Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Sawyer
“My mom is dead.” I say the words out loud, watching as King’s eyes widen.
“Fuck, Sawyer.” He walks around the counter, turning me on the barstool, so that I’m now facing him and pulling me into his chest.
I press my head into him, focusing on the steady rhythm of his heart to keep myself calm. I take a deep breath, allowing myself to savor the safe feeling I get being wrapped in his arms.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I think so, but I also feel like it’s weird if I am okay. I’m sad and pissed off. But I also feel kind of fine. Then I feel kind of guilty for feeling that way. Does that make me a bad person?”
“No, not at all,” he reassures me. “You had a complicated relationship with your mom. You have every right to feel whatever it is that you’re feeling.”
“I just kind of feel like I need to go do things, you know?” I say. “I have to go back, I have to plan a funeral. I should probably go through the trailer before the landlord clears it out for the next person.”
“I’ll go with you,” he says without hesitation. “We’ll figure it out together.”
“I love you for that,” I tell him genuinely. “But I think that this is something that I have to do alone.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, seeming concerned.
“Yeah, I am.” I nod. “If you’re there, I’m going to be focused on you and not everything else. Plus, you have the girls, the shop, it’s just too much. It’s not worth all the hassle just for this. I just want to go, say a proper goodbye to my mom, get in and get out, and come home to you.”
“What about your brother?” he asks.
“If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay away, considering I’m sure it was his drugs that she overdosed on.” I huff. “But if he does show, I’ll deal with him. I’ve been doing it my whole life. It’ll be fine.” I reach up, placing a small kiss on his lips.
“I hate the thought of you going alone.” He shakes his head.
“I know.” I nod. “But I have to. I promise I’ll be okay. Trust me?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “Always.”
“Thank you.” I smile softly at him. “Do you mind dropping me at Aria’s on the way? I should talk to her and see if I can take her car.”
“You can take mine,” he says.
“No, you need your car more than she does hers.” I shake my head. “She’s been riding with her photographer guy most days anyway.”
“Okay, just promise to text me the whole time?” he asks. “And if you need anything, Sawyer, you call me. I’ll be there in a second, okay?”
“I know you will,” I tell him. “Thank you.”
“Dad, I’m ready,” Willow yells from the other room.
“Coming,” he yells back.
“Just maybe wait to tell them anything, okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, I will.” He nods.
I follow him out of the kitchen, grabbing my purse while the girls grab their backpacks. We all walk to the car, Ellie stopping next to me as we get to the passenger side.
“Are you okay?” she asks, eyeing me suspiciously. The kid is too intuitive for her own good.
“Yeah, I’m good.” I nudge her, forcing a smile on my face.
I can tell she doesn’t fully believe me but drops it anyway, climbing into the back seat of the car. King drives to Ellie’s school first, dropping her off, and then to Willow’s. Then he starts driving me to Aria’s.
I call the hospital that Mags thought they might have taken my mom to, ensuring that she is in fact there. Then I call the small funeral home that was down the street from where I grew up, making the necessary arrangements for her body to be sent there to be cremated. They luckily had slots open so that the funeral could be set for tomorrow.
I’ll drive up tonight, stay the night, have the funeral tomorrow, and then leave it all behind. For good this time.
It’ll be small, the cheapest option they had, especially considering I don’t expect more than a dozen people to show up. My mom didn’t have many real friends.
By the time King pulls up to Aria’s, I feel like I have more of a plan. I don’t know that it necessarily makes me feel better, but it at least makes me feel more prepared.
“Text me when you’re leaving and when you get there?” King asks as we pull up to the front of the apartment complex.
“I will.” I nod, leaning over to kiss him goodbye.
“I love you, Sawyer.”
“I love you too, Damien.” I smile at him as I get out of the car.
I walk into the building, making my way to Aria’s apartment. I find her sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone, looking exhausted.
“Hey.” She looks up at me as I walk in. “Aren’t you working today?”
“Yeah, change of plans.” I sigh, going to sit down next to her on the couch. “What about you?” I ask.
“Late shoot last night.” She yawns. “I’m off today, thankfully.” She sets her phone down to the side to give me her full attention. “What’s the change of plans? What’s going on?” she asks.
“Mags called me.” I hesitate. “My mom overdosed last night,” I say.
“Fuck, S.” Her eyes widen. “Is she…”
“Yeah.” I nod.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, reaching over to squeeze my hand in hers.
“It’s okay. I think it is, at least. It will be.” I nod to myself. “It’s just…now I have to go back.” I look at her wearily.
“I’ll go with you,” she says, but I hear the fear in her voice even as she says the words.
“No. Absolutely not, A.” I shake my head. “You know that I would never ask you to go back there. I’ll be okay.”
“I’d do it for you if you really needed me.” She shrugs. “Can King go with you?” she asks.
“He offered, but I told him no. Having him there, seeing that part of my life, it’s just a lot. It’s not that I’m embarrassed by it or anything. It’s just if he’s there…” I pause. “I think I just need to do this alone.”
“I get it, but I also don’t like you going back there alone with Brent, and possibly Jasper, lurking around,” she says.
“You know that I can handle myself,” I assure her. “Brent’s been a pain in my ass for years, it’s nothing I can’t deal with.”
“I don’t trust him.” She shakes her head.
“Neither do I.” I huff. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“I don’t like it, but I know better than to try to fight you on it.” She sighs. “At least take my car?”
“That, I will absolutely take you up on,” I say. “I’m gonna go pack a bag, okay?” I stand from the couch, walking toward my room.
I quickly pack a bag, not bothering to take much—just a comfy outfit, a black dress and jacket for the funeral, and some toiletries. I say my goodbyes to Aria, grabbing her car keys and heading down to the car. I throw my bag in the passenger seat and turn on my navigation, set to a motel near where I grew up.
I could stay overnight in the trailer, it’s not like it’s occupied anymore, but I don’t want to chance Brent showing up there. It’s safer to stay elsewhere.
It’s about a four-hour drive with traffic to the motel, and my anxiety grows with each passing second. I stop for food on the way, hitting a grocery store to get some snacks for later. By the time I get to the motel, it’s a little bit after two p.m., and there’s still a million things for me to do.
The motel itself isn’t the nicest place in the world, but it’s not completely horrible. I could’ve stayed at an actual hotel, sure, but the nearest one is a good twenty-five-minute drive from here. Honestly, I’d rather deal with the shitty motel and be closer, especially since it’s only for one night.
I pay the front desk, and they give me the card to unlock my room. I collapse on the bed, trying not to think about just how disgusting these sheets probably are.
I reach over, grabbing my phone to text both King and Aria that I made it here safely. I text King first.
Sawyer: Just got to the motel… sitting in the room for a few, and then I will head to hospital to figure everything out
King: Okay, good. I’m here if you need me. Call me later. I love you.
Sawyer: I love you too
I open up my message thread with Aria, texting her next.
Sawyer: Made it to the motel
Aria: You okay?
Sawyer: I hate it here, but what else is new?
Sawyer: I’m fine, A
Sawyer: Don’t worry
Aria: Love you, S.
Sawyer: Love you
I set a twenty-minute timer on my phone, hoping to take a quick power nap before dealing with the multiple headaches that wait for me and that it’ll give me the strength to get through the day. I close my eyes, but unlucky for me, by the time the timer goes off, I haven’t gotten even a second of sleep.
I force myself out of bed, putting my small duffel bag in the closet and grabbing my purse. I make sure the door locks behind me before heading back to Aria’s car. I drive the fifteen minutes to the hospital where they told me I needed to meet them to sign off on the transfer of my mom’s body to the funeral home.
They seem completely backed up by the time I get there, so I end up waiting over an hour before I’m able to speak to someone and sign all of the necessary paperwork. They ask if I want to see the body, but I decide against it. I’ve seen my mom look pretty rough before, and after everything, I can’t imagine what she’d look like now.
That’s not what I want for the last image of my mom.
Not that the one I do have now is much better.
Her sitting on the couch, apologizing to me for the millionth time. The smile on her face as if nothing was wrong when really, everything was.
At least she looked somewhat happy. I guess that’s the best I can ask for.
Once I finally get out of there, I drive straight to the funeral home to meet with the woman I spoke with on the phone earlier today.
The funeral home itself is quiet when I get there, just the single elderly woman sitting in her glass office to the side when I walk inside. She goes through all the information that she gave me on the phone earlier again, finalizing all the details.
The funeral will be short and quick. My mom wasn’t a religious person, so there will just be a funeral celebrant to talk through the ceremony, and I guess me, saying the eulogy for whoever shows up.
We go through the timing of everything, and then I pay for it all before leaving.
I stop at a drive-through, getting myself dinner on the way back to the motel. I also call Mags, telling her about the funeral and asking if she could spread the word to anyone else who she thinks may want to come.
I’m exhausted by the time I get back to the motel room. I quickly eat my food, shower, and collapse onto the bed. As defeated as I feel today, I know that tomorrow will only be worse.
Tomorrow, I have to officially say goodbye to my mom once and for all.
Then there’s the fact that Brent might show up. I can hope that he won’t, but that would be me being na?ve.
If I’m here and he has a chance to try and get money from me, then he will. It’s better if I’m prepared for it, hence the mace and miniature taser I keep in my purse.
But hopefully it won’t come to that.
I know I should find a way to deal with Brent once and for all, but it just seems like more trouble than anything else when I’ll be gone by tomorrow anyway. He’ll never leave this place, even to look for me. Once I’m gone, I’ll never see him again.
He deserves worse, but that has to be enough for me for now.
Hopefully, I can say goodbye to my mom in peace and make it through the day unscathed.
But then, nothing is ever that easy, is it?
I stand anxiously at the front of the funeral home as a couple of people filter in, sitting throughout the pews. There are less than a dozen people here as we wait for the clock to hit one p.m. so that we can start.
Mags sits near the front with both of her kids, who have grown a foot since the last time I saw them. There are a few other people from the trailer park, and then others from various places my mom has worked over the years.
They all come up to me, telling me they’re sorry for my loss and wishing me the best before taking their seats.
An urn filled with my mom’s ashes sits on a table in the front and center of a room, a small picture frame sitting next to it. It’s an old picture from when she was younger, maybe a year or two after I was born. She looks happy, vibrant, beautiful.
It’s how I want to remember her, even if I have hardly any memory of her that way myself.
I take my seat on the front pew by myself as the funeral celebrant starts the ceremony. Luckily, my brother’s nowhere in sight as she talks about the wonderful life my mom lived.
She goes on about how she’s survived by her beautiful children—the mark she left on the world.
How loved she was and always will be.
It’s all bullshit, but it’s what everyone wants to hear.
When she’s done with her speech, she invites me up to say a few words.
I move to stand in front of the urn, taking a deep breath and pulling a piece of paper out of my pocket with the few nice words I could think to say. I stare at it for a second before crumbling it back up and shoving it in my jacket pocket.
“Isn’t it funny how at funerals they only talk about how amazing the person was?” I ask, a hollow laugh falling from my lips. “My mom was amazing in some ways, but she was really fucking shitty in others.”
I hear the slight gasp of the funeral celebrant and the sound of Mags trying to hide her laughter.
“My point is that Mary Davis wasn’t just one thing,” I say. “She was a young woman who grew up happy and fell in love. She was a wife. She was a woman who experienced unimaginable loss. She was a widow. She was an addict.” I take a deep breath. “My mom was many things, both good and bad, and even if she didn’t always act like it, she was my mother.”
I turn toward the picture of her sitting on the table, a small smile covering my face at how carefree she looked.
“She tried the best she could. Her life wasn’t perfect, and it definitely wasn’t always wonderful. I don’t know that she left a mark on the world or that anyone will remember her for anything significant. But she was loved, and I’ll remember her. The good, the bad, and everything in between.”
Chills rack through my body, and I reach around, placing my hand on the back of my neck. The reminder of the tattoo beneath my fingers brings me peace.
“I hope you find peace, Mom. That you’re happy,” I whisper, still looking at her picture. “I love you.”
I force myself to turn away, clearing my throat and sitting back down on the front pew. The funeral celebrant says a few final words before thanking everyone for coming and ending the ceremony.
I sit in silence for a few moments, a couple people coming up to say goodbye to me as everyone filters out of the room. After about ten minutes, the celebrant informs me that they have another party coming in shortly. So, I force myself up, grab my mom’s picture and the urn, and make my way out of the funeral home.
I’m so distracted that I don’t even notice the tall figure leaning against the wall right outside.
“Is that Mom?” Brent asks, nodding to the urn in my hand.
His eyes are bloodshot, large bags under them, and he looks skinnier than the last time I saw him. He looks like a fucking mess.
“Yup,” I say, turning away from him to walk to my car.
“We have to talk, Sawyer,” he says, following me.
“Got nothing to say to you, Brent.” I shrug.
“Yeah, well, I got things to say to you.” He grabs my arm roughly, stopping me at the front of the parking lot.
“Let go.” I look toward his grip on my arm. “Now.”
“Or what?” He scoffs.
“Or we can have a repeat of the last time I saw you.” I grind my teeth. “How many knees do you think a guy has to take to his dick before I fuck it up permanently?” I raise a brow. “Maybe we should test out the theory.”
“Calm the fuck down.” He grunts, roughly letting go of my arm, pushing it away in the process.
I force my feet to stay flat on the ground, not wanting to let him see my stumble.
“Listen, little sis, I need that money,” he says. “Mom’s dead, and she only left a couple hundred dollars to her name. Jasper’s been coming down on me hard these past couple months. I owe him.”
There’s desperation in his voice, and it’s almost enough to make me feel bad for him. Almost.
“Brent, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you…this is your mess.” I sigh, exhausted. “I don’t have any money to give you. Especially after paying for this entire funeral myself. If Jasper’s really scaring you, the only advice I have for you is to run.”
“I would never run from Jasper. He’s my brother,” he says, puffing his shoulders up.
“And yet here you are, asking your sister for money because big brother scares you.” I roll my eyes.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Sawyer. I’m done asking.” He shrugs. “I told you before you left, Jasper needs that money somehow, and if you don’t have it, then you gotta work for it. Let’s go.”
He grabs hold of my arm again, yanking me along with him as he walks toward the parking lot.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” I yell at him. I try to pull away from him, struggling while still holding onto the urn in one arm and the picture frame in the other hand. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Brent.” Anger pulses through my veins as I drop the picture frame to the ground, grabbing hold of his hand off of me.
His grip is tight enough to leave bruises, and as hard as I try, he won’t let go.
“You don’t have a choice, Sawyer,” he says, sounding irritated. “It won’t even be that bad. Jasper’s guys pay good money. You won’t even have to fuck that many to make up what Mom owes.”
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m fucking anyone at all.” I scoff. “Fucking let go of me,” I yell.
I look down at the urn, knowing I’m going to have to let it go if I have a chance of fighting him off. I’m about to drop it when I feel Brent’s grip on my arm release, the spot where he held it immediately throbbing.
“I’m pretty fucking sure she told you to let go of her.”
King’s deep voice fills my ears, and everything inside of me relaxes. I look up to see him holding my brother by the collar of his shirt. He makes Brent look small in comparison to him.
He looks over to me quickly, concern in his eyes, and I nod at him, assuring him I’m okay without saying the words. He lets go of my brother’s collar, and Brent stumbles to the ground. Before he can regain his balance, King punches him straight in the face, knocking him down fully.
“Are you okay?” He turns to me while Brent cups his jaw in his hands.
I don’t hesitate to throw myself into him, still gripping the urn tightly under my arm, and I wrap the other arm around him. He wraps his arms around me, holding me close.
“I’m fine.” I nod into him. “Just happy that you’re a bad listener and showed up even when I told you not to,” I joke.
“Yeah, well, me too,” he says, squeezing me tightly like he doesn’t want to let go while placing a kiss on the top of my head.
“Looks like little sis found herself a man,” Brent groans as he stands up, facing us. “That was a dumb move, though. You’re gonna pay for that,” he threatens King, who looks completely unbothered.
The problem is that he shouldn’t be. My brother’s threats are empty, but Jasper’s never are. He and whoever else will go after King. God forbid they try to go after Ellie or Willow.
My mind races, a million thoughts going through it, and then it hits me.
This finally has to end.
And I know how to end it.