Page 93 of Jonny’s Redemption

“Half the house is demolished.”

“You knew it was happening,” his uncle reminded him.

And he had. Anita had called him. The conversation had been strained and short, but she was sober. She also sounded timid when she told him her plans.

“We discussed this. I thought you were on board.”

Jonny was, or at least he thought he was, but seeing the home he grew up in—even if those years were pain-filled and shitty—was still a hard, bitter pill to swallow.

“I gotta call Ma.”

“Jon—”

“I’m fine, Uncle, I just need to tell her something.”

“Okay then. We’re still on for next week.”

Shit, was their visit to New York already next week?

“Yep. We’ll see you then.”

Jonny hung up and stared as the bucket of the backhoe surgically demolished what was left of the living room.

Then he dialed his mother.

“Jonathan.”

Shy. Timid. Sober.

“Hey, Ma. I just wanted to let you know that…um…”

Let her know what? The house was being demolished? She knew that. Work had started? She likely knew that, too. That all his boyhood memories were literally being loaded into a dumpster?

“You’re there,” she whispered.

“Yeah.”

“I know I’m thirty years too late, son,” Anita said.

“Too late?”

“Should’ve burned that house to ash and been a mother. Instead, I kept you locked in my misery. I failed you. I failed myself. I will regret what I’ve done to you until the day I die. I regret every mean, horrible thing I said to you. I regret the mean, horrible things I cannot remember saying to you but I know I said them. Erasing that house will not take back the things I’ve done. It will not give you back the childhood I ruined, or any of the days, months, years I stole from you. But today is the beginning. Today the physical reminder of what a horrible woman I became will go. And tomorrow I can begin to make amends. Days, months, years, for the rest of my life I will seek your forgiveness. I love you, son. You’re the only person I ever loved.”

Jesus fuck.

That wasn’t the first time his mother had apologized. The first time was the day after Bobby had been kidnapped when Anita was allowed phone privileges from rehab. That was a month ago and since then Anita called once a week. The conversations were short, they were strained, but each one she was sober. And each time she acknowledged the pain she’d caused the knot in Jonny’s gut lessened.

“Well, Ma, I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t burn it down. You know Chief Wilcox isn’t a fan of arson,” Jonny said in an attempt at levity.

“Yeah, well, he was less of a fan of Calvin so I don’t think he’d arrest me. But I don’t think the neighbors would’ve been pleased.”

That was another thing, Anita had not referred to Calvin by anything other than his name. Not “your father” not “my husband.” The man was Calvin.

“Right. Well, I’ll let you go, Ma, I just wanted to let you know work started.”

There was a beat of silence then in a slightly more confident tone she said, “I’d like it if someday when you’re ready, we could start making memories. A fresh start. I’d like to get to know my son. When…you’re ready…of course. No pressure. I mean…”

“Ma.”