Nonie goes completely still.
“I don’t understand what that means,” I say. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
She takes a slow breath, leaning back against the couch. Picking up her tea, she finishes the entire cup. I watch her, completely confused.
“I think,” she says quietly, “I need something stronger than tea before we continue this conversation.”
Before I can respond, she stands and heads inside. A second later, my phone rings, causing my heart to leap from my chest. I grab it, immediately wondering if it’s him, but when I look down, my stomach relaxes.
Miles.
Miles: Can we talk?
I stare at the message. He really doesn’t understand the concept of space.
I quickly type a response.
Me: I’m a little busy right now. Can we do this later?
When I look up, Nonie is walking back outside with a glass of amber liquid in her hand. I’m kind of upset she didn’t get me a glass. Can’t really blame her, me being underage and all.
“Alright baby,” she says, settling back onto the couch. “Where were we?”
“The part where my stalker called me a whore like my mother.”
Her expression shifts before she takes a sip of her drink. My phone buzzes again and I glance up at Nonie. She waves me off, telling me to get it, so I open the message.
Miles: Busy? What are you doing? Can you come to my place?
Me: I’m at my aunt’s house. I’ll try to swing by later.
I lock my phone and urge Nonie to continue.
“Your mother…” she pauses. “I love your mother more than anything in this world, but she wasn’t perfect. She made mistakes just like anyone else.”
I frown. “What kind of mistakes?”
Nonie sighs. “Your mother loved your father. She did. But before him, there was someone else.”
My stomach twists.
“Her high school sweetheart.” She looks down at the glass in her hands. “They were together all through high school. Ihonestly thought they were going to get married someday. But they broke up after graduation when he decided to join the military. Not long after that, she met your father.”
She takes another sip.
“Our parents hated him, of course. He was seven years older than her. But your mother was stubborn. When she loved someone, she loved them completely.”
“What happened?”
“Your mother ran into him years later. I think you were about six.” Her voice softens. “She called me afterward and told me it felt like no time had passed. Like all the old feelings were still there.”
My heart sinks.
“I told her not to see him again.” She shakes her head. “But your mother was just as hardheaded as I am.”
I laugh quietly. At least I know where I got that from.
“She started seeing him regularly,” she continues, “and eventually your dad found out.” Her expression darkens. “That’s when it all started. The drinking, the abuse, both verbal and physical.”
