The service began. My father reached for my mother’s arm, pulling her down beside him, but she kept turning, kept looking at the baby. I steeled my expression and faced forward, pretending to listen as the minister spoke of my aunt like she was a saint I’d never met. There were prayers, promises of peace, and talk of a better place. I felt nothing. Just waiting for it to end so the real fireworks could start. Because if they thought they could erase me, they were wrong. I was still here. And I wasn’t about to let them forget it.
The hymn started, low and mournful. “Amazing Grace.” The melody crawled under my skin, pulling me backward through time, back to this same chapel, this same song, the day we’d buried my mother. My real mother.
A memory returned of me at ten years old, shuffling down the aisle in a too-small suit while strangers whispered condolences. My eyes found the open casket I wasn’t ready to see. There she was, lying still in a satin-lined box, her hands folded neat and proper. I remembered waiting for her chest to rise, for her eyes to open, for her to be her again. But she didn’t move. That was the moment I accepted the truth. My mother was gone for good. She was the only person in this world who had ever truly been on my side, and she’d never reach for me again.
MGM stirred in my arms, breaking the spell. The hymn faded, and a slow line of mourners filed past the casket, whispering their goodbyes. I wouldn’t be one of them because I realized then that coming here had been a mistake. No amount of payback was worth tearing open that old wound.
Clutching Mitchell tighter, I rose, walked the aisle, and slipped out the same door I’d come through.
“Scott, wait!”
My step faltered, but I kept moving.
“Please… let me see him,” said the woman who’d reluctantly raised me.
I stopped and turned. She approached slowly, wary, like I might spook.
“He’s beautiful,” she whispered, running trembling fingers over my son’s curls. “What’s his name?”
“Mitchell,” I said, my voice harder than I meant. “April named him after her grandfather.”
“It’s a strong name,” she said, her eyes marred by tears.
I shifted my weight, already bracing for the blow. “Don’t pretend you suddenly care, Sue.”
She flinched at the name, like she always did. “I’m not pretending. I’ve always cared.”
“Yeah? Then you and I have different definitions of the word.”
“Just stop, Scott. I did the best I could… under the circumstances.”
“You threw me out.”
“No,” she said. “I tried to stop it. I begged him to slow down. To listen. But you and your father couldn’t have a civil conversation.”
“Because he was kicking me out for getting April pregnant. And you let him.”
She flinched.
“So tell me something,” I went on. “Was Mitchell a mistake too—or was it just me?”
Sue’s eyes filled. “No,” she whispered. “Neither of you were mistakes. I’m sorry, Scott. I should’ve fought harder for you. And I didn’t.”
“Nah,” I said. “You don’t get to excuse yourself from this. I was still in high school with nowhere to go. Don’t stand here now like you give a damn. You were never there for me… never.”
“Because you wouldn’t let me,” she said, her lips trembling. “I had to compete with your mother. Your angel. No matter what I did, you never let me love you.”
I stilled, her words bruising me from the inside out.
She reached for my arm, her eyes wet. “Scott, please—”
I jerked back, clutching MGM tighter, his small weight the only thing keeping me steady. Rage burned through me, but underneath it was something worse, an ache I didn’t want to name. Because deep down, in the same hollow where grief for my real mother still lived, I knew she was right. I hadn’t let her love me. And standing here now, in the echo of that loss, it was way too late for either of us to fix it.
11
MICHELLE: DON’T STOP BELIEVIN’
By the time I pulled into Tranquil Tides Cemetery, I was too late. The few cars left in the parking lot were already backing out. As I made the turn to exit, Scott’s truck caught my eye. It was parked beneath a leaning eucalyptus tree on the far side of the lot. He was still here. My pulse skipped as I stopped a good viewing distance away. Lowering myself into my seat, I watched through the windshield, waiting for him to exit the chapel. I had no idea why I was suddenly shy. It wasn’t like I’d come here to carry on with him. This would just be a quick exchange. No need to overthink it.
