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“I will, man, I love you, too. I love all of you.” We all share smiles, sad eyes, but genuine smiles. My heart hurts, I want him home.
The call ends and I lean back into Kings.
“What the heck happened, love bug?” Lana asks. I shake my head and bite my lip.
“God, you guys, it was awful.” I tell them everything that went down tonight and after a strong cry fest and the comfort of my brother and best friend, I calm down enough to put on a movie and wait for Trey.
Trey
HOME. I STARE UP AT the house that brings me home. I see the single light on in the living room. The clock on the dash reads 9:30 p.m., which tells me I got here in less than three hours. I haven’t been here since my father died. I avoided it like the plague, not ready to see the pictures of his smiling face hanging along the walls, or the smell of him in every room I enter. But here I sit outside. Home.
I get out of the truck, shutting the door and righting my jeans, adjusting them on my hips. Looking around at all the details as I take slow steps toward the front door, the little details of the house seem so much bigger in my claustrophobic state.
Taking my key, I slowly slide it into the lock and turn. The sound echoing through me, as well as the front entryway. I know Kathy is here, I know she is in the living room, probably reading, she used to do that every night. I remember it clear as day. No matter the night, I would come home from hanging with Kings, Lana, and Shay, or coming in drunk from some underage party, whatever night it was she was always there waiting for me with a book. Not waiting to discipline me, not waiting to yell, just waiting to make sure I got home safely, in one piece, like a real mother would.
“Mom?” I announce myself from the doorway, shutting it behind me.
“Trey, baby?” I stay where I am and wait for her to find me.
Rounding the corner from the front room, she peers up at me with a worried expression. When she sees the lost look on my face, she reacts.
“Oh, honey, what happened?” Walking right into me, her small frame engulfs me, her tiny arms wrapping around my chest, where she lays her head against my pecs. I return the embrace, clinging to her for comfort.
“Mom… Gwen left, she lied then she left,” I mumble out fast.
“Wow, wow, wow, baby, calm down, take a deep breath. Her hands rub up and down my back, and I won’t lie, I feel like a child again. For the first time in my life, I feel like a boy not a man.
She walks us into the living room, setting us down and I do my best to not lose it when I see my father’s pictures lining the wall. I notice Kathy’s book sitting open on the arm of the couch and it brings a smirk to my face for the first time in hours. I knew she was reading.
“Okay, tell me what happened?” she asks.
I do just that, in great detail, leaving nothing out. I tell her about Gwen and I and how we seemed so close to healing, when really it was all just a lie, but for what? I don’t think she did it just to try and change her mind about hating me. Which, by the way, those words cut open new wounds. Her words hit me harder than the ones in the letter she left my father. The entire time I tell her the shitstorm, she holds my shaking hand, my knee bouncing with quick motion as I lay my fucking heart out.
“Well.” I look up at her after I finish and she starts. Her lips are pursed to the side, her eyes are squinted, she looks mad. Holy shit, I have never seen Kathy mad, I have seen her every other emotion, but this is new. “Screw her,” she finishes bluntly.
“What?” I’m sure I misunderstood her.
“You heard me, son. She’s the one who’s missing out, she lost out on having you in her life for the second time. She’s obviously mentally unstable and can’t see what greatness she had in her son.” Her words feel welcoming, making my heartbeat settle.
“What would Dad say if he were here to hear this?” I swallow past the dry lump in my throat, the question leaving me before I have time to think about it. Her eyes flutter shut and she smiles.
They slowly reopen and she looks over to me. “Your father would pat your back, squeeze your shoulder, and say something about you being a better man and learning from this experience. Charles was always a positive man, looking for ways to see the light in even the darkest places.” She smirks, turning her head to the left, finding the photo of us three on my graduation day. My eyes follow and land on the memory adorning the mantel.
“My dad loved you so much, Kathy. We both loved you the moment you came into our lives, it may have just taken me longer to know it.” I look at the picture, it paints the picture of what a strong family looks like, what a loving family is. Smiles on our faces, joy in our eyes, my parents holding onto me tightly, their smiles prideful.
“I loved you since the moment your father let me meet you.” She smirks, I squeeze her hand in mine. Looking at our joined hands, she speaks again, “You know I may never be able to fill the void Gwen left but, Trey, you filled the void in mine. I never could have children, and I knew it was because God was waiting for me to find you. I never needed another; all I ever needed was you. Blood doesn’t make you my son, love does.”
“Mom…” I whisper on a released breath, pulling her into my side. How can she not think that she isn’t that important to me? Shit, maybe I never told her enough, or have I just been so wrapped up in fixing things with Gwen that I neglected to see Kathy right in front of me the whole time?
I kiss the top of her head, running my hand up and down her arm. “Mom, I do love you and you are my mother. The real deal, I know now, more than ever, that you were what I needed.” She sniffles and turns her head up at me, kissing my cheek and patting the other with her hand.
“My boy.” Kathy never could have children, never did I think of that in great detail, since I was selfishly worrying about me and my past. I healed Kathy and this whole time, if I would have just let the past go and paid attention, she could have healed me way sooner.
“You are heaven-sent, Mom, and I promise we will spend more time together. Mother and son,” I finish, smiling.
With a gleam in her eyes and her face drawn in contentment, she whispers, “I would love to spend more time with you, my sweet boy.” We untangle ourselves and she stands, straightening out her shirt. “Now, I made meatloaf, I have some left over if you would like some. You hungry?”
“Yes.” I wink, standing. I fucking love her meatloaf; it’s my comfort food when I come home.
