked this much for Thanksgiving or Christmas.
“Jesus, did you want to cook any more food?”
“Well, I thought I was going to have a girl to impress and…”
“It’s probably a good thing Ava didn’t stay. She would’ve had a meltdown.” Taking a plate down, I walk around the kitchen island, eyeing up all the trays covered in foil and plastic wrap. “Come on, I think I might need your help making a plate.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“He really does,” Fran sings from the kitchen doorway, holding up a plate of her own. She’s changed from her loose dress into leggings and Grayson’s Yale sweater. “It’s what he gets for being an asshat.”
“Don’t you have a home of your own?”
“Not with this much food. And besides, since I’m on a sex ban, I need to live vicariously through you.” She sits herself at the kitchen table with a grimace on her face. I’m not really sure what to reply to that. After a moment of silence, she perks up again. “I can’t stop eating the cornbread and the ham. It’s so good.”
Mom serves me some of her baked ham and cornbread.
“Where’s Grayson?”
“In a food coma.”
Mom hands me my loaded plate. I’m really not hungry, but I feel bad that she went to so much trouble and I fucked it up.
“And Dad?”
“He’s gone to bed. He needs rest, and after the stroke he’s slower.” Mom’s smile is weak which makes her look sadder. “But he’s okay.”
She pours me a water and follows me to the table where we sit with Fran. They’re both looking at me quietly, in the way they do when they’re either fishing for information or have to give me bad news.
“What?” I take a sip of my water, washing down the mouthful of cornbread.
“What happened? Is Ava mad at you?” Fran moves her food around her plate. “Was it something I said? I can’t even remember what we were saying when she freaked out. My head is all over the place, and I feel terrible.”
“I’d love to blame you and your big mouth, but it was me.”
“And?” Mom leans closer, eyes wide. “What happened?”
“We went to Jo’s for dinner and we talked.”
