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Thisclose,Irealize her smell has changed from floral perfume to something more sweet and spiced.Everythingelse about her is exactly the same asIremember, except for a sadness in her eyes and a few more streaks of gray.Westare at each other for a minute, like neither of us knows what to say.
“Youleft me,”Iblurt. “Whydid you leave me?”
Carefully, giving me a chance to pull away, she puts her arm around me and draws me in to her side.Iused to curl up against her shoulder for hours while she read aloud and stroked my hair.Mybody doesn’t fit the same as it did even three years ago, butIpull my knees up and stare at the bookshelves on the far wall as she talks.
“Haydenconvinced me to apply for jobs inCalifornia, before all this happened.Iknow now that he had a mistress here, and all kinds of drug-user friends.”I’venever heard anything as close to pure hatred in my life as the way she spits out the syllables of his name. “Igot an offer at a children’s clinic here, andIwas going to tell you about it that night.WhenIgot home,Haydentold me that he had tried to explain about the move and you were furious.Accordingto him, you said all kinds of horrible things, packed your bag, and left.”
Shepulls in a shaky breath. “Ididn’t believe him, but he showed me your room.Yourclothes were all gone, along with your backpack.ThegiftsI’dgiven you, the pencils, your books, your toy car, were all broken or thrown in the trash.Andyou left your phone behind soIcouldn’t contact you.Iwas so devastated thatIcouldn’t think clearly.Hesaid we had to take the job and leave, but whenIbegged him for more time, he lost his temper.Fromthat day on, he was never the same.Everythingbad that happened to him was my fault.Iwas a stupid, spoiled woman who raised an ungrateful leech of a child.I’mdeeply ashamed thatIcouldn’t find the strength to leave him before he overdosed.Withoutyou,Iwas half a person.Ibarely had the will to get out of bed each day, andIlived in fear of him.”
“Mom,”Ichoke out, wrapping her soft hand in both of mine. “I’mso sorry.”
“No.”Shetilts my face toward hers and searches my eyes.Ican see more tears threatening to spill over. “NothingIjust said was an excuse.Ifyour boyfriend could track me down without a single clue, thenIshould have been able to find you again.Ican never be sorry enough, or grateful enough toBeckhamfor what he’s done.”
Iopen my mouth to insist that it’s nothing, but to my surprise, that feels dishonest.Sittinghere next to her,Ican feel the painful edges of thingsI’vetried to bury.Somepart of me has wondered every single day whatIdid wrong, what made me not worth searching for.Isqueeze her hand in mine, massaging the tissue between her thumb and palm that helps ease her headaches. “Iforgive you.I’vechanged a lot, and so have you.Iwant to make up for lost time and erase that fucker from our lives.”
Swallowingher tears, she replaces them with that tough, unshakeable smileIremember so well as she brushes my hair back and pats my cheeks. “You’vegotten so handsome, and your eyes are so much wiser.”
Ican feel myself blushing.There’sso muchIneed to tell her; it’s going to take weeks to catch up.Butwe have all the time in the world now. “Ishould get some sleep and make sureBeck’sokay.Pullingthis together stressed him out,Ithink.”
“I’llsee you in the morning.Imay need to go out early and buy extra eggs and bacon for those boys.”Shepecks my cheek and helps me stand up.AsIhead for the door, she catches my hand and tugs me back.Ican hear the clock on the wall ticking quietly as she just drinks me in for a minute in silence. “Theday you were born,” she says slowly, “IthoughtIcould never love you more.ButwhenImet my son, that love felt small by comparison.Seeingyou today, everything you’ve become…Ididn’t know this much love was possible.Gettingto know each other again may not always be easy, butIjust want you to know that.”
23
DALLAS
Something'soff withBeck.He’sstill awake whenIcome skipping upstairs in a state of complete emotional overload.Ibrush my teeth in the en suite and babble at him through a mouthful of toothpaste about everything my mom said. “Itold you she didn’t want to leave,” he says with a tired smile asIplop on the bed next to him. “SometimesI’ma little bit right.”
Itilt my head at him, but he doesn't quite meet my eyes. "Areyou alright?"Maybeit's because he ate twice his body weight in samosas.
"Yeah."Hedrops his head back on the pillow.Thisbed feels like it literally descended from heaven on a cloud compared to the ones at home. "We'vejust been up since dawn..."
"Andspent three hours in a death trap,"Ioffer with a grin, quoting his rant from earlier today after he almost peed himself in terror on takeoff.
Heslaps my butt. "Exactly.AndIjust met my, like, mother-in-law.SoI'mtrashed.Comehere."
Hisbig hands wrap around my waist and haul me into bed next to him.Herolls half on top of me and crushes me to his chest like he does when he's having a bad dream. "Ilove you more thanIlove lamb," he mumbles into my hair.
"AndIlove you more than you hate flying."
Hejust groans and wriggles deeper into the bed.
WhenIwake up, he's not touching me.Iprop myself on my elbows, trying to orient my body to my location.Thered digital clock on the dresser says three-thirteenAM.Ifeel around the bed, in caseIlost him somehow, but he's not here.Theen suite is dark and empty.Hemust have gone downstairs to get water.
Ishould wait, but something pulls me out of bed and toward the door.JustwhenIgrab the handle,Inotice that the window on the far side of the room is open wider than it was when we went to sleep, and the screen is sitting propped against the wall.Panicclenches in my chest for a second beforeIremember that we’re in a safe, affluent neighborhood, notParadisePeaks.
WhenI'vegotten control of my thumping heart,Icreep over to the window and stick my head out into the muggy night.Thegently-sloped garage roof comes right up to the sill, butIcan't see anyone on this side of the peak.I'mabout to head downstairs whenIhear a soft sound, like a whimper.Noteven bothering to put on a shirt,Ihike my leg up and clamber awkwardly onto the rough shingles.I’mnot particularly high up or close to the edge, but this feels like the most daring stuntI’veever pulled.
Iforget my sense of vertigo whenIcrawl up to the peak of the garage and look down the other side.Beckis curled up in a ball with his head resting on his tightly pulled-up knees.Hisshoulders jerk andIrealize the soundIheard was a hoarse, wrenching sob.Ijust stand there and stare with my mouth open, because no matter what, no matter where or when or how, it’s a fact of the universe thatBecknever cries
Hecoughs out another sob, then another, squeezing his legs to his chest.Whenmy foot scrapes on a shingle, he jerks his head up.Hiseyes are red and wet, with tears glistening on his cheeks.Helooks scared, like his body is malfunctioning in ways he doesn’t understand.
Hewipes his face roughly, trying to bite down on his hiccuping breaths. "I'mfine.Justgo back to bed."
"Areyou kidding me?"Iscoot down the slope on my butt, becauseI’mterrified of tripping and rolling off into the azalea bushes.WhenIreach his side,Itry to brush his hair back from his face.Insteadof looking at me, he pulls away and hides his face again, sniffling and choking a little. "What'shappening,Beck?Talkto me."
Heshakes his head firmly. "I'mokay.Thiswhole thing is just a lot.There'snothing wrong."
Isilently hold out my pinkie to him.Hestares at it for a long time before he rests his cheek on his knee and closes his eyes.Carefully,Islide my cool hand up under the back of his shirt and rub the hot, thick muscles along his spine.Myheart aches as he dissolves back into a series of miserable sobs before he manages to pull himself out long enough to catch his breath and dry his face.
