She looks good. Her long hair is braided in a loose braid, the colour more grey than blonde now. Dressed in jeans and a sage green half zip pull over sweater, she has managed to look stylish and casual at the same time.
“Hello to you as well,” she looks me up and down before saying, “you look rough.”
Forget I said that, she looks awful.
Dumbfounded, I watch her slip past me and walk right into my living room without an invitation.
“Yes, please come right in,” I mutter sarcastically as I shut the door and follow behind.
Ignoring me, she spins in a slow circle looking around the space. “Wow, you have done a lot of work. It looks really nice in here.”
Morgan raises his head from the pillow he’s lying on to look at our guest before flopping back down uninterested.
Rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly I say, “Thank you. I’ve enjoyed fixing it up.” Walking towards the kitchen, I ask, “Can I get you anything?” I could drink coffee. Coffee seems like a great idea.
“No thank you,” she replies, sitting down at the kitchen table. Reaching out, she runs her fingers along one of the tiny pumpkins Hannah used in the centerpiece. “This is pretty.” She looks up at me and smiles.
“Thank you. Hannah decorated for the holiday.” Leaning my back against the counter while I wait for the coffee to brew, I ask, “Mom, why are you here?”
“I got a call last night to let me know Jackson was in Emerley. I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to get him bailed out,” she says, softly biting the inside of her cheek.
“I see.” Turning my back to her, I fix my coffee and take a moment. I know why she’s here. I’m just frustrated that she runs every time he needs something.
Sighing, I turn and walk to the table and silently take a seat across from her.
“I told you he might show up here,” she murmurs, twisting her wedding band. In the back of my mind, I can hear Hannah’s voice reminding me that I should try to mend my relationship with my mother.
“I know, and I should have taken that warning seriously.” I nod, taking a drink of my hot coffee.
“He looks terrible, Logan. His face is black and blue. Why did you have to get into a fight with him?” She purses her lips and shakes her head scolding me like I’m a ten-year-old beating up my baby brother.
“Oh, I know he does,” I roll my eyes, holding up my bandaged hand, “but don’t worry, he got some good shots in himself. And as a matter of fact, I didn’t start anything.”
“Why couldn’t you just listen to him and help him out? You had to fight with him.” Is she for real right now?
“I didn’t start the fight, Mom. In fact, I asked him what he wanted, and he purposely provoked me.”
Just remembering how disrespectful he was to Hannah makes my blood pressure rise.
“He needs a place to stay. You have this big house, you could have offered to put him up until he gets back on his feet. Now he’s in trouble again,” she complains with tears in her eyes.
“I don’t owe him anything including a place to stay. He’s not in trouble because of me, he fucked up before he even arrived in Emerley. He’s the one who punched Mason in the face. You can’t put any of this on me.”
“But if you just...” she pleads with a quivering chin.
I interrupt her before she can continue. “Just what, Mom? What more do you want from me? I gave up everything important to me so you could get him help when he was a teenager. How did that go for him? You made excuses and covered up for him instead of getting him any real help.”
“He was just so angry. He acted out because he was angry at me. If only I had done more.”
“Done more what? Given him more discipline, paid more attention, got him more help – yes, you should have done more.”
“You know he’s going to have to go back to prison now?” she says softly, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Yes, Mom. He fucked around and now he’s going to find out.”
“You don’t even care?” she accuses me with disbelief in her voice.
“Right now? No. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear, but no.”
