“So,” she said. “Those are my Daddy issues. Now, tell me why you’ve ignored two of your mom’s calls that I’ve noticed.”
My brows raised. “Wow. Note to self about your eagle eyes.”
“I consider it a gift. I can read a cell phone from a mile away.”
“A man’s worst nightmare.”
“Stop deflecting.”
I sighed. “Fine. My mom and I aren’t close either. And that’s that.”
“Why?”
I shoved a forkful of salad in my mouth. “Because she’s a whore, Sunny.”
“Holysmokes,Jagger.” She gaped me at.
“Too much?” I deadpanned back.
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s true.”
“Is it?Really?”
“My mom walked out on me, my brother and my dad when I was fifteen, for another man. Found out later, she’d had two affairs before that. Three dudes. My mom took the oath of marriage with my dad and then banged three dudes while she was married to him.”
“Okay... that’s tough. I’ll give you that. How long since you two have talked?”
“Since the day I came home to my dad surrounded by empty beer cans and a note telling him she was gone.”
“And she’s tried to contact you?”
“Countless times. Not at first, really. But when she found out I enlisted she started reaching out. More so over the last few years, especially.” I ripped a handful of grass from the ground and ran the blades through my fingers. “She even sent me something, a gift I guess, a few weeks ago.”
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s stupid.”
“What did she send you?”
“Oh, this stupid compass. A replica of an old one. When I was a little boy, I was always wandering the woods around our house. A regular Boy Scout. Shocking, huh? Anyway, on my eighth birthday, she gave me a gold compass with my initials on the front. On the back, an etching of our house with an arrow pointing to it. Under that, the words, home is where the heart is.”
“Wow. That’s sweet… and thoughtful.”
I snorted. “It’s funny. I actually got mad at her when she gave it to me because we were so poor, I didn’t want her spending so much money on me.”
“Did you use it?”
“Took it everywhere with me. Worked like a charm.”
“Where is it now?”
“Lost it. My last mission in Iraq. The suicide bomber that screwed up my life.”
“You carried it with you all those years?”
“Guess so. Like I said, it was quality.”
