Chapter 40
FORTY
CHANCE
I never imagined going to my mother’s funeral in my twenties. I thought I’d be a graying old man before she left me.
Ever since I can remember, I could count on my mother. She was my rock, taking the brunt of Dad’s shit when he was unhappy with my grades, my training, or if I had issues in my personal life. I’d wished she didn’t drink as much, but she was a present parent.
She’d told me she’d stopped drinking, but the coroner said she had high levels of alcohol in her system and fell down the stairs in her high heels.
It doesn’t sound right to me, since she’s teetered on high heels after finishing bottles of wine and never so much as slipped, but it only takes one mishap.
Now I’m sitting here in an uncomfortable suit, staring at the obituary I got from my mother’s service.
It was really nice, no thanks to my father. My grandfather stepped in because I couldn’t tell up from down and Dad couldn’t be fucked enough to take off work to bury his wife. His excuse? He was so heartbroken that he’d drowned himself in work.
Grandpa came over the night I flew in and had it out with my father. The fight was so loud and violent, I thought my grandfather was going to choke his son out.
I wouldn’t have been upset if he had.
A lump lodges in my throat as I look at the picture my grandfather chose for Mom’s final photo.
She was so beautiful in this picture. I was the one that took it.
One day when we were in the backyard, just hanging around a few years ago.
The light had hit her brown hair just right, making it look so shiny and healthy.
I complimented her on it and told her to pose.
Now it’s the final picture anyone will see of her.
Tears fall from my eyes as I lie back on my bed, holding the obituary to my chest. I wish I had done more to get her out of this prison. She should have had freedom from my dad before she left this Earth.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I speak aloud, hoping that her spirit can hear me.
Her last texts ping around in my brain and guilt assails me. I thought she was drunk again when she sent them to me and I almost didn’t believe her when she told me she wasn’t. It took a phone call, to hear her clear voice devoid of slurring, for me to take her word.
But her messages are still unexplained. Pulling out my phone, I read over them again.
Mom: I think I found something.
Mom: There’s something going on here, but I don’t know what.
Mom: I’ll figure it out, then I’m coming to live with you.
Mom: I promise.
What was she talking about? What was going on? With who? Dad?
I wouldn’t put it past my sperm donor. If there’s something going on, he’s involved. It’s his toxic trait to be involved in everything, even when he’s not wanted.
My phone rings and I roll my eyes, hoping it’s not Priest or Ari or any of my old frat brothers again. They’ve called and texted in the past few days, but I’ve ignored them. It’s too little, too late for them to pretend they care.
Looking at the phone screen, my lips twitch when I see Jett’s name. “Hey, man,” I say when I answer, glad to hear a friendly voice.
He’s called every day, checking on me and telling me he’s spoken to Thorne and Warren to see if I needed anything. He’s always had my back, so, even though I’m hurting, I won’t ice him out.
“Hey. How you holdin’ up?” He sounds somber, his country twang a comfort.
“Hanging in there.”
“I sent flowers to the funeral home. Wasn’t sure if you’d gotten them.”
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I say, “I got them. Thank you. Lillies were her favorites. She would have loved them.”
The flowers were bright purple, pretty much overshadowing every other arrangement in the place. Jett did good. I hope it didn’t set him back a lot of money, as the flowers were more extravagant than I could have imagined.
“That’s good man. Hey, listen, if you need—”
“Can we not talk about death or funerals?” I interrupt. “I just…I can’t take it right now.”
“Of course. I’m sorry about that.”
“All good. Tell me what’s going on there? How’s the team?”
“Fine. They keep asking me how you’re doin’ but I tell them I haven’t heard from you. I figure if you wanted to talk to them, you would.”
He’s not wrong. Fuck all of them.
“Oh!” he says, sounding animated. “You’ll never believe what happened.”
“What’s that?”
“I went do to the registrar’s office to pay my tuition for this semester, but they told me I don’t have a balance. Someone paid for the rest of this year and next. They said it was an anonymous donor that paid a few outstanding balances, for other students on campus as well.”
My chest fills with warmth at the excitement in his voice. My friend is able to relax and not work himself to death for an education.
I’ll have to thank my grandfather again.
Smiling at his happiness, I say, “That’s amazing. I’m glad for you.”
“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “I’ll still go back home and work on the farm, but I won’t have to get a second job. I can actually train this summer.”
“I’ll help,” I quickly volunteer.
He’s quiet for a few beats. “Will your shoulder be up to it? You’ll probably still be hurtin’, right?”
As if he spoke the pain into existence, my shoulder throbs in time to the beat of my heart. I had to wrap my suit jacket around my injured arm for the service, giving me a sort of hunchback look.
I’m only about two weeks post-surgery. By the time summer rolls around, I should have gone through physical therapy. I might not be in pain, but I won’t be one hundred percent. Not well enough to train him, anyway.
Sighing, I say, “You’re probably right. I’ll check up on you, though. I can give you some drills and what not.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
We chat for a little while longer, then hang up. I don’t feel as sad as I was a few minutes ago, but melancholy still grips me. I’m not sure when it won’t.
My mother was my heart. No one will be able to replace her.
A soft knock at my door brings my head up. I hope it’s not my father, then I remember who he is. He’d have barged in already, skipping past the knocking.
The door opens and Felicity pokes her head in, still wearing her funeral attire as well. Even though we’d broken up, she loved my mother, too.
“Hey,” she says and I’m startled that it’s her normal voice, the voice I missed since we were in high school, not that whiny shit she did. “Your father let me in before he left. Is that okay?”
“Sure.” I sit up and scoot over so she can have a seat beside me. “Thanks for coming to the funeral.”
“Are you kidding? Your mom was the best.” Her voice catches on the past tense and she wipes the stray tear that streaks quickly down her cheek. “How you holding up?”
“Not good,” I tell her honestly. When I came back here, I expected my mom to be here too. The holiday break was only a few weeks away. I thought I had time.
She nods in understanding. “I can imagine. Hey, about our…relationship. I—”
I hold my hand up, not wanting her to beg for me back during a time like this. “Not right now, Felicity. I just buried my mom.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m not trying to win you back. I wanted to talk about your dad. But you’re right. It’s a bad time.”
“What about him?”
She looks behind her, then lowers her voice.
“He told me I should try to rekindle things when you came home. This was right after your mom was found. Like two or three hours. It felt skeevy to me, but I didn’t know how to text you that or tell you over the phone.
I would have waited, but I’m moving abroad tomorrow. ”
“That’s good. Congratulations.”
She studies me for a few beats. “We were over for a few years, right? It wasn’t just me?”
I nod slowly. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I tried to end things but—”
“But I didn’t let you,” she interrupts. “Because your dad paid me to date you.”
I rear back as if struck. “What?”
She looks remorseful. “I’m sorry, but he and my dad basically shoved us together.
Something about building a dynasty. I didn’t want any part of it, but my dad threatened to cut me off if I didn’t go along.
” Tears fill her eyes. “I had nothing. But now, with the money he paid, I’m getting away from my dad as quickly as possible.
He’s gone on some business trip on the East Coast, and when he comes back, he’ll find me gone. ”
Well, that’s some news to drop. What the fuck? Why is my dad always fucking meddling? Neither Felicity nor I were happy, but my dad thought he knew how to run my life better than me. Fuck what I wanted.
I could blame Felicity, but her father is worse than mine. She knows me better than anyone, so she probably knew if she told me, I’d bring that shit up to my dad, even in a small way. She was protecting herself. It was shitty, but if I were in her shoes, I’d have done the same thing.
Seems like I read her all wrong. While I thought she was being a gold digger, only with me for my money, she was trying to secure her future.
She takes my hand, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry. About your mom and what I did.”
“It’s okay.” I hug her close, the tension leaving her body. “Though you could have called for my birthday,” I joke.
She breathes a laugh, hugging me hard around the waist. “I’m sorry about that, too. My mind was on how to get myself out of an arranged marriage. Just so you know, that gift wasn’t my idea. It was your father’s.”
“He suggested you send me panties?” I ask in disgust.
“Yeah. I was super grossed out.”
“I was grossed out getting them.”
She pushes me in the chest, smiling widely. “What? I’ll have you know it’s a whole business for that.”
It feels good to have a short break from the pain. Before shit when south, Felicity and I were best friends. Maybe someday, we can get back to that.