Home > Reformation(45)

Reformation(45)
Author: Chelle Sloan

Good riddance, if you ask me.

“Well, whatever happened, I’m glad he’s here. We would be here until well past midnight without him.”

Luckily, it was a beautiful day, so we could hold registration outside before patients went in to see either Garrett or Trevor. And right now, the line is out the door.

I try and count how many are still in line, and when I make it to the end, I have to do a double take. Standing next to the building, bringing a cigarette to her mouth, is a person I haven’t seen in more than a decade.

Mama.

“Can you both watch the table for me? I have to go check on something.”

Without waiting for their answer, I make my way over to the woman I had hoped I would never see again, my anger rising with every step I take toward her.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why, Josephine, is that any way to talk to your mama?”

The woman standing in front of me is a shell of the woman I used to know as my mother. Her blonde hair, which used to be the same color as mine, is now gray and straggly. Her clothes are dirty, and I could smell her six feet away. If she weighs one hundred pounds, I’d be shocked.

She looks horrible. If it was anyone else, I would feel sorry for them. I’d offer them food and help and try to get them into a rehab center.

Then I remember that I might not know why this woman is here, but it’s definitely not for my help.

“How did you find me?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

“Does your new boyfriend know that you’re a drug dealer? It seems pretty risky to date someone like you when you’re a fancy doctor. Did I see him driving a BMW?”

I take her arm and drag her around to the side of the building, away from any prying eyes. “I’m going to ask this again. How did you find me?”

She steps on her cigarette and immediately lights another. “I always knew you were in Virginia. I remembered you getting all those fancy letters when you were in high school. Really, Josephine, you aren’t as smart as you think you are. Not as sneaky either. And that elementary school of yours is way too giving of information.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fine. You found me. Good detective skills, Mama. What I want to know is, after twelve years, when you told me specifically to get out because I turned in your drug-dealer boyfriend and cut off your supply, why have you decided that now is the time to barge into my life?”

She doesn’t say anything for a minute, and I don’t know whether to be concerned or hopeful about it. “I got evicted from the house.”

“Honestly surprised you lasted that long. Mr. Meyers finally stop taking sex as payment?”

“You watch your mouth, girl.”

“Or what? You gonna hit me? I’m not a kid anymore, and you are no longer my concern. I spent way too many years doing that, Mama. And I quit worrying about you the second I got the hell out of Alabama.”

She starts itching her arm. I knew it. She’s still using. Even more of a reason to get her away from here.

“You really not going to give me anything?”

“Why should I? What have you ever done for me?”

“I’m your mother. I deserve it.”

I want to ask if she’s serious, but by the look on her face, she absolutely is. Unbelievable.

“You deserve it? You were a druggie mother who brought a man into our lives who nearly ruined mine. And he nearly killed you. Yes, Mama. Let’s lean on that one.”

I expect her to slap me. I expect her to come back with another attempt at getting me down. Instead, she reaches for her phone, puts the cigarette in her mouth so she can unlock the screen.

“What are you doing?”

She doesn’t say anything, instead shows me a picture on her phone. Then another. And another.

The photos are of all the people in my life here in Virginia. One is of me and Cassie and Anthony leaving school last week. Another is of me and Garrett going to the charity event at the Robinsons. There’s one of Cullen and Makenna with Charlie and Mark as they waved goodbye to me after I went over for dinner.

These are my people. Everyone in this world I love.

“Why do you have these?

“Because, Josephine, you think these people are your family now? You think they love you? They don’t. No. I’m your family. And you’re going to help me.”

As much as I hate it, her words sting and I feel the tears begin to threaten. No. I’m not going to cry in front of this woman. I take a deep breath and force them back. “I will ask again. What. Do. You. Want?”

“Money. And pills. I’m sure your doctor can help out with that. Work on it. Or else. Goodbye, Josephine.”

She throws the second cigarette on the ground and gives it a stomp before walking away. I just stand there, still shocked from her appearance, and watch her disappear down the road. She gets into the passenger side of a car, though it’s too far for me to get the license plate. Or to see who is driving.

“Hey, Angel. I’ve been looking for you.”

I give myself a quick shake as Garrett approaches. “Hey there. All finished?”

“Yeah. We’re getting ready to pack up. You OK? And why do I smell smoke?”

I know I should tell him. I need to tell him. She just threatened not only me, but everyone I care about, including Garrett and his family.

I need a minute. I need to regroup.

“I caught someone smoking back here and asked them to put it out. No worries.”

But there is a worry. A big worry.

Because I have a feeling there is a lot more that’s coming as to why Naomi Blackstone has popped back up in my life… and it’s more than just a few bucks and some pills.

 

 

Chapter Thirty-Six

 

 

Garrett

 

 

“I was thinking we could just get takeout tonight. Maybe Chinese?”

“Sure.”

I look over to Paige who is wiping down her kitchen counter for the twentieth time since we got back from the free physical day. I’m pretty sure she has no idea what I said.

“Is Chinese OK?”

“Uh-huh.”

I stand up from where I unceremoniously plopped down on the couch a half hour ago, dead tired from the day. “Maybe after Chinese you can rub my feet in nothing except your bra and panties and tell me that I’m the king of your pussy.”

“That’s fine.”

OK, now I know she’s not listening. My girl hates, among anything else in this world, feet. I found this out once when I tried to wiggle my toes in front of her face as a joke to get her to rub them. I was sure she was going to break up with me that night.

I snap my finger in front of her face, hoping to snap her out of her daze.

“What? Yeah. Everything sounds good,” she says in a rush.

“No, Angel. Everything is not good. You just agreed to give me a foot massage tonight.”

Her face nearly turns green at the thought. “I did?”

I hold out my hand for her to follow me back to her living room, where I sit down and immediately bring her to my lap. Since we left the clinic she’s been distant. Usually, after a day like today, she’d be bursting at the seams with excitement for how well the day went. She’d be planning and wondering how many other services I could offer that could give back the way we were able to today.

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