I can hardly believe it. Nor can Danny.
We both flinch and tighten our hold around each other as my mother unleashes. “Other people watching out for him? That’s the baseline that you wanted for your kid?”
“Look how great he’s doing. He’s a wonderful young man.” Andie’s reaction is too calm. And so sickening and heartbreaking.
“Yeah,” my mother spits out. “Despite you. Despite how you abandoned him.”
Danny moves us around the corner, ignoring my nonverbal protests, but he wants to see this conversation.
“I have made countless mistakes with my kids,” my mom says. “But at least I am working on being a better mother. At least I’m trying to repair the damage I’ve caused. Because I want connection. I want relationships. I want all of us to heal from the hurt. You haven’t tried at all, have you? Why don’t you care?” She’s screaming now and stepping toward Andie.
Paul emerges from inside the bar and reaches out to pull her back. “Cindy, that’s enough. She’s not worth it.”
I silently applaud her as she pushes him aside, but still, he manages to grab her around the waist and keeps her from getting too close.
“No, it’s not enough, Paul, and you know it.” She refocuses on Andie, ignited with rage, and asks again, “Why the fuck don’t you care? About your perfect, beautiful, creative, caring, giving son? Why?” she demands. “What is wrong with you?”
Andie tosses up her hands. “The truth? That pregnancy was just something that happened, but it wasn’t something I’d ever hoped for. I never really wanted to be a mother.”
My mother would throw daggers if she could. “Congratulations, Andie. You never were.” She stands tall as Paul lets her go, and she walks with force until she’s inches away from Andie. She speaks a truth that I realize no one else will voice. “He’s not your son. He never has been. He’s Wake’s son.Ourson. But never yours.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Andie’s response lacks the kind of emotion anyone would hope to see.
Danny almost collapses in my hold. Hearing him nearly choke on words that he will never recover from, seeing his disbelief and the tears in his eyes—it’s maybe almost as bad as the moment that I lost my father.
Now, Paul moves in like a bear, and Andie backs up.
“Leave,” he orders. “Get thehellout of here. And don’t ever come back.”
“Paul—” she starts.
“I am not screwing around. Leave for good this time. You’re not welcome in Wake anymore. We will never let you put our kid through this again.” His tone sends chills through me.
When she steps away, the turn she takes puts her right in front of us.
“Danny,” she starts. “I didn’t mean for you to hear—”
“What? The truth?” he asks, his words shaky and broken.
Paul is between us within seconds. “You don’t get to talk to him. Not ever again. I swear to God, Andie, walk the fuck away. Now.”
So, she does. She leaves, but the damage that she delivered is here to stay.
No one says a word for a while until, finally, Danny raises his head and faces Paul and my mother. “Thank you. Both of you.” Then, he barely squeezes my hand. “I have to go.”
Before I can stop him, Danny has charged toward his truck and is off, and I’m left, helpless on the sidelines as my shattered boy tries to flee from the undeserved and unprocessed neglect.
But just as I’m about to drown into the reality that there’s nothing I can do, Matteo’s car races up, nearly slamming against the curb. “Get in. We go to our Danny.”
Without question, I hop into the front seat and buckle myself in. “You heard?” I ask.
“We all heard,” Mary Ann says from the backseat, visibly shaking. “She is worse than I thought. Crazier and more neglectful. I didn’t realize.”
Sitting beside her, Slowski is as distraught and shaken as the rest of us. “Cruel,” he states pointedly. “She’s cruel. And sick.”
“He didn’t want anyone to know.Hedidn’t want to know,” I say. “And now that we’ve all seen how awful she is, I don’t blame him for running.” I roll down the window because I need air so desperately. “But should we give him space right now?”
I really have no idea, but Mary Ann does.
