Hawk
My shoulders burn, and my ass is numb. Seven hundred sixty-one miles and ten hours have come and gone. I slept like shit last night after Bianca told me. It took everything in me not to hop in my truck and head west the moment I told Sin what I was planning–but I waited. I gave myself an entire day to get in the right mind frame of what I might see when I get there. It’s not going to be a happy reunion between mother and son. I have a lot of warranted anger when it comes to that woman. I know I told Bianca that I didn’t give a shit about what Rose was going through. I was lying to myself, I cared. It isn’t just about Rose, either and I think that’s the real reason why Bianca told me. It was because of who gave her the information.
Tessa.
The smog-filled air of Los Angeles makes the sunrise more hazy than bright. The morning is supposed to represent a new day. The start of something fresh, but the dinginess of the sky doesn’t say new any more than it gives me any promises that today is going to be a good day.
I pull off the Ten freeway, I steer my truck down the multilane streets. The buildings are tall, made of brick and concrete, and the early morning chaos seems to be in full force as large delivery trucks unload their shipments. The constant blaring of horns signal the impatience of the morning commuters. I’ve only been in the city for a short time, and I can already see how much different it is than Las Cruces. The sidewalks are full of business suit-clad men and women. Some are yapping away on their phones while others are holding their phones in front of their faces as they continue to rush down the street. My eyes snap to the rear-view mirror when I hear another car horn blare without stopping.
This city sucks.
I turn on my blinker and signal so I can make the next right. According to my GPS, the facility my mother is supposedly staying in should be five miles up the road. I slam on my brakes as a car cuts in front of me, making me lay on the horn. The liberating feeling I have when I hit my horn has me rethinking the commuters’ lack of patience. It’s such an asshole thing to do, and I’m kinda digging it.
The GPS tells me that I’ve reached my destination, and I start to regret the trip. Maybe I don’t need to see her. She never made it a point in over twenty years to see me. My father may not have told me if she tried, but I hope that Bianca would have. She, more than anyone else, knows how my mother’s leaving has affected me.
A sizable tan marquee comes into view as I pass yet another tall building. The rehabilitation complex is smaller than the buildings surrounding it. One story compared to the skyscrapers that also occupy this block of businesses. I pass the building and pull into the parking lot, finding the first spot and park.
Cutting the engine, I lean my head back against the headrest. I have no idea what to expect, and that unnerves me. Growing up the way I did, it’s hard for me to go into any situation blind. I was taught to never enter anything that’s uncertain without making it certain. And that’s precisely what I’m doing–going in blind. I should’ve had Dyke do some digging so I could be prepared. Does my mom have loved ones surrounding her? Will she recognize who I am? Will it bother me if she doesn’t? This feeling of nervousness is unfamiliar and unsettling. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I grab the handle and shove my shoulder into the door, opening it. I lean over the driver’s seat and grab my cut from the passenger side. Once the leather is secured over my shoulders, I feel complete.
Time to see mommy dearest.