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“Your . . . guest?”
It felt wrong to tell Mom without sharing this bit of news with Asher first. Five years ago, I didn’t tell anyone who his dad was, not even my own mother. I left that part of Asher’s birth certificate blank. I couldn’t write name unknown on the line, now could I?
But some of Gravor’s history was going to come out soon.
“He’s actually Kuunik’s brother,” I said.
Mom gasped, her eyes widening. I’d shared that Kuunik had a twin, that he hadn’t seen his brother for years, that he thought his brother had died but later suspected he might still be alive.
The tea kettle whistled, but Mom remained in her seat, staring at me. “How did this come about?”
“He recently came to town and he’s . . . down on his luck.” That wasn’t untrue. “I ran into him while I was out walking. Since Zara and Kuunik are on their honeymoon, I offered Gravor a place to stay until they get home.”
“At your place.”
“Well, yes.” Rising, I went over to the stove and turned off the burner. Pivoting, I leaned against the appliance. “I have enough room.”
“I’m not one to tell you what to do. You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”
“I’m not sleeping with him, Mom.”
“That’s also your decision.” Her lips pursed with tension. “I can keep Asher here longer if you’d like. Then you can . . .” Color rose in her face as freckled as mine, though her hair was a medium brown. I’d gotten the red from my dad. “You’ll have even more room.”
“I knew him years ago.” This was also true.
Her head tilted, and her gaze shot to the living room where the tinny music of Asher’s game continued to play. As a teen and even when I did my best, I hadn’t been able to keep much from my mom. She had a delicate hand, but when steel fused her spine, there was no shaking it loose. “Five years ago?”
“I’m not . . .” I sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“All right.” Her voice lightened. She got up and came over to stand in front of me. “I’m here for you, honey. Always. Please know that.”
“Mom.” I stepped forward and hugged her. “Thanks.”
Leaning back in my embrace, she smiled. “Any time. You know I never judge, and not just because you’re old enough to do what you please. But remember, I also listen. Stop by again when you’re ready to talk.”
My eyes stung with tears. “Thank you for not pushing this.”
She nodded and strode toward the living room. “Finish gathering your stuff, Asher. It’s time to go home.”
A thump rang out as my son’s sneakers hit the floor. He came into the kitchen, dragging his tote bag with his things, groaning as he lifted it to hand it to me.
With it looped over my arm, I took his hand, and we went out to my SUV. Once he was buckled in the back, I slid into my seat and started the engine.
Mom waved from the front door with concern shadowing her eyes.
Back home, I found the house empty. I peered into the backyard but didn’t see Gravor. Was he okay? Worry gnawed on my spine and made me feel twitchy.
I unpacked Asher’s things, and he went to his room to play.
I sunk into a chair in the kitchen and waited.
And waited some more.
Asher ate lunch. I made myself drink a glass of water.
Asher ate dinner. I drank another glass of water.
I put Asher to bed and sat on the back deck, offering myself as a feast for the mosquitos, but I didn’t give a damn.
