“Is that it?” he finally says.
Anger sparks. “Is that it?” I repeat. I’m finally ready to say the words I hardly ever utter in my life and that’s his response?
“Yeah.” He exhales heavily. “Is that all? You just wanted to say you’re sorry? For which part exactly?”
“I—”
“For trying to fuck with my relationship? For trying to tank Scar’s career? For breaking up the band and fucking up all our friendships? For what, exactly, did you want to apologize for, because I got a fucking list.”
Alright, well there goes the man of few words bit he was going for at the start of this.
I inhale sharply, trying to keep a rein on the defensiveness that comes second nature to me. This will get nowhere if I deflect. “I’m sorry for all of it, and I’d like to try to explain to you where I was coming from before, and how I truly never intended to hurt you. I was always trying to protect you.”
“Protect me?” he spits and chuckles. “That’s fucking insane. You?—”
“Just try to listen, okay? I’m trying to explain!”
I’m not sure what he must see on my face, but he chokes down his own rising anger and leans an elbow on the bar. He arches his brow at me, a silent permission to go ahead.
I open my mouth to speak, but my words get choked off. Embarrassment, memories, shame, fear, they all crawl up and suffocate me. My teeth sing as I clamp them down. I don’t want to think about my past, let alone talk about it. I can’t. Maybe this is irreparable.
A flash of red out of the corner of my eye. Then two blue eyes, shining in the low lighting. Soft pink lips tipped up in an encouraging smile.
Penny stays at the opposite end of the bar, but she’s looking my way. Mouthing something to me.
You can do this.
Walker doesn’t notice my shift in attention, or if he does, he doesn’t comment. Doesn’t ask who the woman is that is suddenly giving me the air to breathe and the balm to my fraying nerves.
Just the sight of her, the reminder that the past can’t hurt me because I’m here, she’s here, we’ve made it out, is all I need.
My voice is like sandpaper, foreign to my own ears, as I start. “When I first moved to Pittsburgh and we met at school, I never really told you guys why I ended up there. Why I was with a foster family.”
Walker’s hard face softens the smallest amount. “We never wanted to pry.” And that right there is why he, Nikolai, and Hayden quickly became my family. And it’s enough to keep going.
“I never knew my dad, so I grew up with a single mother. She was an alcoholic and an addict.”
Walker blinks, and I can see the wheels starting to turn behind his eyes.
“It was shitty growing up like that. We didn’t have any money and whatever she did have, she spent on gettingdrunk or high. And I spent my time cleaning up her vomit from the carpet after coming home from elementary school.
“A few concerned teachers over the years would call and someone would come out to make sure everything was okay, but she’d always pull it together enough to put on a show for them.” My knuckles turn white against the mug clenched in my hand. “And I never spoke up about it because…I don’t know. It was all I knew.”
“And she was your mom,” he says quietly.
“Yeah, but not in any way that ever counted.” At least one of her dealers brought me over that shitty acoustic guitar to bribe me away while he and my mom shot up in the living room. “It was a fucked up way to live, but I had managed it. Except one day my sophomore year, I had missed the bus home and we lived too far away for me to walk. So I called and called her and finally when she picked up, I could tell she had been drinking. But I still needed a ride. When she swerved into the parking lot, I knew it’d be safer if I drove us home.”
What I didn’t realize is that a teacher staying late that night had seen this all play out from her classroom window and called the police, worried about my safety.
“I wasn’t old enough to drive, or even have my permit yet. We were almost home when I got pulled over, and the moment the officer walked up to my window, I knew I was fucked. She was passed out in the passenger seat, reeking of liquor, and when she was arrested, the cop found drugs on her.”
Walker curses under his breath.
“I was put into foster care after that. And after two other temporary homes, I was moved to Pittsburgh with Patrick and Gina.”
“Fuck, man. I’m sorry. You were just a kid.” His eyesshine with tears I don’t want him to shed for me. It’s not his pain to carry. “Did you ever see her again after that?”
“I saw her grave a few years ago.” My words are cold, flat. As dead as she is. “During the hiatus, I went back to Pittsburgh and saw it.”
