AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Josie walked back into the living room, her purse slung over her shoulder, and a sweet smile on her face. When she’d left that money for me on my bed that morning, I felt like the crappiest person alive. How could I be so mean to this girl that did something so sweet for me?
Images of how the hate all started tried to surface, begging me to run in the opposite direction, but I didn’t want to anymore.
I wanted Josie Lee and Keith King wouldn’t stand in my way—no one would, not even the little boy cowered down inside.
He needed to grow up—I had.
***
My mother’s snarky smile widened when I handed her the five hundred dollars and paperwork to sign. She’d been sitting cross-legged in a worn-down recliner in the living room, a cigarette in one hand and the other hanging off the arm of the chair.
“Well, look who decided to show up,” she said over another drag. I stood in the middle of the living room, the ceiling tile leaked from the recent rain beside me, and spread the mold that covered the roof above us. She counted the money slowly, putting her cigarette out on the bottom of her flip-flop. “You still think you can take care of him?”
I just wanted her to sign so I could leave. The smell of garbage and stall cigarette smoke sank deep into my veins. “I gave you the money, now sign the paper.”
She chuckled, standing up on pencil-thin legs, I noticed the track marks on her forearms. I wanted to be sad for her but I couldn’t muster up an ounce ofcare.
“You think you’re better than me? You always have. Because you got into college? Because you got good grades, well I’ll tell you something, Maverick,” she said, poking my chest, “You grew up in this dump just like me.”
I fought off the urge to strike her. My mother. She’d been part of my problem growing up, part of the reason I held so much hate in my heart, but I didn’t want to be like her.
“Sign it,” I snapped.
She scoffed, scribbling her name down onto the paper the lawyer emailed to me, and shoved it at my chest. “Good riddance to both of you, I didn’t want either of you.”
I chuckled. “That’s evidentially clear.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, picking up a can of beer from the table and chugging it. I turned to leave when she grabbed my elbow. “Answer me.”
I glanced down at her hollowed cheeks, wondering if she didn’t remember everything she let happen to us—to me, because I couldn’t let those things happen to Frankie. He deserved better. “You know.”
She looked bewildered before chuckling. “You’re dramatic, Kid.”
“You’re pathetic,” I said before grabbing the door handle. “Maybe if you stopped shooting up, you’d remember all the things you let happen to your kids. We didn’t ask to be here.”
The dark roots of her hair were longer than I remembered from last time, stopping by her ear which faded into a nasty orange color. Vaguely, in the back of my mind, I remembered what she was like at age five. Kind. Motherly. Until he showed up and all it took was one time for her to become addicted.
The motherly hugs turned into late nights alone.
The three meals a day turned into a scarce every other day can of tuna and crackers.
My mother changed and couldn’t stop.
“You’re right,” she said. “I should have had that abortion your dad wanted.”
I didn’t respond, because she wanted that, I walked out of the house, not caring that Frankie’s clothes and belongings were still there. I’d get a job and buy him more. She shouted something from the front porch, but I blocked out everything other than my heavy uneven breaths.
My truck rumbled beneath me as I sped down the road, only stopping once I crossed the railroad tracks into the better part of town, and pulled over on the shoulder of the highway.
I’d given up on tears as a child, knowing they would go unheard, but today they felt needed. They stormed my cheeks as I pressed my forehead against the hard leather of my steering wheel and sobbed like a child.
Maybe the child in me hadn’t healed, and I didn’t know how to help him. Or maybe I hadn’t grown as much as I thought I had.
I felt the need to drown my sorrows in a keg of hard liquor—or touch the girl who didn’t want me—kiss her. Love her. Either way, I felt void of emotion once I pulled back onto the highway.
Anger built in my chest, and my overheated mind only knew a few ways to get relief.
Chapter Thirteen
