The air conditioner kicks on. I take that as my cue to get up, rinse my mug, and head to the small guest room Liz keeps for me. Entering, I take in the space. It hasn’t changed in years. The quilt stretched over the twin bed smells like lavender and the memories of the onlyreal homeI’d ever known. Yet, when I slide beneath it, sleep refuses to come. Every creak in the house, every gust of wind against the shutters, makes my pulse jump.
When I finally drift off, it’s to the faint sound of thunder rolling in, and a flash of memory I can’t shake. A pair of dark aviators, glinting beneath the summer sun. And the ghost of a voice whispering in my ear.
“Shh. It will be our little secret.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DAVE
“Hey, Mom.”I gently close the door behind me, trying not to drop anything. “I stopped at Udo’s and picked up some bagels and the flavored cream cheese you like.”
Mom walks toward me, face expressionless. “Thanks, dear. And you brought more flowers. That was kind of you.”
“Yes. But they’re actually a gift from my friend, Tuesday. Remember the girl I told you about, who owns the flower shop in Sycamore Mountain? She took care of all of the floral arrangements for the all-day wedding marathon my friends had. These reminded me of the flower garden you used to spend so much time tending when I was a kid.” I hand her the wrapped bouquet of wildflowers, hoping the sight will bring a smile. Yet while the corners of her mouth curve upward, it’s forced. Her facial expression doesn’t match the dull look in her eyes. But sadly, I knew the chances of a genuine breakthrough were slim.
Clinical depression is an insidious bedfellow. A marriage of isolation and loneliness. The heinous effects feed on themselves. She’d already become depressed at my father’s brutal betrayal and ultimate rejection. This led her to seclude herself from those around her. Likely out of self-preservation. But this isolation leads to loneliness, which only further feeds the depression. And while I’m sure the multiple medications used to treat her condition are helping, they only seem to further dim her once bright light.
I’m fairly certain my mother had a fair degree of depression before my father announced he was leaving her.Okay, us. He was leaving us.
Yet it’s difficult to identify this when you’re young. Particularly when the subject in question is your own mother. She hid so much from me back then. However, looking back, there were signs that my father’s lack of involvement in our lives had started to do a number on her.
It’s taken years of treatment to build enough trust in her therapists to leave the confines of her apartment to go to meals in the main dining area or work in the greenhouse. I have hope all isn’t lost. That this isn’t all there is left for her in this life.
I’d give anything if she’d agree to move to Sycamore Mountain with me. Though progress has been incremental, she’s finally joining in with some small groups. And by join, I mean she’s physically present. Just not engaging, from the feedback I’ve gotten from her case worker. If I interrupted her headway, I’m not certain she’d receive the type of social interaction she needs to continue to heal. I mean, the blue-haired women of Sycamore seem nice enough, but I don’t know any of them well enough to assure she’ll make connections.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
Retrieving the cell phone from my pocket, I grimace as my father’s name flashes on the screen. Hell. It’s as if he knows I’m in town. “Mom, I’m going to step outside to take this. Can you put the flowers in some water?”
She nods as I head for the back door to her small patio. “Hello.”
“I’m surprised you answered.”
Me too.Guess I was so focused on preventing Mom from realizing who was on the other end of the line I hadn’t been thinking clearly enough to let the call roll to voicemail.
“David? You still there?”
“Yes. Is there something you needed?” I refuse to apologize to this asshole.
“Cordial as ever. I was just calling to remind you we have an opening at the firm with your name on it, but the clock is ticking. Once the board decides to put someone else in your place, it will be nearly impossible to make any changes.” His voice gets louder, as ifhe’s delivering a practiced speech. “This was your grandfather’s legacy. That you take your rightful seat here. They will not be happy about vetting someone else, just for you to stroll back in at your leisure when money gets tight.”
“I don’t know how much clearer I need to make it. Rightful seat or not, I have no interest in that lifestyle. So let them vet whomever they like.”
“You’re being absurd about this, David. All of this running around playing superhero. At the cost of your inheritance. Think of your future. If not for you, your children.”
“Ha! What children?” I blurt. “You think after watching what you did to my mother and how you’ve treated me I’d ever consider having children? I’d never risk letting a child grow up the way I did.” I take in a breath, but it does nothing to calm me. “And Grandpa wanted me to be happy. He’d be proud of the man I’ve become.”
An evil chuckle breaks through the line. “Sure, he is. Nothing like building a Fortune 500 company from the ground up to watch your only grandchild snub his nose at it and decide to dress up and run around some hick town putting out brush fires.”
While it has lasted longer than usual, my patience snaps at his last remark. I almost scream an obscenity until I turn, noticing my mother watching me through the glass door. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I realize my volume has probably gotten away from me. There’s no doubt she’s well aware of who’s on the line.
Dropping my tone, I push on, “Tell the board to move on. I’ll never change my mind on this. I have more than enough to live on without need for any of your dirty money.”
“Dirty?” I can hear his sneer through the receiver. “In what way is my hard-earned money dirty?”
“Well, let’s be clear. The bulk of your financial holdings were a gift from your father. There was no hard work to it,” I practically spit. “The rest you may haveworkedfor—” I nearly choke on the word worked. In my experience, he only worked hard at sating his appetite for the finer things. Collecting materialistic items to show off his social status and wealth, traveling the world to hobnob with otherrich snobs, and seduce a bevy of women, all while committed to someone else. “But it was at the expense of your family. So, thank you for making it abundantly clear where your priorities lie. I have no interest in associating with a company run by a self-serving asshole.”
I wait momentarily, expecting him to disconnect the call. When that doesn’t happen, I decide to do it for him. “And now that this conversation is over, don’t call again unless you have something to say worth listening to. Like a fucking apology for all you’ve done to my mother’s life. I don’t need one for what you did to mine. You did me a favor showing me your true colors.”
