One Month Later

“What the fuck is he doing here?” I growl between clenched teeth.

Peaches rips the bottle of whiskey from my hand. “Because your mother asked to see him.”

“You should’ve told her the fucker was dead.”

She steps right up in my face, and for a brief second, I think she’s going to slap me in the face. “She is dying and has the right to speak her peace to the man. This is about her, not you, Hart. Swallow your fucking pride and give this to her.”

She backs away slowly. I understand what she’s saying, but it does nothing to soothe the fucking anger boiling inside me. How much can one man take before crumbling to the earth? A mother who is going to die any day, a girl who ran, not even leaving me a fucking note, and now dealing with my fucking father.

The man who beat the shit out of us. He gets to spend sacred moments with my dying mother. It’s enough to send me right over the motherfucking edge of insanity. The push and pull of needing the whiskey is intense. It dulls the ache in my chest, but it also takes away the clarity of my mind to be with my mother.

“Hart.”

I look up to see my father. I didn’t even hear him knock or the door shut. My insult is on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow down the bitter pill realizing he’s not worth wasting air on.

“She’s this way.” Peaches leads him to my mom’s room.

I follow them because no way in hell is that monster going to be left alone with her. I stand at the end of her bed with my arms crossed over my chest. The nurse leaves the room, and so does Peaches. I don’t even make the offer to.

“Maria.” Her name falls from his mouth in a hopeless tone.

Mom looks him dead in the eye. “Thank you for coming.”

My jaw clenches and my teeth grind to the point of breaking one or two of them. If she apologizes to him, then this fucking meeting is over.

“I have some things to say before I die. One day when you are dying, knowing your days, hell, even your hours, are numbered, I don’t want you on your death bed thinking of your family. I don’t forgive you and never will.” She pauses catching her breath.

“Mom.” I take a step to her other side.

“No, Hart.” She reaches over, grabbing my hand then looking back at the man who was supposed to love and cherish her. “I don’t forgive you and never will. You took away the best years of my life before cancer struck. It took my boy to make me leave. You don’t hold power over me anymore. I don’t regret marrying you because you did give me my two babies. I want you to walk out of this house feeling like the worthless piece of shit you are. And don’t you dare ever think about contacting Hart.”

She turns her head to look at me. Tears stream down her face, her is grip tight on my hand, and I’ve never been prouder of her than I am now.

I stare down at her, not looking away. “You can leave now, Arthur.”

The sounds of his footsteps vanish and then the front door slams shut. Mom continues to cry.

“I am so proud of you, Mom.” I brush the tears away.

The emotion clogs my throat. “I hope to be half of the person you are one day.”

“Hart.” She peers up at me. “Will you hold me?”

I answer her by scooping her up in my arms, carrying her to her rocking chair. The same one she used to rock me in when I was a child. I settle in, reaching down for her blanket and then rock her.

“She’ll come back to you, Hart.”

“What, Mom?”

“Vannie will come back to you because I know you’ll go get her. Don’t let a love like I had with Samuel slip through your fingers.”

“She’s gone, Momma.”

“That girl loves you and has a damn good reason for running.”

I simply nod, not wanting to argue with her right now because the bitter poison in my heart from what Vannie did to me is dangerous.

“Want to read a book?” I ask her.

She nods and smiles. I reach down, picking up her Kindle and flipping through all the books we haven’t read.

“You want erotica, college, western romance?”

“You pick, son.” She reaches up holding onto my forearm. “Never lose your love of reading, escaping into a fantasy world. Discover the hope between each written word and live out your own story.”

I pull up a romance book we haven’t read yet and begin reading to her. I read until my eyes grow heavy. We’ve made it through sixty percent of the book. Mom fell asleep hours ago, but I continued to read, cherishing each moment of it, doing exactly what my momma told me to do. Find the hope.

When I doze off a time or two I set the Kindle down, kiss her forehead, and then tell her how much I love her and always will.

“And, Mom, when you meet Belle up there, tell that cocksucker hi for me.” The tears stream down my face until sleep takes over.

I dream about all those childhood memories my mom cherished. I see Belle, and we play in our backyard while waiting for mom to call us in for dinner. I feel the slap to the back of my head when I sneak cookie dough out of Mom’s mixing bowl. Finally, the sound of all three of our laughter is the last part of the dream.

Opening my eyes, I focus in on Peaches who’s on the couch crying and the home nurse sitting next to her holding her. I know. I know before even looking down at my mother that she’s gone home to meet Belle.

My entire world is swallowed whole. When I look down to my mom’s peaceful face, I lose it for the first time. The roar that comes out of my mouth is deafening, and it takes me long beats to realize it’s coming from me. I hold her to my chest, crying and yelling out the hurt drowning me.

* * *

“She always loved her hair done like this.” Peaches gives the wig on my mother’s head one more fluff. “I swear when we were younger that woman would rat her hair so high I thought it would fall out one day.”

My aunt steps back with tears slowly streaming down her face. They quickly turn into a downpour. I wrap her up in my arms and hold her for a long time. We knew this was going to be the hardest day of all, but we were determined to have Momma perfect before she was buried.

The staff at the funeral home has been accommodating us with our final wishes. Mom made it easy with us picking out her outfit and jewelry. I made sure it was all on her, even her friendship necklace that she shares with Vannie. Out of all her family heirlooms and favorite pieces, she was very persistent about that piece.

Peaches had to put it on her and adjust it on her chest because the metal burned the pad of my fingers.

“She’s perfect,” Peaches mumbles into my chest.

“She is.”

We stand there holding each other and cry for a long time until we’re both ready to walk away. We hold each other up each step of the funeral. Peaches will never know she’s my rock through this whole process.

We make our way upstairs and are stopped by one of the staff members.

“There’s been a new delivery of flowers. Here are the cards that were attached.” She extends a thick stack of cards to me.

I take them, thanking her and then head out to my car. Tomorrow is going to come all too soon.