Page 34 of Jonny’s Redemption

Unfortunately, Jonny didn’t miss the odor when he walked in the door.

“What the fuck?” His nose scrunched as he sniffed the air. Then his eyes dropped to my yellow-gloved hands and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “What. The. Fuck?”

“Jonny,” I whispered.

I didn’t know what else to say. He knew. It didn’t matter that I cleaned away the bottles and scrubbed the kitchen—he still knew. I wondered how many times he’d found his mother’s house in this state. Then I wondered why his mother still lived in the house that Jonny had grown up in. The same house where her husband and son were killed. The same room I was now standing in.

Why would she force Jonny to relive the nightmare every time he came to see her?

God, that was fucked-up.

I couldn’t stop the chill that ran up my spine. Yes, it was so much better that my mother bailed when she did. I would rather live the rest of my life with the fear of abandonment coursing through my veins than have to watch my mother live like Mrs. Spencer did. It was beyond cruel. I hated Jonny being in this house.

“How many bags did you haul outside, Bobby? Two? Three?”

Damn.

“Two,” I answered him honestly.

A door creaked open and suddenly Mrs. Spencer appeared. She hadn’t changed her clothes. This was unfortunate.

“You’re unbelievable,” he hissed. “You play the part well. Mourning widow in funeral black, visiting her loving husband on his birthday. Though you always did, didn’t you? The good wife, standing by her husband, pretending to be a perfect family. When it was all a bunch of shit.”

“Jonathan,” Mrs. Spencer gasped.

Her scared gaze skidded to me but she couldn’t draw up the courage to ask me to leave even if the request was clear. She didn’t want me to know the truth and had no way of knowing I already did.

“You could’ve killed someone!” he roared.

Waves of hostility rolled off of Jonny, the air so thick with anger it was enough to choke an elephant. Mrs. Spencer had the good sense to flinch but didn’t offer an apology.

“Jesus Christ. You don’t even care. You’re so far up your own ass, drunk all the time you do not care you could’ve killed someone today. Tell me, Ma,” he spat the word like it tasted bad. “How many times did you drive to the liquor store smashed? More worried about another bottle of vodka than some innocent motorist on the road. Is it worth it? Huh? Tell me, is it so important you stay numb to your lies that you’d risk killing someone?”

“Today’s hard for me, Jonathan. You know that. Your father—”

“Stop talking,” he cut her off. “I’m done.”

“Your father—”

“You mean the piece of shit who cheated on you? That father? The one who brought his love child into my home and crushed my mother. That father? The one who continued to fuck other women while you raised his child. That’s the father you’re talking about? Because if you are, I’ll tell you I hope he’s rotting in hell. I don’t give the first fuck it’s his birthday. I don’t care if it’s hard on you. And you wanna know why? Because I am done watching you slowly kill yourself. I’m done with you picking him over me. I’m done with you pretending that we were some happy family when we absolutely were not. I hated him while he was breathing and I hate him now.”

Jonny pulled out his phone and started stabbing at the screen. Through this, I was watching Mrs. Spencer and to my horror, she didn’t get on her knees and beg her son’s forgiveness for hurting him. She didn’t sob her apology and tell him she loved him more than life. She stood silently looking like she was the wounded party.

I looked back at Jonny and my heart broke. He didn’t look like a man who was done. He looked like a man who was beaten down. A boy who loved his ma. Why couldn’t she see what she was doing to Jonny? Or if she did, why didn’t she care?

“Yeah, Uncle Bryan.” Jonny’s voice boomed through the room. “Sorry to bother you but we have a problem. If you can, I need you to come down and talk to your sister.”

“Jonathan,” Mrs. Spencer snapped.

Gone was the shrinking, wounded woman. She looked positively outraged. However, she was no match for her son’s cold detachment. He was too far gone to acknowledge his mother’s anger.

There was a short pause then Jonny went on, “I’ll explain everything when you get here. You should plan on staying a few days, but when you leave you’re taking her with you. She’s an alcoholic, has been most of my life.”

Mrs. Spencer moved with shocking speed and lunged for Jonny. He easily sidestepped her. Without removing the phone from his ear he told his mother, “Unless you want to find yourself in handcuffs twice in one day, you’ll move away and sit down.”

She didn’t sit down but she did step back. She narrowed her eyes on her son and snarled, “Get out of my house. You’re no longer welcome.”

If Mrs. Spencer’s unkind words hurt Jonny he didn’t let on. His stoic face showed no emotion. I, on the other hand, was ready to pull the woman back into her bedroom kicking and screaming if necessary. I didn’t want her anywhere near Jonny.