I look over to my mother. “People have been saying things for years about you,” I say, biting back emotions as I look at my mom.
“You can thank your grandmother for that. Garden club and having an in with the church’s prayer tree has its benefits, I guess,” she says. “Sometimes rumors can mask the things we don’t want people talking about, or noticing.”
I look between the both of them, unsure how to organize any of this. All of those horrible things were there to take the focus away from what had been actually happening. I blow out a rush of air. Being responsible for one man’s death is ridiculous enough, but this, what they’re saying...“I have more questions,” I tell them.
Birdie crosses her arms. “Thought you might. Just know we can’t answer all of them.”
“Then why tell me at all?” I push out a frustrated and almost angry huff at that response. “Why sit me down like some sort of intervention?—”
“Because you walked into a storyline that you have no business being a part of,” my mom shouts. Her brow pinches and lips turn down like she’s mad, but her eyes shimmer with tears threatening to escape. “If I could erase it. If I could make sure you didn’t need to know this about me and your grandmother, I would,” she says, holding her fist to the center of her chest. “But you’re a big girl, Wynona.” She sniffs a laugh that isn’t laced with any lick of humor. “I have a feeling you know exactly why we keep things from the people we love. Call it selfish, call it lying, but we’ve done it all these years to protect the people most important.” A tear finally escapes, and she bats it away, lifting her chin. “And now the best I can hope for is that this is something you can live with.”
Do I really have a choice?
“Is it just men?” I glance at Birdie, and then back to my mother.
They both tilt their heads to the side. “As it turns out,” Birdie says.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and drop my head. Getting oxygen into my lungs feels like it’s taking more effort than usual. I’ve been pretty exceptional at keeping my panicked moments away from them. Closing my eyes tightly, I press my tongue against the roof of my mouth. I run through all the tarot readings Birdie has done over the years. There have been thousands.How many of those resulted in this same way?
“What about my dad?” If there’s a story behind anyone disappearing, there has to be one about him.
She laughs and mumbles, “I wish.” But it’s Birdie who interjects and changes the topic. “You have questions about Julian, too, I’d imagine.”
I have plenty. They expand far beyond what my mind’s able to process tonight.
A plume of smoke lingers around her words when she asks, “Would you rather ask him for those answers?”
“I’d rather not have any of this be an actual topic I need to consider,” I bite back.
Birdie looks down at her palm with a tight-lipped smile.
“Yes,” I say softly, knowing that what they’ve just shared is more than any one of us wanted. “I have questions for him. But can you tell me, how did you find him?”
“Family business,” my mother chimes in. Looking down at her phone, she types away and adds, “Three, maybe four generations. Doesn’t matter, because if he was doing his job like he’s supposed to, then Julian should have already left. Him still being here attracts unwanted attention, as I’m sure you’ve noticed tonight. Don’t think Jameson and Fury aren’t keeping tabs on the comings and goings of people right now.”
“Who are you texting?” I ask in an annoyed tone.
“None of your business,” she says on an exhale. She looks up, and over to Birdie first, and then to me. “The Jeweler would only stay if something was keeping him here. Or someone.”
“Are you planning to share about where you met him?” Birdie asks.
Mom points at me with a smirk, before I even try to answer. She hops down from the counter. “Looks like you’re a Crowne deep down, after all, Wynona. Listenin’ to tales about killin’ bad guys and pining after morally gray men.” She raises her eyebrows and lets out a raspy laugh. “You looked good behind that bar tonight too.”
I bite down, grinding my back molars. She knows how to piss me off quicker than anyone else.
Moving toward the kitchen again, she says, “It would be smarter now if he stays. Maybe entertain the idea of fucking around with him for a little bit longer. He has a thing for you. Though I don’t understand how a person learns how to erase a crime scene...”
I squint at her because she can’t be serious with that line of thinking after telling me she and Birdie are out here killing people.
“His dad was always in and out. Never had to worry about police asking him any questions,” she says, glancing at Birdie, who looks uncomfortable for the briefest moment. “I feel like I have to say it, but this isnotsomething to talk about. You’re not going to your therapist with a new level of detail contributing to all the ways your mother fucked you up.”
I want to throw this glass at her right now.
“Your sisters do not know any of this either. This is after-midnight-margarita chatter only, Wynona.”
I raise my eyebrow, and with a sarcastic laugh, say, “You actually feel like you need to say that to me?”
“Yes. Yes, I do,” she says back with a snark.
