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“I don’t understand. Why’d you wake me up?”
“Because I’ve made a decision, and I didn’t want to get into an argument with you about it in front of the boys.”
“A decision about what?”
“We’re moving.”
“What?”
“First thing tomorrow, I’m calling a real estate agent and putting this house on the market.”
“What?” Dani says again.
“It’s high time we moved to a better neighborhood, preferably a gated community with a golf course, somewhere like where Julia’s son lives.”
Dani struggles to make sense of what her husband is saying. “Can we please talk about this in the mornin’?”
Nick climbs back into bed. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
—
Mark stands in the doorway to his grandmother’s bedroom, watching her sleep, the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders reassuring him that she’s alive and sleeping peacefully.
Which is a miracle, considering what he’s put her through lately.
He shakes his head, trying to erase the image of her confronting his dealer, his grandfather’s Smith & Wesson in her frail hands, the way the color drained from her face when it was over and she collapsed to the floor, and how for a minute, he thought she was dead. She’d spent two days in the hospital, for God’s sake.
All because of him.
And now, tonight. Her complexion and blood pressure were just starting to return to normal when Aiden had come flying out of nowhere to wrestle him to the ground.
“I don’t understand,” Julia had cried. “Why would he do such a thing? What’s the matter with him?”
Mark pushes his shoulders back, reliving the impact of Aiden’s body crashing into his.The lunatic could have killed me,he thinks, walking to the window and looking toward the house next door.
I’mthe matter with him,he acknowledges.I’m the matter with everything.
Maggie knows that. That’s why she doesn’t want him anywhere near her daughter.
To be sure, Erin’s age may have something to do with it—shit, is she really only sixteen?—but that’s not the only reason. It’s not even the main one.
The real reason Maggie doesn’t want him anywhere near her daughter is that she knows instinctively that he’s a loser, that despite his grandmother’s unwavering faith in him, he’s never going to be anything but bad news.
Mark tiptoes to the dresser and slowly opens the drawer containing Julia’s jewelry box. It’s too risky to open it here, so he carries it into his bedroom and closes the door. Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” assaults his ears as he opens the box and grabs a handful of gold chains, stuffing them inside the pockets of his jeans.
He returns the box to Julia’s dresser drawer, then crosses to her bedside and gently pulls the covers she’s dislodged in her sleep over her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Nana,” he whispers, kissing her dry cheek. “I love you.” Then he hurries down the stairs and disappears into the night.
