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I make it clear I’m not talking until she starts giving me some answers.
“Polly told me where you were staying, and I saw the officers sniffing around your car, so I had to come up with some excuse to get them off your trail,” she explains, nervously fidgeting with the neckline of her pink sweater.
“So that was all bullshit? No one got robbed?” I ask, raising my eyebrow at her.
“No,” she replies softly as she attempts to sit near me.
I almost fall over my feet as I jump off the sofa quickly, not wanting to be anywhere near her.
She bites her lower lip but settles on the stained cushions, ignoring my insolence.
“What happens when they find out you were lying?” Quinn asks from behind me.
“Oh, Mr. Bourke did get robbed, but that was in 1984. It’s a story he loves to retell over and over as he still thinks it’s 1984,” she explains, her eyes flicking to Quinn’s.
My mother preyed on the senile, old mind of poor Mr. Bourke, and as much as I hate to admit it, that was ingenious thinking on such short notice. But I would rather cut out my own tongue than admit that to her.
“Thanks. But that doesn’t answer my question.”
“You have every right to be angry with me, Mia. I have been awful to you. But I’m here to ask for your forgiveness,” she says nervously, lowering her eyes when I scoff at her suggestion.
“Forgiveness? Forgive you for what, exactly? Because from where I stand, that’s a shitload of forgiveness you’re asking for.”
Every time I open my mouth, I tell myself to shut up because she’s making an effort, something she hasn’t done before. But the anger and rage overtake my sanity, and insulting her is the only way for me to deal right now.
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” She stands up and reaches out to me.
Again, I back away and bump straight into Quinn. I calm down because I want to know why she’s here.
“I’m sorry for everything, and you’re right. You do deserve answers.”
I try not to prematurely celebrate until I’ve heard the last of her speech.
“But you must understand, this is hard for me, too. I have repressed these memories for a very long time, and I can’t just speak about them right away. I also need time to digest it all.”
Rubbing my forehead in frustration, I realize I may be eighty by the time she’s ready to talk. Of course, I understand what she means, but that doesn’t make it any easier to process.
“So I propose you stay with me and Polly, and let’s get to know one another. I promise to answer all your questions in time. And I promise to listen to everything you have to say.”
“How long?” I press through clenched teeth. The thought of living under the same roof as Pollyanna sounds like a bad,badidea.
Cynthia straightens out her pressed slacks as she replies, “I don’t know. I mean, there isn’t really a timeframe on something like this.”
“No,” I spit, stepping away from the comforting sanctuary of Quinn’s body. “No way am I playing happy families. I can’t stay with you, pretending nothing has happened.”
“That’s not what I’m asking, Mia. My home is big enough for you and Quinn to come and go as you please without fear of being on the run from the police and your fa—” She doesn’t finish her sentence as she clutches the gold locket around her neck.
The events of the past few days have totally shifted my priorities, and my father has been low on the list of things to worry about, which has been careless. She does have a point, but I won’t submit just because she thinks it’s a good idea.
As I’m about to object, Quinn speaks softly. “Red, she has a point. I mean, today was close. At least we wouldn’t have to keep looking over our shoulders. And we can also figure out what to do next without fear of your dad and the cops on our asses.”
He’s right, but my stubbornness yells at me not to surrender.
“Red?” my mother questions with a small smile, looking over my shoulder at Quinn.
“Yeah.” Quinn quietly chuckles. “Her temper earns her that well-deserved nickname.”
My mother smiles, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear, and nods at his comment.
