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Mama Beth was the only one who didn’t try talking to me. I think she was so disgusted by what I had done concerning Annabel and what my life had become that she was for once washing her hands of me. Of course, her disappointment wounded me deeply. One day, three months after Annabel had left, I lashed out at her in a way I never would have believed myself capable of. After talking it over with Deacon and Bishop, we had all decided it was best not to tell Mama Beth about my rape. As sensitive as she was, it would be too horrific and painful for her to have to endure.
But in my drunken, self-loathing phase, I forgot all about that. Since I was surviving on a liquid diet, she had brought lunch to my house. I never intended to let her in, but she had a key of her own. Being her stubborn self, she had come on in and promptly poured a pitcher of cold water on my ass to get me awake. To get her off my back, I had finally come out to the kitchen.
When I peered down at the table, a simple piece of her chocolate cake set me off. “What the fuck is that?” I demanded.
Mama Beth’s blue eyes popped wide at my language and tone. “Why, it’s chocolate cake. Your favorite.”
Once upon a time, it had been my favorite. After my attack, I could barely stomach it. But to keep the secret and the peace, I would smile and eat it, only to excuse myself and throw it up moments later. Too much had happened for me to do the same thing now. Lunging forward, I grabbed the cake and took it straight to the trash. I slammed it down into the trash can so hard that the plate popped up before falling down.
“Nathaniel, what are you doing?” Mama Beth asked in her most concerned voice.
“You know what happened to me because of chocolate cake?”
Mama Beth shook her head. “You’re out-of-your-head drunk and not making any sense. Please eat something. I made all of your favorites.”
“Always trying to make things right with food, aren’t you, Mama?” I snapped.
“Nathaniel, I do not like your tone or your attitude. I know things have been strained between us since Annabel left, so I came down here to try to make things right.”
“So you brought me some good ol’ chocolate cake.” I laughed a little maniacally. “One baked cake never cost me so much . . . or us so much.” I staggered toward her. “Do you remember years and years ago when you asked me to take a cake down to Miss Mae’s?”
“Yes,” she murmured, her forehead creasing in confusion.
“Miss Mae wasn’t home. Instead, a vagrant named Kurt was there. He drugged me and dragged me into her bedroom, where he raped me!”
Mama Beth gasped in horror, her eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.
“The reason Preacher Man left his church and left us? It’s because he blew Kurt’s head off after seeing him violating me.”
As long as I live, I will never forget the look on her face. It was an agonizing expression of shock, disbelief, and pain. Her hand flew to her mouth as she swayed on her feet. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? Why didn’t he tell me?”
“I don’t know. We thought it was best to keep it a secret.”
As she stared at me almost like I was a stranger, I felt like the biggest bastard to have ever walked the earth. “Mama Beth, I’m sorry,” I murmured. I wanted her to scream at me. To slap my face for telling her in such a horrible way. To hate me for ruining her marriage and, in a way, her life.
Instead, tears streamed down her cheeks. “No, I’m the one who is sorry, Nathaniel. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me. I’m an asshole for telling you like that.”
She brought her hand up to cup my cheek. “You’ve been under a tremendous strain these last three months. While I should be angry at you for the way you told me, I can’t be. You’re my son, and I love you. More than anything, my heart breaks for you. How I wish I could turn back time to be there for you when you were suffering.”
“You were. You just didn’t know the why.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I wish your father was alive, so I could give him a good talking-to for keeping it from me.”
I laughed. “Knowing him, it probably wouldn’t have done any good.”
“It would have made me feel better.” She wiped her eyes. “He should have known keeping secrets never does any good. Maybe things could have been different if he had only been honest.” She glanced up at me. “Maybe you’ll learn from his mistakes.”
“What do you mean?”
“With Annabel.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m just telling you that keeping the truth from me hurt me far worse in the long run.” She then opened her arms. “Now come let your mother hug you and try to make it better.”
Although I was a grown man, I allowed my mother to comfort me like the scared eleven-year-old boy wished he had been comforted.
That had been a month ago, and while I wished I could say that her talk had made me see the light, I once again was too stubborn. I retreated back into drinking, although I did manage to make it to church meetings with the club and returned to my job at the pawnshop. Of course, I wasn’t sober for any of it, but at least I was physically present.
The next afternoon found me walking home from the pawnshop. The December chill had me reaching inside my cut for my flask. After sucking back some liquid warmth, I put the flask back. Just as I started up the stairs, I remembered I needed to feed Poe. It had been two months since he had been released into the wild. Even though he was doing fine on his own, I still gave him his favorite treat of dried corn. It helped to bring him back around. Even though he was a constant reminder of Annabel, I still wanted to see him.
