Page 19 of Jonny’s Redemption

“Jona—”

“But more importantly, don’t you think Caleb and Rory have had enough hurt?”

“I’m their grandmother,” she weakly protested, not addressing her drunken state. “And Calvin was their grandfather.”

“Was he?” he snarled, losing patience.

Jonny felt Bobby’s hand on his forearm. He looked down and watched as she slowly trailed her fingertips down his arm until their palms were together and she curled her fingers around his.

“Breathe,” Bobby whispered.

Jonny did not breathe in fear he’d exhale fire.

“That’s a horrible thing to say. I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”

Of course she wouldn’t know. She was too goddamn busy drowning her sorrows, same as she’d been since Jonny was ten. Same day, over and over. Same lie. Same bullshit.

Nothing ever changed.

No, that wasn’t true; it got worse.

Apparently, the silence had stretched on too long without Jonny doing what he always did after he lost his cool with his mother, which was to apologize. And Anita, unable to endure her son’s disapproval, broke that silence. When she did, Jonny lost the loose hold he had with his mother.

“You can’t imagine how hard this has been on me.”

“I can’t, Ma? Really?”

“Jona—”

“Oh, no. You’re right. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have my husband cheat on me. But you know what I don’t need to imagine? What it feels like to know the dad I loved, the man I looked up to, the man I thought was a good, decent man—wasn’t. I also don’t need to imagine what it’s like to not only find that out, but then watch my mother who is a good, decent woman turn into an alcoholic.”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” she denied.

“It’s not even eleven in the morning,” Jonny reminded her.

Bobby squeezed his hand and anger surged.

Anger at his father, his mother, his brother, the universe.

Secrets and lies.

Neither were of Jonny’s making yet he’d been forced to play along. His father’s indiscretions had been a black stain on the family. His “adopted” brother the breathing, walking proof Calvin Spencer was a dickhead. A child the community had praised the Spencers for fostering then adopting. A child who then grew into a teenager with anger issues. A child who grew into a man who was a shit husband, shit father, and in the end a man who snapped and killed his father.

And through all of that, Anita had sunk further and further into her misery. A woman who at one time was a good mother, turned sour.

Raising your husband’s love child would do that.

Lying to your friends, your relatives, your other child would do that.

“It’s a hard week for me, Jonathan. Your father’s birthday is—”

“Just stop,” Jonny interrupted her. “The drinking didn’t start after he died. It’s just gotten worse because he’s not around to cover for you. This isn’t the first conversation we’ve had about this. It isn’t even the tenth. I’ve begged you to get help. I’ve offered to pay for it. I’ve offered to take you to New York so you could be close to your brothers and no one in Cliff City would find out. Begged, Ma. Your son has fucking begged you to get help and still you deny you have a drinking problem.”

“You shouldn’t say the f-word to your mother, Jonathan, it’s disrespectful.”

Jonny’s chin dipped and his head lulled forward.

All the anger slid clean away and in its wake leaving nothing.