26
Alex
Once I’m buckled into my seat in the back of a full plane hurtling across the Atlantic Ocean, I let myself consider the ramifications of what I’ve done.
I’m flying to another country and I haven’t even told the woman I love that I’ve left the continent.
Yes, I love her. I think I finally realized it sometime last night when my whiskey-soaked dreams of her wouldn’t end. Every time I woke up, I would turn to find her, only to feel my heart stutter when I realized she wasn’t there. And it was my fault. Savannah Reese has invaded my heart and soul, awoke a part of me I thought never existed, and brought so much into my life that I didn’t even realize was missing.
I can only hope that by the time I get home, it isn’t too late to convince her I’ve realized my mistakes, and she’ll give me another chance. Scrubbing my hands over my face, I grimly accept that the reality is, I might have fucked up too badly. Not to mention, I have no idea how long I’ll be in England. That is the other thing I’ve had to reconcile. As much as I don’t want to be around my father a second longer than I have to, I know I can’t leave my mother if she needs me.Even if she wasn’t there for me when I needed her.I know that wasn’t by choice, that was out of her misguided sense of duty to the asshole who sired me. Not for the first time in my life, I wonder what the fuck I did to piss him off so much that my very existence seems like an imposition to him.
I signal the flight attendant and ask for another drink. Yes, I’m still fighting a hangover from last night, but the only way I’ll get through seeing my father for the first time in almost a decade is if I’m still drunk enough that his words won’t hurt. Not to mention seeing my mum, especially if she’s sick, will mean finally forgiving her for not coming to me after my accident. She chose him over me, and I need to let that go if I’m truly here to support her.
The plane lands several hours later, and thanks to a nap and some water, I’m just comfortably numb, not so piss drunk I can’t do what needs to be done. Once I’ve gone through customs and collected my suitcase, I head out into the grey drizzle that is so quintessentially London weather. I hail a cab far easier than I would have in New York and give them my parents’ address. It’s about a forty minute drive, and I take that time to check emails and text Brayden to let him know I landed. His response is oddly cryptic.
BRAYDEN: Glad you’re there. Get some sleep and take a shower. Keep me posted on your mom.
Why he’s concerned with my hygiene I don’t know. But before I can think about that anymore, we’re pulling up the driveway of my childhood home. Not much has changed; it’s still an imposing brick building that now seems aged and formal. I pay the driver and grab my bag before walking up to the front door. Unsure of what to do, I ring the doorbell. I suppose I could just walk in, but this hasn’t been my home for a very long time.
A minute later, the door opens and there he is.
“Hello, Father,” I say stiffly, my gaze meeting his directly. I will not let this man know how small he makes me feel sometimes. I am a highly successful adult and I’ll be damned if he makes me believe any different.
“Alex.” He stands back and lets me in without saying anything else. Wordlessly he walks into the kitchen, where my mother is stirring something at the stove. My heart softens seeing her; it’s been so long.
“Hi Mum,” I say quietly.
She turns with a gasp, her eyes shining as she hurries over to me. She grabs my face in her hands, turning it to one side, then the other, before pulling me down for a hug. I forgot how small she is, and she feels frail and vulnerable. I’m careful not to hold her too tightly, even though I desperately want to.
“Hello, my boy. Oh, how I’ve missed you,” she murmurs into my ear, then presses a kiss to my cheek before taking a step back. “Look at you. So strong and handsome. You look tired, dear.”
I shrug, no sense in denying it. “I took the first flight I could. Didn’t sleep much last night.”
Mum huffs in annoyance. “Your father shouldn’t have worried you like that, it’s nothing, really.”
A glance around the kitchen reveals my father to be nowhere in sight. Not surprising.
“What’s going on Mum? Dad wouldn’t say anything, just that you were sick.”
Mum twists her hands in front of her, before turning back to the stove. “Let me make a pot of tea and then we’ll talk. Go on upstairs and wash up.”
Dutifully I trudge up the stairs to my old bedroom. Any sign of me as a child has been erased, and it is now a formal guest room, complete with two single beds. My father’s doing, I’m sure. Heaven forbid any guests of theirs should share a bed, and offend his delicate sensibilities.
Once I’ve washed my face in the small bathroom and changed into a clean shirt, I go back downstairs. Mum is in the lounge with a tray set out that bears two teacups and a plate of biscuits. She’s sitting on the couch, her hands folded in her lap, waiting for me. When I walk in, she stands up quickly.
“How do you take your tea, dear?” She flutters over the tray, nervously. “I suppose I should know that, only it’s been so long.”
I put my hand on her arm, and gesture her back to the couch. “It has been a while, Mum. I’ll fix the tea.”
I prepare two cups, both with milk, the way I know she likes it. I hand her a cup, and when we have both taken a sip, I ask the question I’m dreading the answer to.
“Now, tell me. What’s wrong?”
“Truly, it’s nothing. Your father shouldn’t have called,” she starts, her eyes downcast. My heart is thumping wildly. I don’t believe her for a second.
“I was at the doctor for an annual checkup and they found a small lump in my…” She gestures to her chest.
Oh God, no. “Is it…do you have cancer, Mum?” I force the words out, even as the ball of dread in my stomach grows larger and larger.
