Noma tried again. “Not all secrets have malice.”
My ears rang so loudly I could barely hear, yet I had to keep my voice down. “A secret makes no sense. I feel like I saw them throughout my whole life.”
She winced while reassuring me, “You did.”
I wanted to explode, but Grandma had started answering me in a place I couldn’t—tricky woman. Staying as calm as possible, I growled, “How’s that keeping a good secret?”
Full of pity for me, she shrugged. “In plain sight, there are many hidden valuables.”
Instantly, I thought of the bag of money on the front seat… Then I thought about how this whole public conversation was proof of valuables. How could anyone guess we would be discussing such an important subject on the stairs to a pizza parlor?
“So,” I attempted, “bikers could just visit some kid without anyone guessing he was the son of an MC?—”
“That baby boy,” she pointed to me, “was the grandson of a woman that a biker was dating.” She exhaled the weighted secret. “That’s the only connection any onlookers were to see.”
Unsettled by the creepy notion, I cringed. “You pretended to date Dad?”
Her eyes widened. “What?” Even though this conversation was as heavy as a cement truck, she giggled. “No, silly. Another biker.” As soon as my mouth opened, she held up her little palm. “That book has already been checked out.”
Since she was shutting down her ‘library’, I rolled my eyes and mumbled, “How’d Grandpa feel about this ‘other’ biker?”
As if I were merely a library patron, she replied, “Dear, sir. Please check back to see if that book has been returned.”
I’m ready to burn down your library. “You just unloaded that men I love were—” I waved my hands madly, because I couldn’t say tortured without it possibly being overheard. “Because of me, yet I’m supposed to just ‘check back in’?”
“I must follow the rules set in place. I’m sorry that’s not good for your heart?—”
“If you understood what was good for my heart, you would understand how many questions I have.” I placed my hands on my hips and squeezed because I felt so trapped in a nightmare I didn’t create, yet was carrying so much blame for. “Damn, I’m starting to doubt who my true family is. Are you even my grandma? By blood, Noma?” I didn’t think she could be when putting me through all this cruelty.
I had struck her deeply. I saw it in her eyes. “Yes,” she answered in an eerie manner. Her palm cupped my cheek. “And that puts me in danger every single day. Danger, I have been and will always be willing to face. For you.”
I had just been a dick to the woman who was literally fighting to spare me the truth that she knew would alter me, even more than had already been done. My kind Noma had been trying to let me live as long as possible, naïve of the true dangers I had been too ignorant to recognize.
Noma was correct. She didn’t have a book in her library with the answers I kept demanding. But she did have enough to know that I was in way more trouble than I first believed. Unbeknownst to me until now, it appeared she had been living with this threat since I was born.
Not able to move, now seeing her in a different light, I watched as Noma put on a sweater even though the evening wasn’t cool enough to affect me in the slightest. She then turned to the pizza parlor. I grabbed my chest, observing very tired legs carry her upward, each wooden step resembling another day she wished she didn’t have to face. Her dancing hips now hinted at a frailness I wished I could unsee.
That had my childish and bratty ways dissolving long enough for me to witness a strength I hoped to call my own someday. Peering up in awe at the epic pillar in my life, red lights in the pizza parlor windows surrounded her silhouette like an angel the devil wished was his.
But she wasn’t.
Noma was all mine. She proved it every. Single. Fucking. Day.
My home. My shelter.
That very night, I promised myself to be better. If not for me, definitely for the one who endlessly loved me.
In a booth, I sipped on a coke, wondering about the toll all this was taking on her. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more patient. I know you want the best for me.”
With an endearing smile, she placed her hand to her chest. “In blood and heart.”
Nodding, I did the same. “Mad love for your crazy.”
She laughed, easing my worried soul. “If I’m crazy, what does that say for you, grandson?”
“I’m screwed?”
Another boom of laughter echoed in our booth.
