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“Yes.”
“Fuck.”
“Exactly.”
“Where can I research the builder and the project?”
“Check out what they’re doing on the other side of the Edwards Aquifer. It’s the same builders and developers, with very similar planned communities. Take a trip to the old towns. You’ll see.”
“What else can we do?”
“Well, that’s where this gets interesting.”
We talk for another hour. Jon Barret walks me out to my car.
“Thanks, Jon. I can’t say how much I appreciate you’re cluing me in to this. How did you find out?”
“Because they’ve asked me to represent them.” He stares down the street before turning and holding my gaze firm. “And I’ve agreed.”
What the hell?
* * *
Brighton
Four days after Mom passed,on a bright, sunny morning, I stand with my brothers, Pop, and our community friends as we lay her to rest.
I’m numb.
That’s not wholly true. I’m numb to certain things, but other senses are heightened. My mind’s checked-out, but my emotions are on a low simmer, only a degree or two below a full boil. All of them fester under the surface leaving me more and more raw by the moment.
I’m sad.
I’m overwhelmed.
I’m fucking angry.
I’m even relieved.
That last one is a mindfuck, all on its own.
Relief.
Not for me, but for Mom, for her suffering being over. Guilt rears its ugly head, because I find myself wishing that it wasn’t over. What daughter wishes her mom more suffering just to have less for herself?
I have no idea what the pastor says. I’m sure it’s lovely and meaningful and kind. But I don’t care.
When the shiny casket starts to lower, I’m gone.
I mean no disrespect to my mother. I just can’t watch. Not her final act being so final.
I mean no disrespect to my brothers either or to Pop. The man sits in a covered chair, watching his very soul being mechanically lowered into the ground. Stoic. Stiff. And utterly silent.
I’ve made it several yards to my car when I feel an arm wrap around my shoulder, only to look up into Eli’s sad face. He pulls me into a hug. “I’m sorry, Bright. Everyone knows how tough you are. But sometimes they fail to remember how fiercely you love your family and that your strength is a façade. I know this hurts.”
He holds me tight, and I can’t escape, so I hug him back, forcing down my bubbling emotions so I don’t lose it a-fucking-gain. I sniffle against his lapel. “It’s not a façade.”
“Bullshit. Come on, let’s get you back to your family.” He turns me, an arm firm around my shoulder, sliding down to my lower back as we get back to my brothers.
