Dawson
2007
Was I crazy?
I mean, me and Mickie hadn’t known each other that long. She was still in college. Hell, she couldn’t even legally drink yet. And I had a complete lack of understanding of what a healthy, normal marriage between two sane—mostly sane—people looked like.
But the ring was burning a hole in my pocket.
I’d purchased it last week, as more of a good luck charm than anything else, if I was being honest. I’d planned to hold onto it for a while. Keep it safe until I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was the right time to ask Mickie to be my wife.
Then I’d received the letter.
The one that said I’d been accepted into the Baltimore Police Academy.
And I owed it all to Mickie. She was the one who’d encouraged me to go after what I wanted in the first place. I’d like to think I would have pursued it, regardless of whether or not I’d met her. But I honestly wasn’t sure.
I hadn’t told her yet because I was saving it all for a big reveal at the right moment.
The news and the ring.
I was hoping she’d be as excited about the latter as I expected her to be about the former.
Either way, after opening that letter, I knew that now was the right moment to ask her. At least, sometime around now.
We were in my truck, driving up to the University of Virginia to watch Parker’s baseball game.
It marked the first time Mickie would meet him, and I knew she was very eager about it. More than anything, because she wanted to meet some of the family I rarely talked about, at least in detail. Details led to more questions, which led to more answers, which led to revealing shit I was not ready to bring out into the open.
Mason said he would be meeting us there, but who really knew with him.
“So, you grew up in D.C., right?” Mickie asked as we drove along the streets of Charlottesville.
My shoulders tensed at the mention of that city. The city where my deadbeat parents still lived. The city I rarely visited and only when absolutely necessary.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Why?”
I glanced out the corner of my eye, and saw her shrug. “Just curious. You’ve never really talked much about it. How’d you wind up in Baltimore?”
I rubbed the tension out of my neck. Thinking about my past usually did that. “I had a friend who worked at the factory. I needed a job at the time, and the pay was decent. I didn’t really have anything keeping me in D.C.” Not after Parker had graduated high school and gone off to college. “So, I moved to Baltimore.”
She was silent as she digested that information. “And what does your other brother do? Mason?”
Snort all his problems up his nose?
“He’s a mechanic at an auto shop in Baltimore,” I replied. “He sort of followed me there.”
“But you guys didn’t want to live together?” she asked.
No, because he wanted to live with his doped-up friends, as much as I had protested the idea. And I wanted no part of that shit. I’d probably kick his ass on a nightly basis if I had to bear witness to his habits every day.
“He had a friend he’d already made plans to stay with,” I said. “And he and I wouldn’t exactly be good roommates. We don’t always agree.”
She laughed, the sound soothing my nerves. “Yeah, neither do me and Margot. We had to have a Berlin Wall situation in our shared bathroom growing up. And when it collapsed, it was total anarchy.”
I smiled at the image of a shy, high school-aged Mickie losing her temper. She told me she’d been a bookworm back then, all straight-laced and proper. For some reason, that made me want to laugh. She seemed the complete opposite of that now.
“Had a few sister squabbles, did you?”
She scoffed. “If by a few you mean a thousand squared, then yes. She had a whole goth phase she went through where she listened to heavy metal, and was pissed off at the world and everyone in it, including me.”
“And you didn’t? Have a goth phase, I mean?” I would have killed to see her with black lipstick and a nose ring.
“I had an Avril Lavigne phase. Does that count?”
I rolled my eyes and rubbed my hand down her thigh. “Not even close, babe.”
We navigated through Charlottesville traffic and luckily found a parking spot close to the baseball stadium. I held Mickie’s hand as we walked down the sidewalk and through the front gates.
I could do stuff like that, since she was my girlfriend.
And that felt good.
“So, your brother plays third base.”
I nodded. “Right.”
“And who’s the other guy you mentioned?”
I walked toward the concession stand to get us some snacks before we sat down.
“Clay Masterson, Parker’s best friend. He’s one of their pitchers. You’ll meet him, too, after the game.”
As we waited in line and I looked over the surrounding crowd, a familiar slim form with pale skin and short brown hair caught my attention.
What in the motherfuck—
“Wait right here,” I bit out to Mickie and stomped off toward the unexpected spectator.
She glanced up and saw me just as I stopped in front of her. Her eyes were wide with surprise and clearly a little wary.
“Dawson.”
“What are you doing here, Mom?” My voice was calm but had a distinct edge to it.
She shouldn’t have come here.
I couldn’t tell how lucid she was. Sometimes, she could manage to hide the fact that she was high off her pills really well. Other days, she couldn’t. This was either a good day for her acting skills, or she was actually sober.
She bit her lip, giving her that helpless look that always made me cave. “Parker called the other day and invited me.”
I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose. The sooner Parker realized that he was never going to have a solid relationship with our mother—that none of us would—the better.
“Is Sal here?” I asked through clenched teeth.
She vigorously shook her head. “No, he stayed home. I didn’t even tell him where I was going.”
I took a deep breath. “Still, Mom. It’s not a good idea for you to be here.”
Her expression told me she knew that. “I know. It’s just…he never invites me. And he barely even calls anymore. I never really got to see him play growing up.”
“And whose fault was that?” I blurted out before thinking, and immediately wished I’d kept my mouth shut. This wasn’t the time or place for a Cruz family reunion.
“Don’t start with me now,” she said, frustration in her tone. “I don’t want to hear it.”
I needed duct tape for my mouth. “What? You mean you don’t want to be reminded about how you allowed your husband to control you all these years? How you allowed your children to be punched and kicked around by that bastard? Is that what you don’t want to hear right now?”
Normally, I was the only one of us who could have a rational, calm conversation with our mom. Seeing as how I was the only one who could remember when she’d been an actual, loving mother, I knew the kind of good she had in her. I’d seen it. Out of the three of us, she and I had always had the best relationship—if you could call what we had a relationship.
But I couldn’t handle all my emotions around her today.
Not with Mickie nearby.
And not with this damn ring in my pocket.
My eyes flew down to her trembling hands. “How long have you gone without the pills?” I asked.
She averted her eyes. “Four days. I’m trying to stop, okay?”
And this was why I always caved.
Because I had these glimpses of her where she was actually trying to change and be better. Sandra Cruz had once been a young, vivacious woman from Texas who’d had her whole life ahead of her. She hadn’t always been like this.
Then she’d gotten pregnant with me.
And as fucked up as it was to say, it was probably the worst thing that had ever happened to her.
Yet another thing for me to feel guilty about.
I scrubbed my hand down my face. Things would not go well if she stayed. And they certainly wouldn’t go the way I wanted them to, today of all days.
“Look, I’m sorry. But you need to go.”
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Mickie’s voice suddenly asked from beside me.
I shot her a look that I was hoping said I love you, but I need you to walk away.
She was clearly ignoring it as she offered my mom a sweet smile and stuck out her hand. “I’m Mickie, Dawson’s girlfriend.”
My mom’s eyes darted to mine in shock before falling back on Mickie. She cautiously held out her hand and grinned.
I bit back a sigh and waved to her. “Mickie, this is my mother, Sandra Cruz.”
“So nice to meet you,” Mickie said.
I truly, honestly had never planned for these two to meet. Ever. Even if Mickie and I did get married. Not while Mom was still on her pills and spent the majority of her life high. And not while she was still living with and married to Sal.
I took Mickie’s arm and drew her away, despite her protests. “Go find our seats. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Why doesn’t she come sit with us? I’d like to talk—”
“No,” I snapped. “This isn’t something I want you involved in.”
Her lips thinned. “You mean your life? She’s your mother, for God’s sake, and I can’t even have a conversation with her? Seriously?”
“We’re not discussing this, Mickie. So, please just do what I ask.”
Oh, yeah. That had well and pissed her off. The last image I had of her face before she ripped herself out of my arms was of a scowl, the likes of which I’d never seen from her.
Great.
I’d be dealing with that later.
I turned back to my mom. She looked so small and broken, and I felt some of the ice around my heart thaw.
“If you want to stay and watch the game, fine. But stay out of sight, where Parker won’t spot you in the stands. And when the game’s over, don’t come find us. You can call him later and tell him you couldn’t make it. Believe me, it’s better this way.”
Better that he wasn’t encouraged.
All I ever wanted to do was protect my brothers. I wasn’t always able to physically do it when I was younger. So, I’d tried to make up for it in numerous emotional ways over the years.
And preventing them from seeing how far our mother had fallen was one of them.
Not that they hadn’t seen it for themselves. But it didn’t help to be reminded of it.
She gave a small nod. “I get it. I’ll stay away.”
I squeezed her bony shoulder. “I’m sorry. But you know what would solve all of this.”
Get the fuck away from Sal.
“Yeah, I know,” she said in a subdued voice.
Deep down, I knew that avenue was pointless to travel down. Sal would have to die before she would ever be separated from him.
She waved in the direction behind me. “You should go join your girlfriend. The game’s about to start.” She walked off before I could even respond.
My mood now as murky as swamp water, I made my way to our seats, where Mickie sat with both arms and legs crossed. The international sign for “don’t mess with me.” Her head snapped around when I sat down. I could see a haughty response was on the tip of her tongue, and I couldn’t face that conversation.
“Don’t,” I grated out.
Her mouth clamped shut, and she scooted farther away from me in her chair.
Now, I felt like a giant asshole.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
The plan was not going well so far.