11. Hawk
Irarely left my house anymore, but when I did, it was to come here.
The irony of that fact wasn’t lost on me; me not wanting to leave my house after all the years I spent trying to get my mother to leave hers was almost the perfect cosmic joke.
Pulling my truck into the driveway, I sighed as I took in the little house in East Hollywood where I’d grown up. Over the years, I’d made as many improvements to the property as I could—including upgrading to top-of-the-line security—but it wasn’t what I wanted for her.
At all.
My mother, though, had different ideas, and as much as I’d tried over and over to sway her, she persisted.
And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Well, I could, but she wouldn’t like the lengths I’d actually gone to, so I kept them to myself.
Exiting my truck, I clicked the lock and pocketed my keys before opening the gate and heading for the front door. I had a key, but I preferred to knock. It gave Mom the opportunity to try to come to the door, even if it was just for a few minutes.
I could hear her moving around, her footsteps making their way to the front door and then back again, twice before she finally twitched the curtain on the long skinny window beside the door and peeked out, smiling in relief when she saw that it was me.
“There’s my boy,” she said, opening the door just wide enough for me to slip through sideways, and then shutting it again as quickly as she could. “It’s so nice to see you, Hawk.”
“Hey, Mom,” I replied gruffly, looking around.
The house hadn’t changed much in the more than twenty years since I’d moved out, and the feeling of nostalgia that washed over me was immediate. I could see the spot on the wall where she’d measured my height every year on my birthday, even when I was so much taller than her that she’d needed to use a stool to reach the top of my head. The couch was new—I bought her a comfortable reclining piece for Christmas last year—but the knitted blanket that was artfully draped across the back was the same one I’d cuddled under as a kid, watching daytime TV when I’d stay home sick from school. There were things like that everywhere, pieces and moments of my life that felt as though they had been a million years ago, but somehow, just yesterday at the same time.
“I have tea,” Mom called, her voice thin, and I headed into the kitchen, finding her bustling at the stove. She always made tea when I came over. She said it calmed her down, and that was important. So, even though I really didn’t like tea, I drank it.
Every time.
“I ordered that lemon kind again. I know you’re not really singing all that often these days, but it can’t hurt to keep your throat healthy anyway.” Glancing over her shoulder at me, she gave me that same watery smile. “You never know what the future might hold.”
“Lemon is great, Mom,” I said, but her words sank like a stone in my stomach.
Right now, I had no fucking idea what the future held for me, but I couldn’t see anything that would lead me back to singing with Black Kite again.
Not after all the shit we’d been through.
Setting those bleak thoughts aside, I sat at the table, watching as she moved around the familiar space, grabbing mugs and sugar and a plate of my favorite cookies, the ones she always had on hand for my surprise visits. When the kettle had boiled, mom filled both mugs and set them on the table before bringing over our tea bags, lemon for me and chamomile for her.
“So,” she said, staring at her mug as she danced the tea bag up and down slowly in the hot water. “What brings you my way on this beautiful day, kiddo? Don’t you have important rock star things to be doing or something?”
“Nothing more important than my mom,” I said sincerely, but she just snorted.
“Of course not.”
“Mom,” I dragged out, whining like I used to. “I come by when I can. You know that.”
“I do know that,” she said, reaching for a cookie. “Just like I also know that your life is a whole lot bigger than sitting in this dusty old house with your old mom.”
“You’re not old,” I denied immediately.
“Yes, I am, Hawk. I have been for a while now.”
I frowned, looking at her—really looking at her—for the first time in a long time and I realized that she was right. Her hair, dark brown like mine, was shot through with streaks of silver. Not just a little, either, but whole sections of long silvery strands woven into the braid she was currently wearing. Her hands were wrapped around her mug, and as I looked, I could see the skin was soft, the blue of her veins showing more prominently than I could ever remember seeing before. And even her face, the face that had been smiling at me with love and acceptance for as long as I could remember, was now permanently creased in the places where those smiles had lived.
She was beautiful, my mom.
But she was getting older, and I hated myself for how I hadn’t really noticed.
“Are you alright?” I asked suddenly, watching as her smile dimmed a little.
“Of course I am, honey.”
“No, Mom, I mean—” I pressed my fist against the table, fighting the emotion that was swelling up inside me. “Are you sure you’re alright here still? In this house? Do you feel safe? Happy? Can I do anything for you?”
“Hawk,” she said softly, one hand reaching out to cover my clenched fist. “Honey, where is this coming from?”
“I just—” I blew out a breath, focusing on the feel of her warm hand against my own. “I feel like I’ve failed you. Like I signed that contract and just left. I left you here, alone, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
“Hawk Jameson,” she said, her tone the same one she’d used when I’d left dishes in the sink. “You stop that right now. You know why I’m still here. Why I can’t—why I can’t leave.” She took a breath, closing her eyes for a moment before continuing. “I have never wanted for anything from you but your time, and you always give that to me when you can.”
“I could have come more—” I started, but she cut me off.
“You came when you could,” she said pointedly, and I knew she meant more than she was saying.
I came when I was sober. I came when I was struggling.
I came when I needed her.
The selfish asshole I had been had always come when she could do something for me instead of visiting to see if I could do something for her. I had done nothing but take when I should have been giving, and I hated myself for it.
“I know I haven’t always been easy to deal with,” she went on, oblivious to my brutal self revelations. “I tried to be better for you, Hawk. I really did.”
“Hey.” Turning in my chair, I reached for her, this time covering her hands with mine. She was so small, but her delicate structure hid such strength. “You did everything you could, Mom. I know that. I only pushed as hard as I did to get you to move because I could have put you up somewhere nice.” She scowled, opening her mouth to protest, but I cut her off. “I know this house is nice. But you know what I mean. I’d love for you to have a sweet little place out in Malibu, on the water where the breeze could blow in all day, and you could watch the sunsets from your rooftop patio, safe and secure.” She smiled again, and I knew that no matter how hard she protested, she would love living like that.
She just couldn’t make herself get there.
“It sounds lovely,” she agreed, and the sadness in her eyes broke me just a little more. Because she could tell herself she was happy all day long, and maybe she was, in general. But she also knew what her limitations were, and how much she was missing by not being able to leave this place.
“You still meeting with Dr. Atkins?” I asked, knowing the answer already.
“I am. That woman is so nice to talk to, Hawk. Thank you for finding her for me.”
I hadn’t found her, Tori had, but I kept that little piece of information to myself. Mom hated Tori, but she was doing so well with Dr. Atkins that I didn’t want to jeopardize her progress by tainting the situation with Tori’s touch.
“I’m glad it’s working out, Mom.”
“You know,” she said, sipping her tea and sliding the plate of cookies my way. “Dr. Atkins said that with a little more time, I might be able to visit you at your house one day. I sure would love a swim in your pool.”
“That would be great, Mom,” I said, taking the lie for what it was worth and offering her one of my own. “I know it will happen.”