I shake my head, telling him no. It’s not exactly what he wants to hear. I can tell by the look on his face, how he averts his gaze back to his food and takes a bite.
Aunt Bess chimes in. “You’ll figure it out, and we’re here if you need help. Always. Which reminds me,” she says as she sits taller. “Second Chance’s annual fundraiser is coming up. Seeing as we know how much it means to me, I’d like to go as a family.”
As a family.
The way she says it hits me in the back of the knees. If I weren’t sitting, I’d go down. I should be used to her trying to include me. I’m not her son, but she always treats me like one. It only makes me feel shittier that I’ve been lying to her about my mom’s wellbeing and affairs. Still, I’d do anything to make her happy, especially since it’s a cause that hits so close to home for the both of us. “I’ll be there.”
“Good. You’re both welcome to bring a plus one. The more who attend, the more possibility we’ll be able to give people a second chance at normalcy.”
Aka one free of addiction.
“Tell me a time and a place, and I’ll make sure nothing interferes,” Sebastian promises.
We finish our meal, small talk bouncing between the four of us along with a joke from Sebastian occasionally. Once we finish, I take the dishes to the kitchen and rinse them off before tucking them inside the dishwasher.
After a couple of moments, Aunt Bess trails in with a content smile on her face.
“They’re at it again,” she tells me, and I know what she means without her having to elaborate. Since the beginning of time, Uncle Thad and Sebastian have always had a thing with chess. Year after year, they try to outsmart one another. Somehow, they always end up circling back to the beginning of wanting that win again.
“How long do you think they’ll sit there tonight?” I ask, putting the last of the dirty silverware into the dishwasher.
“Who knows?”
“How long was it last time?”
“Too long if you ask me. They love it, though.” I hear her contentment, and it makes me happy that we came over tonight, even if I was slightly nervous about it. I’ve never wanted to lie to Aunt Bess and Sebastian. Or Uncle Thad. They’ve always treated me well and with respect. They’re good people and don’t deserve dealing with Mom’s shit anymore. Aunt Bess put up with it enough and continues to make sure her bills are paid through a separate bank account from their parents’ life insurance money. I don’t blame her for pulling away. Hell, I can’t remember the last time Uncle Thad even saw Mom, but I’m not upset over it.
They should stay far away.
Because if you’re near Janie Moore, it’s only a matter of time before your life is fucked, too. I’m a prime example of that.
So yeah, I’ll keep up the lies for the sake of protecting their hearts and sanity because that’s how it should be. Family should protect their own. Something Mom has never fully understood. If she did, would I really be the one having to deal with Finn?
The question of the century.
Aunt Bess comes up next to me and wraps her arm around me in a side hug. “Thank you for coming, Colson. I know life hasn’t been easy, but if there’s one place that takes that all away, I hope it’s here.”
“I’d never say no to your cooking, Aunt Bess.”
“That’s kind of you to say.”
Silence wraps around us for a beat, and tension follows in its footsteps. Before she says a word, I know it’s going to be heavy. “Have you seen your mom?”
Aunt Bess knows she stole from me. I couldn’t exactly keep that hidden when Sebastian called her up and told her I was moving in with him.
I put the dirty plate in the dishwasher. “Not too long ago.”
Her voice tight, she asks, “How is she?”
I want to admit she’s not well, that she’s relapsed. Yet again. And this time it seems to be the worst. Like her need for drugs has never been higher. If I did tell her, she’d understand. It was Aunt Bess who was at Mom’s side the first time she checked into rehab at an inpatient program an hour away. After her thirty days were up, Aunt Bess was the one who brought her home and checked in daily.
Mom lasted four months—a hundred and twenty-two days—before she was back on the streets, before I walked in on her in the bathroom with a powdery substance that I knew she shouldn’t have had. I remember the look in her eye. The derangement. She could have been in the wild, a beast staringher in the eye and warning her to get moving before it devoured her, and she would have ignored it.
“You know Mom,” I say. “Sometimes she’s good. Other times she’s not.”
“Did you speak to her about the money?”
The money she stole straight out of my nightstand.
