Chapter 14 Let Peace Exist
Let Peace Exist
Max
I’m standing at the edge of the trail when my phone rings. I’m trying to convince my brain to quiet down long enough to enjoy the view from here but one look at the screen and my shoulders tense.
My mother.
I answer on the second ring. “Hey, Mommy.”
“Max,” she says, voice tight and I can tell calling me was the last thing she wanted to do. “Justine’s late. My appointment was twenty minutes ago, and she’s not answering her phone.”
I take a deep breath.
“I’ve got it,” I say, pulling my phone away from my ear to pull up my sister’s number. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
I hang up and dial Justine. Once. Twice. On the third ring, she answers, music thumping in the background.
“What?” she says, annoyed.
“I’m sorry, what? Justine, where are you?” I ask, keeping my voice dangerously calm, even though I’m two seconds away from reaching through this phone and choking her within an inch of her natural Black life.
“I’m… out,” she says, as if she has nowhere else to be.
“Out. Where, Justine?” I press.
“The Supper Club,” she admits. “I got invited by some guys we met last night.”
I stare at my phone, genuinely stunned by the audacity. “Some guys you met, J? What the hell is wrong with you? Mommy has a doctor’s appointment. No—had an appointment. And you missed it.”
Did this wench really just suck her teeth?
“I forgot about the appointment, okay?” she says, irritated. “It’s not that serious.”
I close my eyes and inhale slowly through my nose. “Not that serious.”
“I said I forgot—”
“You don’t get to forget,” I snap. “She doesn’t get a pause button because you wanted free drinks and attention.”
She scoffs. “You’re always so dramatic.”
I don’t have the energy to argue with her. I don’t have it in me to let her ruin the peace that is calling my name out here.
I hang up without another word and immediately call the doctor’s office, apologize profusely, and reschedule the appointment. Again. I confirm the new date, thank the receptionist like she’s doing me a personal favor, and end the call with a headache blooming behind my eyes.
I swear, I can’t even get a week of rest.
Then I text Justine.
Max: The appointment has been rescheduled for Wednesday at nine in the morning. You will be there early. If you miss it, I’m done paying your car note and your phone bill. I don’t care whose money it is. I have POA. Try me.
I stare at the message for a long second before sending it, because I know I don’t actually want to do this.
I hate threatening her. I hate the idea of her having to fend for herself.
But I also know that love sometimes means letting people fall on their faces when they insist on acting like assholes.
By the time Justine hit her teens, I knew exactly who she was going to be.
The spoiled kid who took everything for granted.
It’s why my mother and I set up the POA, power of attorney, early.
Just in case something happened. We knew, even in our mother’s absence, Justine wouldn’t value anything simply handed to her.
She quit every activity we paid for. Dumped men who wouldn’t take her to the “right” restaurants. And when my mother bought all of us a trip to Greece to celebrate her college graduation, Justine asked if she could cash hers in to go to Bali with her friends instead.
So yeah. I hit send on the text. Because at this very moment? Fuck her.
Still, my hands shake a little when I lower my phone.
This is usually when I call my therapist and ask for an emergency session.
When I swoop in to fix things before letting people deal with the consequences of their own choices.
When the guilt creeps in. And when I start beating myself up for abandoning a boundary and cushioning the fallout for the people I love, she’s usually there to help me untangle my messed-up heart.
She helps me release the misplaced guilt that inevitably comes when I choose me instead of everyone else.
But I don’t call her this time. I don’t even know where I’d begin. I’m even having a hard time believing what I’ve managed to get caught up in.
I look back at the trail in front of me. Tall trees. Open space. A type of quiet that doesn’t demand anything.
Maybe this is why Bear loves it here. Why he’s drawn to this place like it offers something he can’t find anywhere else. And I can’t help but wonder if there’s something out here for me, too. Something solid. Something that doesn’t unravel the second I stop holding it together.
I take a slow breath and let the cool air fill my lungs, deep and clean, like it knows exactly where to settle.
And for a moment, I don’t move.
I just stand there and let the peace exist.