“I told them,” I confessed, suddenly sheepish. “They saw me packing before I read to them. I didn’t want to…you know, lie.”
He didn’t respond.
“I was going to wait and talk to them with you, tomorrow, but they asked and I didn’t want to lie to them,” I repeated. I did that when I was nervous. Apparently, I was nervous. It wasn’t an emotion I was too familiar with.
“No, that’s good. That’s the right thing.” He stepped into the room and put his hands in his pockets. “How did they take it?”
I swallowed over the lump in my throat at the memory of the girls’ bottom lips trembling and watching the tears slide down their sweet little cheeks. “They were upset, but I told them it’s because you are so much better now.” I waved my hand towards him, indicating him being upstairs as exhibit A.
He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. “So, this is really it.”
“Thank you for letting me stay,” I said sincerely. The past weeks had meant more to me than I could even put into words, so I didn’t want to try.
He smiled, soft and a little sad. “Thank you for helping me. It’s been really good having you here. It was like old times.”
He looked away, picked at a chipped spot on the doorframe, and then, just when I thought he’d leave, he doubled back.
“You know, the other day, Andi was asking me about my mom,” he said, voice tentative. “I realized I hadn’t really talked about her with anyone for a long time. Not really since you.” He glanced at me, as if weighing whether to go on. “She wanted to know what my mom was like. All I could remember was…music. She liked to put music on. Billy Joel—” He motioned to me, referencing our first conversation. “—and sing and dance around the kitchen. And she loved to plant flowers, make Halloween costumes.” He smiled at the memory, but there was a distance in his eyes. “That’s pretty much it, that’s all I remember.”
Shit.His mom. The secret crouched in the corner of my mind, ugly, anxious, heavy, a stray that had been following me everywhere. I had been looking for the right way to tell him what I’d found out, as if there were ever going to be a right way, as if there was a version of this conversation where I didn’t break something elemental between us. I’d sat on the knowledge for a week, convincing myself I was protecting him, when I think the truth was, I was protecting myself from his reaction to me going behind his back.
But this was the perfect opening. If not now, when?
I wiped my palms on my jeans and gestured at the chair by the window. “Can you come in? There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
He stepped inside but didn’t sit, just stood in front of the chair. “About what?”
Anxiety bubbled up inside of me. His mom had always been a raw nerve for him. It was hismostsensitive subject, which was why I felt like I had to do what I did. He needed to have closure if he ever had a shot at having peace in his life. He deserved closure. Also, I had been concerned about the money.
“About your mom.”
His reaction was so subtle, if you didn’t know him, you’d probably wonder if he’d heard you. But I knew him. I saw the clench of his jaw.
I took a breath that hurt so badly because my chest was so tight it felt like it threatened to shatter my ribs.
“Just say it, Billie. Whateveritis.” His voice was low, raw, threatening. I knew it wasn’t towards me, it was the subject matter.
“I know you always said you didn’t care what happened to your mom. That she made her choice, left and never came back. But when you made that comment about not getting answers from the ring, I thought you deserved answers.”
His face didn’t move, but something behind his eyes flickered. There was definite feeling there, I just couldn’t tell what it was. It was the emotional equivalent of a coin landing edgewise instead of heads or tails.
“So, I hired a private investigator to look into it.” The words fell like dishes off a shelf.
“What?!” His voice was harsh and explosive, like he’d bit down on a filling.
“I hired a P.I.,” I repeated, the words sounding almost ridiculous to my own ears now, but I’d done it, and the past couldn’t be un-bought. “Just to see what they could find out.”
I watched as his chest started to rise and fall in short, shallow pants. He was still standing, but I worried and wished he would sit down.
I licked my lips, nervous, and tried to keep my voice steady. “Do you want to know…?”
He stared at me, eyes narrowed, jaw set, and he crossed his arms in a defensive or protective stance, I couldn’t quite tell. “That’s why you brought it up, right? You know something. Just say it, Billie.”
I folded my hands together, squeezing them so hard my rings dug into my fingers. “Your mom passed away, Adam. When you were twelve.”
His arms fell to his sides. He stared at me like I’d just told him everything he knew about his world was a lie, which I sort of had. I watched him rewind his life and replay it through the truth I’d just revealed.
“Twelve?” he repeated and then sat down with a force that rattled the chair against the floor.
