Chapter 25
25
S am’s mom was at the house, standing on the welcome mat, wearing capris and a clingy top, and blinking back at Sam.
“Bonnie?” Sam said, almost like an accusation. She hadn’t called Bonnie mom to her face in a long time. The switch had happened somewhere around the late teens mark, when Sam’s hope that her mom would return vanished like sand in the high tide.
“Bonnie?” Pearl echoed, even louder.
Pearl was by Sam’s side what seemed almost instantly, and the three Leto women were all in the same place for the first time in years.
A wild gust of wind came and turned Bonnie’s umbrella inside out. Which is exactly when the power in the house blinked off. Sam saw the spark from the generator first, then the lights behind her dimmed. Sam and Pearl looked at each other and then at Bonnie, who seemed a few seconds from blowing over herself.
“Well, don’t just stand there like a possum in the road, come in.” Pearl stepped aside and Bonnie brushed past both of them.
Because the windows were boarded up, there was no light in the room. Sam had had the good sense—pre–White Claw drinks—to bring out flashlights. She picked up a heavy blue one from the coffee table and flipped it on.
Her face lit up, like she was telling a spooky story around the campfire. Only this horror tale was about a neglectful mother who returned at the worst possible moment. Then Sam shined it at Bonnie, who held her hand up to shield the light from hitting her eyes directly.
“Why are you here?” Sam asked with an unintentionally forceful tone.
“Your grandma called a few weeks ago to let me know she was selling the house,” Bonnie said.
“Well, I didn’t think you’d just show up without so much as a warning,” Pearl said.
“Mom also mentioned you were back in town,” Bonnie said carefully. “And I wanted to see for myself. We have some things we’d probably like to say to each other.”
“Not to interrupt,” Jessie said as she lit the wick of a candle. “But do you want some hurricane punch? It’s got a nice kick to it.”
“I don’t drink anymore,” Bonnie said.
Sam was in shock. How else to explain why she didn’t let fly the hundred questions she’d had percolating for her mother since the day Bonnie walked out of her life?
Why did you leave?
What did I do wrong?
Did you ever even love me?
Instead, the only thing that came out of Sam’s mouth was, “I’ll have some punch.” Because, really, if ever there was a time to drink, it was now.
Jessie wasted no time opening the slow cooker and ladling out a cup.
“Sam,” her mom said. “You’re so grown-up.”
“I’m thirty-two,” Sam said. “The last time you saw me was when I was a teenager, so...yeah. I grew up. On my own.” Sam hadn’t known she’d be this angry but well, she was.
Jessie handed Sam a cup and her timing couldn’t have been better. Sam hadn’t had more of the hurricane punch yet, but her insides had taken a punch to the gut. She gulped without looking and held back the cough that threatened to spill out.
And Jessie, ever the purveyor of Southern hospitality, opened her arms to Bonnie for a hug. “Welcome home,” Jessie said. Bonnie hugged her back, but kept her eyes trained on Sam.
Sam held her gaze. This wasn’t Bonnie’s home, not anymore, and she didn’t exactly want her mother to think she was welcome there.
“I know this must be really strange, Sam,” Bonnie said as she pulled out of the hug. “It’s been years, like you said. I would’ve seen you sooner...” Bonnie chanced a look at Pearl, whose face had hardened. “When you’re ready, I’d love to talk to you about what happened. Get to know you, if you’ll let me.”
“You never bothered to get to know me before. What changed?” Sam crossed her arms to protect herself.
“Sam,” Pearl warned, stepping between them as if anticipating a fight.
But Bonnie put a gentle hand on Pearl’s shoulder. “I deserve that.” She lifted her soaked top, and then touched a hand to her hair, which was flattened in a wet mop.
“Bonnie, why don’t you go clean up a bit?” Pearl offered.
“By all means, try to wash the guilt off.” Sam gestured toward the bathroom.
“Sam,” Pearl chastised.
“What?” Sam bitterly laughed. “We can’t make jokes now that Bonnie’s back?”
Bonnie didn’t respond to the jab, though. She turned around and searched the space, almost like she didn’t even remember where the bathroom was. And maybe she didn’t; eighteen years was a long time to be gone, even if she had grown up in this house. Eventually, Bonnie walked down the hall and toward the bathroom.
Pearl grabbed Sam’s hand, which was when she realized that her fists were clenched into two angry little balls at her sides.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Pearl said. “I didn’t think she’d come at all.”
“I understand,” Sam said, even though she didn’t. Bonnie never wanted the house, or Tybee, or her old high school T-shirts—or Sam. She’d abandoned those things and fled, so shouldn’t she do them all the favor of never coming back?
“She can’t stay here,” Sam added.
“Well, we can’t just send her out in the storm.” Pearl chewed her lip. “But maybe we can tie her to the fence outside for a bit and let her think about what she’s done.”
Sam glanced at Pearl, not taking the easy route of smirking back. Pearl seemed to take the hint, as she added, “As soon as the storm clears, we can talk about options. But, Sam, she’s my daughter and your mama. If she came all this way, I’m guessing it’s for more than some old junk.”
Sam swallowed. She wasn’t so sure that Grandma Pearl was right—her mom was selfish. There was a distinct possibility that she’d come solely because she’d realized that her favorite tank top hadn’t made it with her in the mad dash to leave town.
The bathroom door opened, and Sam and Pearl stared down the hallway at Bonnie. Bonnie froze under their scrutiny, then shook her head as she walked toward them. “The walls in this house have always been paper thin. My therapist said that if y’all want me to leave, I should respect that.” Then she moved toward Sam. “And I understand why you’d want that, but I do hope you’ll give me a chance to talk to you. Even if it’s just for a few minutes. I need to say a few things.”
The power was out. And a hurricane was coming. And Sam was exhausted from nailing boards to the windows and then, well, getting nailed herself.
“You can stay,” Pearl said. “This is still my house. I haven’t sold it yet. So I make the rules.”
“Thank you, Mama,” Bonnie said.
There was something bizarre about her mom calling Grandma Pearl “Mama,” like she was a little girl again. The sentiment made Bonnie seem more vulnerable than Sam had imagined possible, like she still needed her mother. Bonnie had left Tybee when she was in her thirties, but now the skin on her hands had crinkles and there were deep laugh lines around her mouth.
Who had given her those? She’d clearly been living a good life without them in it.
“I don’t plan to stay long,” Bonnie added.
“Some things don’t change, then,” Sam said. But she couldn’t help notice Bonnie wince at the words.
“Am I supposed to leave or...?” Jessie’s voice startled all three of them.
“Jesus, Jessie, you nearly made me pee myself.” Pearl clutched a hand to her chest.
“Well, I’m not the one who made things awkward by getting into a family squabble. You just don’t do that in front of guests.” Jessie crossed her arms and pointedly looked at Pearl.
Eventually, Pearl said, “Jessie is right. This is a hurricane party, and we’re not about to have a bad time. Can we agree to have whatever conversations need to be had in the morning?”
Bonnie clasped her hands in front of her, and Jessie took another swig of her White Claw.
But Sam wasn’t in the mood to be one big happy family. This whole day was, apparently, cursed. First, with the uncertainty around Damon, and now her mom unexpectedly showing up like an air pocket midflight. She wasn’t about to sit in the living room and pretend that Bonnie’s being here was okay—it absolutely wasn’t. But like Pearl said, this was her house and her hurricane party, and if they wanted to act like everything was normal, that was on them. Sam didn’t have to play along, though.
“You ladies have fun.” Sam grabbed a bag of open pretzels off the counter and another White Claw. “I’m going to bed.”
“Sure you are,” Pearl knowingly said. “See you in the morning.”
“Good night,” Bonnie said, and Sam shot daggers her way.
As she headed down the hall, Pearl asked, “Jess, did you bring Scrabble?”
“Winner gets an extra White Claw,” Jessie said.
“Then you better prepare to be—” Pearl searched for the right word “— annihilated . That’s eleven letters, in case you were wondering.”
“Challenge acknowledged ,” Jessie said. “That’s twelve letters, and the W is worth four points.”
Sam wondered if Bonnie would follow her—after all, her mom seemed insistent on talking—but she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. Sam stopped at the hall closet to grab another flashlight. She flipped it on, walked to her room and closed the door behind her. She picked up her phone and sent a text to Damon.
Sam:
Hey, just want to make sure you’re ok?
Loud gusts of wind blew outside the window, and she had the urge to open it and feel the intense rush of air and rain whipping around the room.
When she was in middle school, she’d once opened the front door in the middle of a hurricane and the thing had nearly torn off the hinges. She’d profusely apologized as Pearl dragged her back inside and managed to slam the door shut. But secretly, there’d been a thrill to nearly being taken along with the storm. Sam had hardly been able to catch her breath as the wind slammed into her. There was a kind of release to not having any control.
The lack of control she had in her situation with Damon was altogether different, however. And now Bonnie was here, throwing yet another hook into the sea of Sam’s messy life. She didn’t want to give Bonnie a minute of her time, but she couldn’t run—there was the hurricane, for one, and she wasn’t about to leave Pearl alone with someone like Bonnie. Who knew what her mom was after; maybe she thought she could cash in on Pearl’s house, or grab jewelry she hadn’t stolen the first time around. Her mom couldn’t be trusted, and Sam knew that much. She’d have to keep a close eye on Bonnie.
Sam glanced at her phone, but there was no text back from Damon. If this were high school, Sam would bring her CD player under the covers and tune out the apprehension about Damon, and the voices of her mom and grandma until morning came. But this wasn’t high school, and her CD player, as it turned out, was more than what it used to be.
If ever there was a moment when Sam needed an evacuation slide, it was now. But there was no emergency exit. She was trapped in the house with Bonnie and the memories of all that pain.
She knew what would make her feel better. What had always brought her an escape when she had to deal with Bonnie. And on impulse, she reached for it.