AllFreeNovel
Share Us
13
The house isquiet when I let myself in through the back doors. The smell of garlic bread assaults my senses as I enter the kitchen to find my mother in front of the stove stirring a pot and no one else in sight.
“Where’s Martha?” I ask in lieu of a greeting.
“I gave her the night off,” she replies, wiping her hands down the front of an apron she has tied around her waist.
“Well, this is a sight.” Sliding onto the nearest bar stool, I maintain eye contact with my mother. “Where did you find the apron?”
It’s off white with pink flowers. Roses I think, but I can’t tell because they’re so faded. I did notice the two large red splotches which I’m assuming are from her attempting to cook whatever she was stirring.
“Martha let me borrow it.”
“You’re going to need to buy her a new one. Those stains aren’t going to come out,” I state, pointing to the larger of the two spots.
“Is that really what’s on your mind right now, Taylor?” she asks, turning away from me. Her hands shake as she lowers the heat on the burner, stirring the pot once, before returning her attention back to me.
“I want to know why you refused to talk to me about my dad. About what happened to him,” I state, never taking my eyes of hers.
She hesitates for a brief second before closing her eyes and letting out a sigh. “It’s hard to talk about. Even after all this time.”
“I get that, but I have the right to know what happened. All you’ve ever said is that he was shot when he walked in on a robbery.”
“He shouldn’t have been there,” she whispers, lowering her head until her chin rests on her chest.
“And Steve is to blame?”
“He was directing the movie your father was working on. He knew that part of town was dangerous, yet he still insisted on filming there instead of building a set. He wanted it to be authentic and his tenacity is what killed your father. And he was with your father that night.”
The room grows tense as I wait for her to say more. When she doesn’t, I say what I think she needs to hear to finally put this behind her. Or maybe so I can. Because as much as talking about this hurts her, it hurts me, too. I never had the opportunity to know my father. He was stolen from me before I was born. I’ll always resent the person who took him away, but that person is not Steve Ansen.
“You can’t blame Steve. He didn’t force Dad to walk into that store. He didn’t pull the trigger.”
“No, I did,” she confesses, finally raising her eyes to mine, tears freely streaming down her face. “I’m the reason he was in that store. I asked him to stop and buy me ice cream. I was trying to give him a clue.”
“A clue?”
“He was rushing home because he knew I had a surprise for him. We’d been trying to get pregnant for months. I thought asking for ice cream would tip him off. It wasn’t something I ate a lot, but I was craving it. Rocky Road specifically. If he caught on to me, he never said. And instead of him walking through the door that night, there was a police officer standing on the porch telling me my husband had been shot.”
Her words are rushed, broken. Her voice shakes the entire time she speaks. I’m having a hard time breathing, my throat tightening up the more details she gives me. It’s not until the last sentence crosses her lips that I let out the first sob.
“Steve tried to be there for me. He introduced me to your father. He was a good friend, but I pushed him away. The sight of him made me ill. I needed someone to blame, so I blamed Steve for filming there, but I blamed myself for him being in that store that night.”
My mother rushes around the island, wrapping me in her arms. I’m taken by surprise, especially when I return her embrace. It doesn’t comfort me the way it should, but I have a feeling this is more for her than it is for me.
“I’m not quitting,” I finally say, pushing her away and sliding off the stool to stand. “I know you don’t want me working with him but that can’t be helped.”
“Taylor. You have to understand—” Her face is filled with anguish and concern. I’m not sure if it’s for me or for her, though.
“No, you need to listen to what I’m saying. I hear you, Mother. I get why my working with him is hard for you. He was dad’s best friend. He’s a reminder of the life you had before he was killed. That doesn’t change the fact that I have a job to do.”
“Please. Just think about this. Knowing what you know now, this is going to be hard for you. You get that, right?”
“And I’ll be fine. I’ll push through. Just like I did the last twenty-five years you’ve kept the details a secret from me. I’m kind of wishing you still had. You didn’t have to tell me. You didn’t have to storm into my hotel room in Nassau and make a scene. You could have kept your mouth shut like you always do but you didn’t. You made this an issue, and you can deal with it.”
Storming out of the kitchen, I don’t stop until I’m safely locked in the master bathroom of the pool house. Looking around, I realize I’m exactly where my mother always wants me.
Living under her roof.
