“There is nothing you could have done. I am and have always been my own person,” I say.
My mom pats him on the back. “You’ve always been a good big brother. But at some point, you’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that you can’t protect Bailey from everything.”
I appreciate my mom saying those things to Harry because the truth is, he has been a very good and overprotective brother my whole life. Even when times were good with Tyler, Harry was always a little weary of him. When Tyler’s path changed so drastically, my brother fought with me almost daily about leaving him.
I just needed to do it when I was ready.
When I found out that I was pregnant with Luca, he was by my side, constantly helping me in any way he could. Even more so when I moved back in with my parents after college, when Luca was a baby. My brother was always over here spending time with us, most of the time treating Luca more like a littlebrother. He is a hands-on uncle, even after his girlfriend, now fiancée, Jess, got pregnant.
Chapter Two
Mason
My dad walked around the front of his black four-door sedan and dropped himself into the driver’s seat. He slammed the car door causing a rumble to move throughout the length of the vehicle that I had felt inside my small chest.
“Why are we not getting out with mom?” I asked, my three-year-old voice strained. He didn’t answer me. Something happened, and it wasn’t good.
I watched as my back window slid down while it disappeared into the door panel. My mom leaned in as she rested her forearms on the side of the car. A few loose strands of her dirty blonde hair had blown into my face. I batted them away to get a better look at her.
“I love you, Mason,” she said. A single teardrop had fallen from under her long eyelashes. “I won’t be gone for very long, I promise.”
I tugged on the straps of my car seat. I tried to break free. I couldn’t let her go. “Where are you going?” I screamed as panic rushed me.
She kept a straight face. “I’ll be back soon. You and your dad are going to be just fine.” Then she ran the back of her finger along the side of my face while she attempted to comfort me.
I started to cry as I jerked myself around in my seat. “Mom, I need out!” I was confused as to why my dad and I were in the car, and my mom wasn’t.
She did not answer me.
The expression on her face read as unemotional, which served to confuse me even more. Then she pushed away as she stepped backward and on top of the curb. My eyes darted to the front seat as I searched for my dad’s help, but his head remained facing forward. It was only slightly tilted downward but had given me a clear view of his jaw that twitched each time I begged for his help.
I continued to wail violently as I yanked on the straps of my seat belt. “Mommy!”
The window slowly rolled up.
“Where are you going?” I cried out as my voice cracked.
I had heard the silent sobs of my father in the front seat, aware that had he tried to hide his sadness from me—even at my young age. But it only brought on more panic that raged inside of me.
The moment I felt the soft motion of the car begin to pull away, I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Stop, Dad! We can’t leave Mommy!” I squealed.
I strained my head back as far as it could go and watched my mom through the window. The tension in my eyes burned when they could no longer move farther to one side.
As our car continued to drive away, my mom got smaller, as the distance between us became greater. She never looked up or waved. Her shoulders were slouched over, and her head had been down facing the jet-black asphalt outside of the bus station.
Before long, all that was left of her was a blurry image topped with long blonde hair and a yellow dress with blue polka dots on it. The fabric of her pleated dress flapped around in the warm summer wind.
Popping straight up in bed, I gasp for precious air. Reaching up, my fingertips run over my forehead, which is moist with sweat. A recurring nightmare of the day my mother left. I used to get them a lot when I was a kid, but they’ve slowed over the years. The nightmares usually start back up again when I’m stressed out or upset, and suddenly, the painful memories of the last time I saw my mother surface once again like it hasn’t been twenty-five years. I am that three-year-old again, crying in the backseat as my dad and I drop my mom off at the bus station.
“You alright?” Claire asks, walking out of the hotel bathroom.
I wipe the beads of sweat from my skin, unaware that I’d even fallen asleep. Throwing the sheets off of my legs, I swing them over the side of the bed. Sitting on the edge, I keep my back to her, letting my head hang low. “Yes. And I thought you left?”
Claire lets out an exasperated sigh and walks around the foot of the bed. “I figured that I could stay tonight.” Now standing in front of me, she threads her fingers through my hair.
I immediately draw my head back and grab her wrist. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Her hand falls to the side. “You know, Mason, what we’re doing is getting old. I need more than just someone to sleep with here and there.”
