Page 53 of Second Chance

25

Keepers of Secrets

[Denton]

Holy fuck. I take a deep breath and lower my head to the steering wheel. My eyes close and I want to squeal with glee like a teenage girl. I just ate the woman of my dreams, the girl I’ve wanted since high school, and she was amazing. My fingers coast under my nose, smelling her. Nothing compares to the taste lingering on my lips.

It was awkward there at the end, so I told her I’d see her later, just like when we were kids. I kissed her one more time and stole out her front door. Realizing time passes as I sit in my car parked down the street, I fire up the engine and head to the Lodge. I wanted to stay, let her finish unbuckling me and bury myself in her, but not tonight. One step at a time, I realize. Mati needs my reassurance especially when her hands covered her belly, and I lost her for a moment.

I don’t need to know where she went. She called my name, but did she feel me? Did she know it was me kissing her, touching her, tasting her? I want to believe she did, but I’m not convinced she didn’t slip in her thoughts and imagine me as someone else. Someone no longer present.

I have no idea what kind of marriage Chris and Mati had. I couldn’t even guess, especially as mine was so short-lived and unhappy. Was he gentle with her like he was as a teen? Did he get rough with her, tease her, talk dirty to her? Did he keep it clean and missionary, or did he make her scream like she did for me? These questions fill me with doubt I never feel when I consider a woman. Then again, I don’t put so much thought into most of them. I get in and get out, which is not what I want to happen with Mati. I want all of her, yet how fair would that be? I’m making lists and forming plans for the future, but my end goal remains the same—leave.

+ + +

I meet Dolores at Magnolia’s the next day, and in the quiet of our mother’s sick room, I mention the inevitable.

“What will we do with everything?”

“What do you mean?” Dolores asks, her eyes not leaving our resting mother.

“The farm. The diner. Magnolia.”

Dolores’s head shoots up to me. “Nothing will happen with any of those things. I’ll take care of everything like I always do.” Bitterness rings in her voice, and I understand. She’s right. She’s been here all along, but I’m here now. I’m not staying, but I’m here for the time being.

“Dolores, let me help you.”

“How?” Dolores snaps, her hand reaching for Mother who lies there unresponsive.

“We could sell the farm. Use the money to improve the diner.”

“And what about Magnolia?”

“We’ll find her a place in town.” The answer seems simple enough. She lived there once upon a time when her husband owned the hardware store, and she ran the diner.

“Denton, you can’t move an eighty-year-old woman from her home. It will kill her.”

“Dolores,” I sigh, running a hand down my face. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Lores,” she mutters under her breath, and I exhale again. I’m not calling my sister this name dubbed by the motorcycle putz who can’t even bother to come here and comfort her. How did she get mixed up with Crusty Rusty anyway? I stare at my sister. Dark hair with a blue cast covers her grays. Her blue eyes are bright from exhaustion. We don’t really look like siblings. We can pass as them but only upon a deep inspection. Dolores looks so much like my mother did once. Her hair. Her eyes. Her pale skin. My mother was always thin, sad, drunk. While my father was an alcoholic, my mother ran a close second to his ability to put away the alcohol. In her defense, she drank to disappear from him. Maybe it was to numb the effects of him.

“Why do you think she stayed?” I ask. Silence follows my question, and for a second, I wonder if I spoke out loud. I glance over at Dolores who continues to stare down at our mother.

“I think she was afraid to leave him. Maybe she thought she had no alternative. Where would she go? Back here? He took so much from her. She didn’t go to college. She didn’t have a skill. She was his wife. Nothing more.”

“She was our mother,” I add.

“I think that frightened her even more.”

I pause, taking in my sister who peers at my mother. I don’t know this woman any more than I know the woman lying on her deathbed. How are these people my family? How have I lost touch with them?

“He never…he never hurt you, right? I mean, even after I left. He didn’t come for you.”

“He never touched me. Insulted, yes, but never laid a finger on me.” Dolores sighs, lowering her head. “He was nasty in his own right, but nothing like he was with you or with her.” Her gaze returns to our mother. “He hated her in the end.”

I don’t want to know, and yet I feel it’s only fair for Dolores to tell me.

“What happened?”