AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The teenager inside me, the one who ran in the middle of the night, doesn’t believe it. But I’m not a fucking kid anymore.
Two hours later, I’m on a flight to Texas. I didn’t pack anything—I’m not planning on staying the night. I just want to talk to her before I get the hell out of dodge again. I just want to know that there is light at the end of the tunnel, somehow. That after it all, my mom is okay, and that if she could make it through, then so could I.
The small town is nothing more than a hole in the ground. It’s unfamiliar, but they’re all the same. When I drive past the town pub, I can hear the music and raucous laughter coming from inside. Someone’s husband, someone’s father, is in there, getting shitfaced.
But not mine. Not anymore.
When I park in front of the tiny house at the edge of the town, I let the engine tick over while I stare at the shabby building. It’s not much, but the garden is neat, clearly tended to, with bright flowers in window boxes and music floating from inside.
The door opens a moment later, and my mom steps out of the porch. She squints, lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the sun and figure out who I am through the tinted car windows.
When I get out, her eyes track me all the way to the porch.
She’s a shell of who she used to be, old and frail and bent over, now. Her eyes are as weary as I remember them, but her hair is as white as snow, now, and her hands are wrinkled and crooked.
“What do you want?” she asks. “Are you from the bank?” She glances me up and down. When her eyes rest on mine, her face shifts. Recognition flickers in her eyes before they well with tears.
“Blake?”
“Hi, Mama,” I say.
She stares up at me and clasps her crooked hands to her mouth.
“Oh, my boy, it’s you.” She hesitates before she reaches her hand out to touch me as if she’s not sure I’m real. “How… where have you been?”
“New York,” I say. Hasn’t she read about me in the paper? Heard about me on the news?
She shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut, trying to gain control of herself.
“Do you want a cup of coffee?” she finally asks.
I nod. “That would be nice.”
I follow her into the house. It’s sparse, with only the bare necessities, but it's clean and cozy and she has a vase with wildflowers on the coffee table. I don’t recognize the furniture at all.
My mom busies herself in the kitchen, putting a kettle on the stove. She prepares two cups with instant coffee from an old tin and adds sugar to both.
“You still drink sugar?” she asks, freezing.
I nod.
She visibly relaxes. She’s still on edge. Even after my dad’s been gone for a while.
When she brings the coffee to the living room, we sit in awkward silence. I hold the cup between my hands, looking at the milky liquid.
“You’ve done well for yourself,” my mom says.
I nod. “I’ve thrown myself into business. I had a lot I wanted to forget.”
“Including me.”
I purse my lips. “That’s not how it is. I wanted you to come with me.”
She shakes her head. “You know I couldn’t just leave. He was your father, Blake. We weremarried.For better or worse. I know you only see the bad, but there was good too.”
“You’re right; I didn’t see it,” I say tightly. “I only remember theworsepart of your vows.”
Mom shakes her head and sips her coffee. She looks everywhere but at me. I feel like shit for leaving her behind, and I want to make things right with her. But she’s upset with me for leaving—I guess I can’t blame her—and set on pushing me away.
