125. Gabriel
ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FIVE
Every cellin my body wants to get out of here and go home to Florida. Something”s very, very wrong here in South Boston. But I also need to figure out where Beckett fits into this picture.
Because I”m certain he does.
”Babe, what”s our plan now?” We”re still in Riley”s old bedroom, which is basically a time capsule of when she was in high school.
It”s adorable, with the boy band posters on the walls and the lava lamp and the pictures of her and Lorna tacked onto a bulletin board.
”I dunno.” She scrubs her face with her hands. ”Since tomorrow”s the party, do you want to talk to my dad about the wedding before or after that?”
I don”t react the way I want, which is to grimace. ”Probably today, I think. There”s a bit of tension in the air, and it”s best we clear it.”
”A bit of tension?” Riley”s eyebrows practically disappear into her hairline. ”That”s the understatement of the century.”
She turns to the window and looks out. I join her there and fold her into my arms.
”We”ll get through this. Trust me.”
”I hope so.” Her voice is muffled against my chest then she pulls back. ”My mom”s acting really weird. Why don”t you take my dad downstairs for a beer, so I can have time alone with her? I know my mother, she won”t tell me anything that”s bothering her if my father”s around.”
”Okay, I”ll do that. But why? Why won”t she open up if your father”s around?”
Riley shakes her head. ”Because my father will tell her to stop complaining.”
I already dislike Riley”s father, but this makes the feelings a little more intense. Of course, I can”t tell her this so I kiss her forehead. ”Okay. Well. Let”s do it.”
I follow Riley out of the room and back into the kitchen, where Rory is draining a beer and Ava is still sitting in the same place, staring at the fridge.
”Mom, Dad? Hey there.” Riley gives a little wave.
Her father sneers in response. This is one of the most challenging things I”ve ever done, endure this man”s nastiness. How dare he treat his daughter this way?
”Mr. Murphy, I”d like to get to know you a little better. Man to man. How about we have a beer downstairs at that pub? Riley says I can get an authentic Guinness there.”
Rory fixes his gaze on me. Just when I think he”s going to say no, he nods. ”We can do that. Let”s go.”
I give Riley a quick kiss on the cheek and Rory and I walk downstairs, knowing full well the next hour will make or break the rest of the weekend.
RILEY
”Mom?”When Gabriel and Dad are finally gone, I slide into the seat next to her at the kitchen table.
Her fingers are tracing invisible patterns on the worn wood surface. She glances up, her eyes distant, unfocused. ”Yes, dear?”
”Are you okay?” I ask, my voice soft, a note of worry creeping in. It”s like she”s swimming through fog. Normally she”s sharp and funny. Witty. Bubbly, even. This isn”t like her.
She manages a fragile smile that doesn”t quite reach her eyes. ”Of course, dear. Just tired, that”s all.”
But it”s only noon, I want to scream.
There”s something in the way she avoids meeting my gaze, the way her fingers tremble faintly against the table, that tells me there”s more to it. ”Mom, you seem off. Is something bothering you? Are you feeling sick? Have you been to the doctor lately?”
Her smile falters. ”It”s nothing, sweetheart. Just a long day.”
”Are you sure? It”s...noon.” I press gently, my worry growing. She”s always been the one to hold everything together, the pillar of strength. Even when my father was struggling, unemployed, involved in sketchy shit. She was a rock.
To see her like this, so fragile, rattles me.
”Your father and I had a little disagreement earlier, that”s all,” she brushes it off, her voice strained. ”It”s nothing for you to worry about.”
”But I do worry, Mom.” My concern seeps into my tone. ”Please, talk to me. You”ve always been there for me. Let me be here for you. I expected you to be happier that I came home.”
”I am happy, honey. So happy to see you.” Mom”s gaze softens as she reaches for my hand. ”It”s this whole situation. Having everyone here, the tension, your father...” She trails off, her voice barely above a whisper.
”What about Dad? He seems like his normal, grumpy self.” His normal abusive self. But I don”t say that.
”He”s just...” She sighs. ”He”s being stubborn about things, about you and Gabriel, about this weekend.”
”Stubborn how?” I ask, a knot forming in my stomach. I knew it.
”He doesn”t approve, Riley.” Her words hang heavy in the air.
My heart sinks. ”Of what, exactly?”
”Of your relationship with Gabriel.” Her voice wavers. ”He doesn”t think it”s right, doesn”t think it”s good for you. He”s Italian, honey. What did you expect?”
I feel a mix of frustration and confusion bubbling inside me. ”Mom, I don”t understand. Gabriel”s a good man. He loves me, and I love him. Gabriel”s rich, protective, smart. Why can”t Dad see that?”
”It”s complicated, Riley.” She squeezes my hand gently. ”He”s trying to protect you, in his own way. But sometimes, his way can be...”
”Unreasonable?” I finish, a flicker of defiance in my voice.
Ava nods softly. ”Yes, dear. Unreasonable.”
Dad”s a lot of other things, too. An asshole, for one. I stifle another sigh. ”I”m going to the bathroom to wash up. When I”m finished, do you want to head over to the coffee shop? Or the bakery? Maybe go with me to buy Dad a gift.”
”Oh! Well, perhaps.” Mom”s eyes flutter, like she”s falling asleep. She reaches for a pill bottle in front of her and takes a small white capsule. ”Got to take my happy pills. Could you be a dear and get me the other medicine from the bathroom cabinet when you”re done?”
She”s taking medicine? For what? She hadn”t told me this in any of our phone calls. ”Um, okay. Sure.”
I pad into the familiar little bathroom, which is still decorated in the best the late 90s has to offer. I wash up, put on some fresh lipstick, comb my hair. Then I pull open the medicine cabinet and gasp.
There are at least a dozen pill bottles inside. All with my mother”s name on them. I pick up one. It”s a tranquilizer. Then another. A pain pill. I know the names from the crime beat and reading hundreds of police reports as a journalist.
”What the hell?” I whisper. There”s an anti-anxiety drug, a muscle relaxer, and several that I don”t recognize — all from the same doctor.
Something is very wrong with my mother. I slam the cabinet shut and tear out of the bathroom.
”Mom? Mom!” I call out, poking my head into the kitchen. She”s not there.
”I”m in the bedroom, dear,” she says in a soft voice.
I walk down the hall, passing photos of me in a graduation gown and at prom when I went with Cillian O”Connor. My parents” room is at the end of the hall.
”Mom, I thought we were going out...” She”s not in the bedroom. ”Mom?”
”The guest bed...”
I whirl around and push open the door to the third bedroom. She”s lying on the bed, her eyes shut and her arm slung over her face.
”What are you doing in here?”
”This is where I sleep now.”
”Why? What”s going on? What”s wrong with you? Why are you taking so many pills?” The questions pour out of me.
”Oh, dear, don”t worry. I”ll be fine.” She stops talking for almost a minute. ”I guess I”m feeling better now. I don”t need the pill. It”s so light in here. Can you fix that?”
I stand there, gaping at her. There”s a blackout curtain over the window, but it”s not pulled all the way shut, so a sliver of bright sunshine leaks into the room. With trembling hands, I tug it to the side, plunging the room into a near-darkness.
I sit on the bed and rub her leg. ”Mom, you can tell me what”s wrong. Please? I”m worried about you. Please let me help. I”ll do anything. Gabriel will do anything. If you”re sick, we”ll find a doctor. But you have to talk to me.”
I”m begging now, my throat thick with emotion. A horrifying thought occurs to me: maybe my mother”s become a pill addict.
Mom doesn”t answer my questions. Minutes tick by. It feels like it”s been a year since Gabriel left, since my entire world was upended with all this awful, new knowledge.
”Mom, please tell me what”s up.”
”Your father,” she finally says, taking her hand off her face. I can barely make out her features in the dark, but from her tone I know she”s crying.”
”What about him? Did he hurt you?” Again, I wanted to add. I”d seen my father hit her several times when I was a kid.
”No, nothing like that. Riley, all he wanted was for you to be with Beckett. That”s all.”
”What?” I shriek. Beckett? ”What are you talking about? Tell me what”s going on, now.”
She mumbles something unintelligible, then nods off.
I gasp for breath. Something”s going on with my father and Beckett. I need to find out what. Should I go downstairs where he”s having a beer with Gabriel and confront him?
”Fuck fuck fuck,” I whisper, as I pace into the kitchen.
Then another thought occurs to me: what if Gabriel”s in danger with my father?
I quickly type out a text to him.
Are you okay? Are you downstairs?
Babe, I”m fine. Your dad and I didn”t see eye to eye and parted ways, so my guys brought me to the office of the man I went to college with. Going to have lunch with them. I”ll be back soon, have fun with your mother. I love you, please don”t worry