At least we’d be together.
In the meantime, I’ve been using all those hours I’d rather be with her attempting to make something better of the mess I’ve left myself in.
I spent most of yesterday evening with ma.
For hours, we talked, and though I don’t think she was happy with my decision, I’m at peace with it.
With my winnings from the bounty and the help of a banker friend much more financially savvy than I, I set up an account for ma.
Payments for her bills will automatically withdraw each month, and she’ll get a small stipend to help her pay for other necessities. The account will continue to earn and sustain itself over time, according to the way my friend explained how he set it up. The bank he works for funds all manner of business ventures, with opportunities to invest small amounts over a wide portfolio to ensure the risk of loss is managed. I intend to monitor the accounts to make sure they stay profitable, and he assured me he’ll see to their upkeep.
It solves my primary concern for ma.
She’ll have a place to live, a sturdy roof over her head for as long as she needs it, and plenty of food in her cupboards. Anything else she wants to spend, she’ll have to figure out herself.
Despite that, she spent a good portion of our conversation continuing to harp on me about how I control her, how I don’t trust her, how I can’t just let her live.
However, when I offered to transfer the account back into my name and let her live completely how she wants on her own coin, her tune changed.
I don’t want to control her.
I don’t want to see her destitute.
I just want my life back.
And this is as good a solution as I could manage.
There’s still a pit in my stomach whenever I think about it, still an ache in my heart and regret in my soul that things couldn’t have turned out differently, but it’s the best I know how to do given the circumstances we both were dealt.
Perhaps in time things will change.
Perhaps in time they won’t.
Today, I’ve got other things to worry about.
Just because I’ve taken care of ma doesn’t mean my debt with Myron is repaid.
I’ve already resolved there’s nothing I won’t do, no lengths I won’t go to, to pay the debt off in full. Without the responsibility of my mother’s bills hanging over my head, it should only take me half as long to pay off my contract. And even less time if I’m willing to take the jobs no one else wants, willing to work twice as hard and twice as long, put myself through hell if it means being free sooner.
And now, back on my boss’s doorstep, I’m ready to finally face whatever ire he’s stored up over my disappearing act these past few weeks and take on whatever job he’ll see fit to punish me with.
I’m sure it will be from his bottom-of-the-barrel cases. As I raise my hand to knock on his door, I can only pray it’s something that will give me at least a bit of leeway to make a detour to see my witch before I’m knee-deep in it.
“Come in,” Myron’s gruff voice answers from the other side of the door.
With one last deep breath, I step inside.
Myron looks as affronted as I’ve ever seen him. His expression is tight, pinched, and he barely spares me half a glance before turning back to whatever business he’d been attending to before I arrived.
“Did you come here to gloat?”
“Gloat about what?”
He sneers at me. “The end of your contract. You didn’t even have the courtesy of coming to pay it off yourself, and now you’re here to rub it in my face? I expected better of you, Callum.”
My ears pound with my own heartbeat. Beneath my feet, the world tilts.
Myron must take my stunned silence for insolence, because he stands from his desk and points toward the door.
