21. Cornerstone
21
Cornerstone
Since Ben was the best boyfriend ever, he picked me up from the lawyer’s office on his way home from school. He drove us back to my house, where he joined me on the daily walk my doctor prescribed. I didn’t always do it, but since my hip felt stiff from the knock it had taken during my desperate escape, I wanted to stretch my legs.
We didn’t make it far when I started puffing from exertion, and Ben steered me toward the park near my house. Taking refuge in the same tower where we’d kissed for the first time, we gazed out over the nearly deserted park, our elbows propped on the windowsill.
A little girl in a thick coat and pink hat was being pushed on a swing by her mother, but since it was only the first week of April, it wasn’t quite warm enough to attract more visitors.
“Are you mad that she didn’t prove you right?” he asked after I’d told him about what my mother had said in the lawyer’s office. “Wouldn’t you be just as angry if she had?”
I shrugged. “Probably. I know it’s stupid, but if she was here to get something out of Dad’s death, that would at least make sense!”
“But her being here because she cares about you doesn’t?”
Picking at the splintering wood of the window, I ground my teeth. “She left for six years. If she cared about us, wouldn’t she have at least checked in? If she cared, wouldn’t she have come back?”
“I don’t know,” Ben said. “But neither will you if you don’t ask her.”
“I don’t care,” I lied.
He didn’t call me on it. “Then I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
With a sigh, Ben leaned into me, our shoulders pressing, and I slipped my hand into his, twining our fingers. He kissed my head above the healing gash, and I smiled.
“Will asked me to move to California,” I said, and Ben stiffened.
“What?”
“I’m not going to,” I rushed out, and the terror on his face melted away.
“Oh, thank God. I was about to freak out.” He laughed roughly as he released my hand and wrapped an arm around me.
“We talked today about him and Cora heading back to California, and he said they wanted me to go back with them. He doesn’t want to leave me alone.”
“That makes sense. Even I don’t like the idea of you living in that house alone.”
I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, I’m not moving to California, not when I graduate in two months. That’s stupid.”
“Selfishly, I’m relieved. I don’t want you to leave.” His hand tightened on my waist, and I leaned in, pecking his chilled cheek.
“I don’t want to leave either. Will’s gonna call a security firm and get an alarm installed at the house, though. Just in case, you know?”
“You know you can stay with me,” he said, and I nodded.
“I know, but I don’t think I’m ready to leave. It’s my house, you know? It’s Dad’s house.”
Another kiss to the side of my head, this one on my temple. “Okay.”
“We’ll probably put it on the market soon, though. It could take a few months to sell, and I’d rather have it taken care of before I head to New York.” I watched the young mom chase the giggling little girl around the swing set. “If it sells fast, then I might have to crash in your bed.”
Ben chuckled. “You can crash in my bed anytime.”
“Is that a promise, Adams?” I purred, and he nuzzled my nose with his.
“Yes.”
He lifted his hand, pinkie ready, and I laughed as I hooked my pinkie around his. We sealed the pinkie promise with a kiss, and I grinned against his mouth. He tasted like spearmint, and it made me groan.
“Wanna go back to my place and sixty-nine?” I suggested with a salacious eyebrow waggle, and Ben barked a laugh.
“Your brother really will murder me if he catches us doing that.”
I blew a raspberry. “Whatever. He and Cora are so loud when they fuck, so he has no room to judge.”
Turning back to the park, my laughter died in my throat as I met a pair of gray eyes. My mother stood on the sidewalk, hands tucked in the pockets of her coat. The breeze blew graying flyaways around her face, and my heart lurched unpleasantly in my chest.
Ben noticed her a second after I did, and he took my hand, squeezing hard in support. “You don’t have to talk to her.”
“You think I should,” I replied, never taking my eyes off her.
“It might help,” he offered tentatively. “If nothing else, you might get some answers.”
Grace and I stared at each other for another minute before I straightened and released Ben’s hand. Like she understood the unspoken decision, she stepped onto the wood chips, every step crunching loudly.
“Do you want me to stay?” Ben asked, and I shook my head.
“I’ll be okay. See you tomorrow?”
It was more of a plea than a question, and he angled his head, brushing a sweet, teasing kiss to my mouth. “Of course. Call if you need anything.”
“Okay. Love you,” I whispered, and his countenance brightened.
“I love you too.” He kissed me again, firmer this time, and I clung to his coat, wishing I could stop time and remain in this moment forever.
But time marched on, and when I heard my mother’s footfalls on the wooden bridge, I broke the kiss.
“You can do this,” he said, brushing our noses together. “You’re the strongest person I know.”
“If you say so.”
“I do,” he said smugly, and I shoved him away with a scoff.
“Cocky.”
He winked and backed toward the doorway. “Confident.”
My mother stepped into the doorway as Ben turned around, nearly running right into her. “Shit, sorry.”
He stumbled to the side to let her pass, and she stepped into the tower. “You’re Ben,” she said.
With a nod, he extended a hand automatically. “Yes. Nice to meet you, Mrs—uh…”
At his floundering, she cracked a small smile. “Ms. Leery. But you can call me Grace. Silas does.”
They shook hands, and Ben glanced my way guiltily, like he felt bad for being so polite to her. I shrugged, and his dimple peeked out to say hello.
“It’s nice to officially meet you,” Grace said as she shook Ben’s offered hand. “I hear you’ve done a lot for Silas.”
Ben’s neck splotched with red as he released her hand and ducked his head. “He’s done a lot for me,” he mumbled shyly.
She smiled then. “Well, that’s a sign of a good match then, isn’t it?”
My derisive snort ruined the moment, and Ben looked guilty again.
“I was just heading home. It was nice to meet you.” To me, he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Si.”
“See ya,” I said, and after I gave him a reassuring nod, he left the tower.
Facing the park, I watched him leave. He cast questioning glances over his shoulder as he disappeared down the sidewalk, and I lifted my hand in a wave.
It took Grace a long time to cross the small tower. She’d take a shuffling step, then hesitate. She even backtracked once or twice, but she finally gathered enough resolve to close the distance between us.
When the warmth of her body filled the space Ben had previously occupied, I tried not to stiffen. I didn’t want her knowing the effect she had on me. I didn’t want her to have that much power.
“You left,” she said. It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t respond. She cleared her throat, trembling hands coming to rest on the windowsill next to my elbow. “You were upset.”
Again, it wasn’t a question. I remained silent.
A quasi-annoyed breath whistled through her nose, but her voice was even when she said, “I know you’re angry with me, and I know I deserve it. And I know being here now doesn’t magically fix anything. There’s nothing I can say that justifies what I’ve done or how deeply I’ve hurt you. I know I have no right to have access to you or your life, but—”
“You seem to know a lot of things,” I said, and her fingernails scraped against the wooden sill.
“Silas—”
“I’m going to ask you a question, and if I catch even a hint of bullshit, I’m walking out that door,” I said, and her throat clicked.
“Okay.”
I still hadn’t looked at her, and I almost couldn’t bring myself to, even now. But I forced my head to turn, eyes clashing with hers. They were wide and a little wet, and I was transported back six years.
I was twelve and we were in this same tower. She was bigger than me then, and I held her hand in both of mine. Because she was my mommy, and I loved her so.
I said, “I don’t think I want to kiss girls.”
I said, “I think I want to kiss boys.”
I said, “Mommy, is that bad?”
And she smiled down at me and said, “No, Pumpkin. Nothing about you is bad.”
But I wasn’t twelve years old anymore, and she wasn’t the same woman I’d loved back then.
So I opened my mouth to ask her why she’d left us—why she’d left me —but instead, I said, “Why wasn’t I enough to make you stay?”
“Oh, Silas,” she said, expression stricken.
She reached for me, but I jerked away, ignoring the twinge in my hip. Her hands hovered between us as tears welled in her stormy eyes.
“It wasn’t—it was never your fault. It wasn’t you or Will. It wasn’t even your dad, not fully. It was me, okay?” She clutched at the front of her coat. “It was a series of selfish choices, and I was lost for a while.
“It doesn’t justify anything. I was wrong, okay? And I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you, for abandoning you.” A trembling hand lifted to her mouth as she fought a sob. “But it was never you.”
My throat was thick with tears, but I refused to shed them. “Why?” I demanded, not sure what I was even asking anymore.
She was crying openly now, and I hated her for it. I didn’t want her remorse. I didn’t want her regret. I wanted to hate her, and I couldn’t when she looked at me like that.
Her mouth moved wordlessly, and I lost my patience. “Why?” I practically shouted at her, and she startled at the sudden volume.
“I felt like I was drowning,” she managed to say. “I felt trapped, and I wanted to run away. So I did.”
“That’s not good enough,” I choked out, and she nodded.
“I know.”
“You can’t just show up and expect us to welcome you back. You can’t waltz in like you have a right to be here. It’s not fair. You left. You chose not to come home.”
My voice broke, and she reached for me again. I fought her at first as tears burned my eyes, but then she was cupping my cheeks and my God, she still smelled the same. Like flowers and hand cream.
“Fuck you, Grace” I cried as she cradled my face in her hands. “Fuck you.”
She didn’t hug me, but her forehead met mine as we both cracked down the middle. I hated her so much, but even after everything, I wanted her to love me.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she said, over and over, as her thumbs swiped at my traitorous tears. “I’m so sorry.”
And I hated her. I hated her, and I loved her, and I didn’t know what to do with any of it.
So we stood in the tower and wept, foreheads pressed together, her hands—so much smaller than I remembered—holding my face like it was something fragile and precious. And my God, I hated her so much.
But then she said, “It’s okay to be angry with me. It’s okay to hate me. And you have every right to never forgive me. But I hope—” She had to swallow and take a breath. “I would like to see you sometimes. If you’d let me. If you’d want that too.”
It didn’t feel fair. She’d come back when we were at our most vulnerable. The unforgiving part of me wondered if it was a calculated move. The other part—the little boy part—thought maybe it had simply been time.
“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” I said, and she nodded, expression shattering anew.
“Okay,” she croaked.
“But,” I said, and her fingers twitched, thumbs pressing into my wet cheeks. “But maybe I could text you sometimes. If I feel like it.”
She smiled, a hesitant, cracked thing. “I’d like that very much.”
When we managed to dry our tears, I allowed her to help me climb out of the castle, her hands keeping me stable as my feet found purchase on the ground. We walked back to the house that had once been hers, then was my dad’s, and was now mine.
Will was on the front porch as I limped up the driveway, white-knuckling my cane in one hand as the other brushed my mother’s arm every other step. Will was the one to assist me up the porch steps, but when Mom reached out to take my coat, I let her remove it and hang it on the coat rack.
That evening, Cora cooked a meal for four, and we ate together around the dining room table. The conversation was stilted, the silences painfully awkward, but I thought, maybe, it was the start to something.
It wouldn’t be a quick fix. I didn’t know if I could ever truly forgive her, if we could ever rebuild all that had been lost. But every foundation had to start somewhere. Maybe this could be our cornerstone.
“Monday, ADT is coming to install the security system,” Will said as we loaded the dishwasher.
“Oh, okay.”
“You’ll need to set the alarm when you leave for school in the mornings and at night before you go to bed. You disarm it with a code, and you can connect using the app to check on things, get alerts, that kind of thing.”
I rinsed a plate, before handing it off to him. “Geez, how much is this thing gonna cost?”
“You don’t need to worry about that. Okay?” he said, tossing a dishwasher pod inside. “It’s for your safety.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I acted nonchalant, but I was actually grateful. I didn’t plan on sleeping here alone often, but it was nice knowing the security system would be in place if I needed it.
“I talked with the realtor, and they advised me to put the house on the market sooner rather than later.” He propped his hip on the counter as I dried my hands. “It’s not a seller’s market. It could take a month or so to find a buyer, and closing could take a while too. I want to make sure it sells before the end of summer.”
“And if it sells sooner?” I asked.
“You have options. Sadie’s old room at Uncle Rick’s. Ben’s aunt and uncle have said you are welcome to stay with them. After the funeral, your friend—Kim, I think?—her mom mentioned in passing how they have a guest room.” Will scratched the back of his neck. “None of this is ideal, but if you don’t want to come to Cali with us—”
“I get it,” I said, gripping his forearm. “I’ll make it work. If push comes to shove, I could get an apartment with a monthly lease. Wouldn’t be anything fancy, of course, but I’ll figure it out.”
“I hate leaving you here,” he said.
I squeezed his arm. “I know, but you can’t uproot everything in your life. You’re close to graduating. You have a baby on the way. And I have things to finish here. It’s not ideal, but it’s the reality. So, stop feeling guilty. You’re not abandoning me. I’m a big boy; I’ll be fine.”
“You always were self-reliant,” he mused as he covered the back of my hand with his. “We’ll stick around for another week, I think. Just to make sure everything’s, you know, taken care of.”
“Thanks, Will. I know I’m an ungrateful ass most of the time, but I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“We’re brothers,” he said, hooking a hand around the back of my neck. “We gotta take care of each other now.”
“Always,” I promised and meant it.