Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Mase
Imet Jacob when I had just turned fourteen, shortly after finding out about the monster I came from, and right after we had moved away from everyone we ever knew.
I had gone into his parents’ furniture store to get a small dresser for Mom, and he was sitting behind the counter, playing on a Gameboy.
My eyes had drifted to the device in his hands several times before he asked if I wanted to have a turn. After that, he asked if I wanted to come over and play video games with him and his friends.
That was the start of our friendship.
But after my experience with my old friends, I kept him and the others at a distance. I reinvented my personality to one they’d never really want to know too deeply, and never revealed my true self that was hidden underneath.
That was the best way I knew how to deal with it. To keep myself protected.
I stare at my phone screen, reading the only text I’ve sent Campbell in the past several years.
Me: I’m sorry.
Two fucking words.
They’re the only words I could think of to say without going into details about what really happened to Jayne. They’ll all know the truth about Jacob soon enough when she makes things right, as she said, but it didn’t feel right with me telling them anything just yet.
Not that they didn’t already believe he was innocent.
Sighing, I read the words again. So insignificant.
But how do you make up for such a wrong assumption?
I blocked Campbell after I sent the text, too ashamed to find out if he’d respond, or even read it, for that matter. I blocked Neil as well. I had messed things up with them long before Jayne did anything.
“Mase, honey.” Mom’s voice pulls me out of my head, and I look up at her sitting in the chair by the window. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”
Swallowing, I look back down at my phone, then shove it into my pocket, giving her my full attention.
The sun is shining through the window, highlighting the red strands in her hair. She looks good today.
It’s still cold out, but we’re past the worst of it, the days staying brighter for longer.
I tap my fingers on my thigh, trying to think of how to answer her.
To be honest, I’m surprised it’s taken her this long to ask me again since the last time. She’s usually relentless.
But I was far from ready to talk about it then, and maybe she knows that.
“And don’t tell me nothing again,” she adds. “I’ve watched you your entire life, but I’ve never seen you quite like this.”
I wonder if by “this” she means the scruffy beard I’ve been sporting, or the dark circles from the sleep I haven’t been having?
I don’t think Mom is going to settle for anything less than the truth, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, “Why did you keep me?” It’s the one question I’ve never asked her, keeping it hidden in a dark place so I wouldn’t keep thinking about it.
“Why would you ever want a piece of him?”
Her eyes widen and her mouth parts, clearly taken aback, and not at all expecting those questions. But even with the blunt subject, her gaze melts into soft brown as she looks at me.
“Oh, honey. I’ve never seen you as a piece of him.
Not once. And as for why I kept you . . .
” Her gaze drifts to the window, her mind briefly lost in thought, lost in the past. “I was depressed the weeks after it happened. Torn apart on the inside. I was a mess, and felt like something was taken from me.” She pauses, and I see the old scars peeking through her expression.
It hurts to hear these things. And it hurts to think about Jayne experiencing something similar.
“When I found out I was pregnant, it felt like I was given something back. You lifted my spirits and gave me something to live for.”
Turning back to me, Mom’s lips turn up on one side, chasing away those scars, making her look young again.
“You want to know why I decided to keep you? Because I loved you from the moment I found out about you.”
My eyes fall shut as a boulder the size of a watermelon clogs my windpipe, making it hard to both breathe and swallow.
I never let myself hope that that might be the reason. Not after my experiences as a teenager when I first found out.
Being a mistake she didn’t want was easier to believe, because that’s what I was already told.
Told by others. But never by my mother.
One of the cracks in my soul begins to close, and I start to think that maybe Jayne was onto something with the soul-searching thing.
Only, my search had to start from where I began. I see that now.
“Is that what’s been bothering you?”
Opening my eyes, I huff a breath. “For the past fifteen years.”
But I will spare my mother the torment of knowing just how messed up things had gotten in my mind.
The soft sound Mom lets out is filled with heartbreak. “Mase, come here.”
I don’t hesitate. Rising to my feet, I drag the chair I was sitting on across the room until I’m close enough to hers, then I reach out and take her hand in mine, feeling the slightest pulse as she tries to squeeze it in return.
Ever since she lost the ability to walk, she’s preferred to be sitting close whenever we start a serious conversation.
I know she hates that she can’t just get up and come to me, that she can’t reach out and pull me into a hug if she needs it—or knock me over the head when I need it.
Yet, true to her gentle and accepting nature, she never complains about it.
“I have never, and will never, see you anything other than a blessing.”
I smile with an exhale, that same crack sealing shut.
My eyes drop to the pink top Mom’s wearing, and I can’t help but think of Jayne’s pink tank top I found tangled in my sheets. It’s been tucked under my pillow ever since.
What is she doing right now, I wonder? Is the therapy helping her? Is she all alone again? Sad? Does she need me?
“You were right when you said I was trying to fix something I didn’t do,” I admit, returning my gaze to her face. “I was always trying to make up for being alive.”
Sorrow fills her expression, tears welling along her lower lid. “Oh, Mase. That breaks my poor heart.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you apologize. I just wish I had set you straight a long time ago.”
“I was too busy pretending I was fine.”
A sad smile crests on her face. “Busy helping others as always.”
I run my free hand through my too long hair, thinking how I need a haircut.
“It’s not that I don’t enjoy what I do.”
“Of course you do,” she says, her eyes still shiny, but now filled with pride. “You’ve been a caring soul your entire life. That didn’t just start when you were a teenager.”
As in, when I found out about my sperm donor.
At least I know not everything was about me trying to overcompensate. I’ll be able to tell that to Jayne when I see her again one day.
My lips quirk with a wry smile, realizing just how much I needed to have this conversation. And Jayne knew it.
The boulder in my throat seems to have shrunk, and even some of the chips on my shoulders were dusted off, making them feel lighter.
The image of Jayne on the bathroom floor flashes in my mind, but I quickly push it away.
“I was seeing someone,” I confess, watching as her eyes grow round with interest. “A woman.”
“You had a girlfriend? When?”
I rub at the back of my neck, feeling shitty for not telling her. I really should have before now.
“The end of last year. It wasn’t for long, but things moved quickly. We’re, um . . . not together right now while we sort some things out.”
Mom’s mouth opens as if saying a silent ah. Then she watches me intently for a moment, reading everything on my face. The sadness, happiness, and everything in between. “You love her?”
The corners of my mouth tug downward as I pick at some fluff on my pants. “Yeah. I do.” I just never got to tell her that.
A soft smile touches Mom’s lips. It’s what she’s wanted for me for a long time. But then the smile floats away, replaced by concern. “What happened?”
I huff a humorless laugh. Where do I even begin?
“A lot.”
“Well, how about we start with who this girl is. I would give you heck for not telling me, but you already look like you’re going through enough.”
Puffing my cheeks, I blow out a breath. “Well, you’re not going to believe this . . .”