“Can we not talk about pain in our asses at the moment? We’re trying to have a serious conversation.” I give him a lighthearted smirk and continue teasing. “Geez, always wanting my dick in your ass.” He laughs at my feigned annoyance. “Come on Bean, let’s go home.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Familiar Faces and Unintentional Truths
Ender
I’ve been debating since last week whether I should go find my mother. A part of me knows she needs help, that this wasn’t her fault to begin with, and I can’t seem to shake the feeling that there’s so much left unsaid. It sounded dumb whenI said it aloud to Gabe this morning, but I don’t think I can walk away without saying my piece. Telling her what their words—and his fists—truly did to me.
I came to Camp North End early this morning to look for her, but it’s now noon and still no sign of where she could be. I’ve walked the entire area for hours, and the chances of her still hanging around here are slim, but I had to try. While I’m sitting here eating the beef bulgogi bowls Gabe was raving about all week before we came here, I see a familiar face approaching me.
“Can I sit with you?” Layla is polite and elegant as always.
“What are you doing here, Mrs. Williams?”
“Ender, what did I tell you about that?” Her smile is as beautiful as ever, and we both laugh at her playful scolding.
“Okay…Layla, what are you doing here?”
“Gabe told me you were here. I hope it’s okay I came to see you.” Her timid gaze is unfamiliar as her confidence only briefly wavers. “I’m assuming you haven’t found her yet?”
“No such luck.” I think twice about it and say, “Is that weird? That I wanted to see her? After everything she’s said and done.”
“It’s not.” Layla’s pensive for a moment, until she begins again. “It’s been thirty-five years, and I still look for my mother—except now, I’m only looking in the obituaries.”
I look up from my food, not fully understanding.
“Ender, we have a lot in common—more than you’d imagine.” She pauses, and I wait patiently, knowing from the distress written on her face that this must be hard on her. “Gabe told me a little about your past. Please don’t be upset with him—he was just worried about you coming here today.”
“I know. He begged me to let him come with me. I’m surprised he’s not hanging around the corner watching me.”
“Two blocks down on the left, waiting for my call.” She smiles at how ridiculously protective her son is of me.
“Of course he is.”
“My mother was a drug addict too.” She nods when my forehead creases. “Nine different foster homes.” She raises her hand. “My parents adopted me at sixteen.”
“Gabe didn’t tell me.”
“He doesn’t know all the details. I’ve told him all he needs to know.” We share a knowing look. “If ever the time comes that it’s necessary, he will be told everything about his grandmother.”
“And his grandfather?”
“Never met the man.” A wry expression quickly appears and is gone just as fast. “My mother worked hard to try to support us, but it wasn’t always legal work, if you know what I mean.” I nodded, connecting the dots. “She fell into the lifestyle before I was even born—eventually leading to a heroin addiction—and she couldn’t stop either. They took me from her just after my eleventh birthday, and I haven’t seen her since.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, Layla, but if you haven’t told Gabe much about his grandmother, why are you sharing it with me?”
“We’re akin, Ender.” The gentle way her hands clasp mine reminds me of Mrs. A. “Regardless of whether our parents meant what they said or did, it wasn’t our fault. And no matter what they tried to make us believe...” Her voice breaks, and when she continues, a tear rolling down her cheek, I see just how lucky Gabe and Noah are to have her. “We deserve to be loved—unconditionally.” She wipes the remnant of emotions from my face and says, “It’s okay to tell him how you feel.”
“Geez, you too? Am I that obvious?” She nods as we chuckle.
Through the dull pain in my chest, I confess my biggest fear. “What if he leaves?”
“What if he doesn’t?” She raises her brows as she enunciates each word. “Gabe is a good man—just like his father. And I see the way he looks at you.” She hits me with the ‘Are you kidding me?’ face and is quiet for a moment. “Ender, every time my soneven mentions you, he looks like he’d jump in front of a moving train, no questions asked, just to keep you safe.”
I contemplate what she said, then compare it to what Kaden told me last week, and I know what I have to do.
“Thanks, Mrs. Wi—Layla. I appreciate you being here for me.”
