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It was a new love, the words spoken but a few times between us. However, it was the start of something I had faith in. I truly thought he was my forever, and my heart is crushed in a way that doesn’t feel like it can be healed.
I push those thoughts away, bringing my mom to the forefront. If I’m lucky enough, she’ll have a sliver of conscience and will listen to me, because I need to walk away with three things accomplished.
I need her to understand that she hurt me in a way that no true mother would ever do to a child. From that, she should know she’s not my mother anymore. She’s nothing to me.
Next, I want the truth. Was this all a setup or was she really in trouble?
Lastly, I want to know where my journal is and how to get it back.
After that, I’m walking away for good, and she’ll be effectively cut from my life.
My phone rings, and it’s my dad. I answer, tapping the speaker phone as my car is too old for Bluetooth.
“You’re never going to guess where I’m going?” I ask as soon as we’re connected.
“Your mother’s? Because I know damn well you aren’t going to see Hendrix.”
I ignore that. “Her neighbor called. She’s back.”
“Swing by and pick me up,” he says.
“Nope. It’s out of my way.”
“Stevie,” he warns.
“I’m doing this right now. Plus… this is my fight, not yours.”
“Maybe so, but I’m starting to understand your mother has a little bat-shit crazy in her, and I don’t know that asshole she’s with. I’d feel better if I was with you.”
“And I love you for it, but no. I’m five minutes away from her.”
He curses under his breath but then sighs. “Fine. Call me as soon as you leave and given that I know what you’re going to say won’t take long, that means I expect a call in about fifteen minutes. No longer, do you hear?”
I hear him and promise to call. My hands grip the steering wheel so tight, by the time I pull into her driveway, they’re cramped. They ache as I shake them out.
With resolve, I exit my car and lock it as she doesn’t live in the best neighborhood. There’s not an ounce of uncertainty or fear within me. I am supremely confident in my quest, and I have zero mommy issues anymore stemming from her initial abandonment. In fact, that shit is so far in the past it’s irrelevant.
My legs are strong as I climb the porch steps, my spine a rod of steel. I don’t bother with the doorbell but bang on the door with my fist.
It swings open, and my mom stands there sporting a very nice tan. She doesn’t seem surprised to see me, and I can tell by her expression she knew this was inevitable. She almost seems to brace.
“How could you?” I demand.
Three little words. I’d planned on saying so much more, and yet that’s the only thing that comes out.
Instantly, my mom’s eyes fill with tears, and they spill down her cheeks. “Oh, Stevie… I’m so sorry.” She steps across the threshold, opens her arms as if to beckon me into a hug. I scramble backward to avoid the contact and glare at her. Her arms drop, but the tears continue. “It was Randy. He made me do it.”
“Made you do what?” I ask because I want the truth.
“Made me ask you for the money.”
“Were you ever in any trouble?” I demand.
“Yes. That part was real.” She ducks her head and looks chagrined as she wrings her hands. “It’s just… it wasn’t ten thousand dollars. We only owed about three, but they were very serious about getting it.”
“So you were beat up? That was real?”
Her gaze can’t hold mine, and she looks away. “Sort of. They did give Randy a message and roughed him up.”
“And your injuries?” I press, because that’s specifically what induced me to meet with the reporter.
She doesn’t respond but nibbles on her fingernail nervously.
“Mom,” I snap to get her attention.
“Randy did it,” she blurts out.
“To make me think you were in danger,” I say in disgust. I had considered that.
“Not quite,” she says softly, her fingers grazing over her cheekbone, although it’s no longer bruised. “He was mad I couldn’t get the money from you. We got into an argument. He gets angry really easy… I think it’s the steroids he takes, but he slapped me around. Then he told me to use it to coerce you into helping.”
“Jesus, you two are unbelievable,” I say, throwing up my hands. “So… you stole my diary, got the money, paid your debt, and went on a dream vacation to St. Lucia with the remainder, ruining my relationship with Hendrix in the aftermath?”
My mom wails, sobs wracking her body, but I quickly learn it’s not from regret for what she did to me.
