“You didn’t do anything wrong.” I shake my head, my eyes shut, unable to look him in the eye.
“Didn’t I? I failed her. I made a vow to protect her, and I broke it. Because of me, she feels dirty. Violated all over again.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Then whose fault was it?”
Mine.
After a tense, pregnant pause, he takes a step back, giving me some much-needed space.
“That’s all in the past now. She’ll be happy again here in New York.”
Doubtful.
“What about you? Are you going to stay here, too?”
“Yes,” he mumbles. “I know that I shouldn’t. Business-wise, I should move back home to Asheville, but everything reminds me of what I lost. I’d be suffocating there. At least here I can feel closer to her. To you. If you let me.”
“Careful, Dick, you sound like you have a heart.” I try to joke, my lame-ass way of lightening the tense air around us.
“Both you and I know that isn’t true. Your mother was my heart. She’ll always be my heart. Without her, I have none.” The truth in his words stabs into my own black heart.
“I’ll have a look at this,” I say noncommittally, holding the envelope up, uncomfortable with his vulnerability.
Or mine.
“Sure, son,” he replies with that sad smile still lingering on his face.
I turn around, frantic to escape the intense feelings in the room when he calls out to me.
“Easton?”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe we can have dinner some night this week? You pick the place,” he asks, hope replacing his sorrow.
“Why?” I stutter.
“Can’t a father share a meal with his kid?” He shrugs.
I nod, my emotions wreaking havoc on me.
“I’ll call you,” I reply and rush out of his office like someone set a fire to my ass. Only when the elevator doors close and I’m almost at the ground floor do I begin to breathe.
I walk aimlessly around the city, Dick’s words still ringing in my ears. Not until the moon is high in the sky do I realize I spent the whole day walking, trapped in my turbulent thoughts. When I get into our humble apartment, the first thing I notice is how quiet it is. I go in search of my mother, only to find her bedroom door closed, muffled sobs coming from inside.
They’re both suffering so fucking much.
Listening to my mother’s soft wails tears my heart in two, but seeing Richard so heartbroken this morning also did a number on me. Unable to stand the cloud of misery shadowing my family, I go to my room and lock myself in it. As I lie on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, I try to pinpoint where our lives all got so fucked-up.
When we became murderers. That’s when, you stupid fuck.
A ping on my phone brings me back from my self-loathing reverie. It must be Richard trying to set up his dinner. But to my own broken heart’s chagrin, I see another text from Scarlett.
I miss you. Please come home, Easton. I love you.
I bite down on my knuckles just to stifle the agonized scream trying to escape my chest. I scroll past her text to avoid facing it, and see many others from Finn, Lincoln, Kennedy, Stone, and even heartless Colt. They all sent texts to see how I am and ask when I’ll be coming home.
Even if I try to deny it, I understand my parents’ suffering. I’ve been suffocating on mine for longer than I want to admit. New York might have been my home once, but not anymore. Not when my family lives somewhere else. I left three brothers and two sisters in Asheville who would throw down for me. But most importantly, I left Scarlett—my fucking heart.
You also left The Society.
Did I, though? Why do I have the feeling this was exactly the punishment they had in mind for me all along? I mean, look at this place. I look around my shabby room and cringe at its resemblance to a crack den. Not to mention that I caught my mother circling cleaning jobs in the newspaper the other day when she thought I wasn’t looking. I can’t let her do that. Dick will never allow it either, no matter how much she insists on not taking a dime from him. But then again, she was never with my stepdad for the money. She was with him because he understood her. Loved her. Mom had been dealt a shitty life before he came along, and now, because of one sex tape, she was going to throw it all away.
Fuck that!
I’ve got to fix this. It’s my fault the people I love most are in this mess, and somehow, someway, I’m going to fix it.
Unable to endure another day without hearing her sweet voice, I call Scarlett. I’m desperate to be close to her in any way I can, just to see a flicker of light beyond the dark tunnel that is my life.
“Hello?” she answers, but I don’t say a word.
I bite my knuckles again when she starts softly crying on the other line.
“East?” she whispers.
I still don’t say anything. If I do, I’ll probably end up booking the next flight out of this place and back into her arms from where I should have never left.
“Come home, East. Please. Just come home.”
I’m working on it, baby.
The line goes quiet, and all we do is listen to each other breathe.
I lie back down on the bed and close my eyes, imagining she’s right here next to me. Just as I almost can smell the scent of cherry blossoms in the room, Scarlett begins to sing to me.
And I do something I haven’t done since I left her—I cry.
The next day I wake up with a new resolve pumping inside my chest. I get up from the bed and rush to my mother’s bedroom with only one goal in mind. I knock on the door and call out to her, “Mom?”
“Come in, honey,” she mumbles.
When I open the door, my mother tries to conceal the evidence of her crying by frantically cleaning away her tears, making a valiant effort to put a smile on her face.
Yeah, this shit ends today.
“I was thinking about what you said yesterday morning, and I thought, why wait for Thanksgiving? How about we go out to dinner tonight? Get some fresh air and whatnot.”
“Of course, East. Whatever you want, sweetheart.” She smiles.
That’s my mom for you. She will swallow up all the pain in the world, just to make sure I’m happy. It’s my turn to bring her some motherfucking happiness.
“I have to run some errands, but how about we meet up around eight at Dino’s?”
“Oh, my gosh, I haven’t thought about that restaurant in years.” She laughs meekly.
That’s because it was a dump and nothing to write home about, but back in the day, it was also the nicest restaurant we could afford. Still, I don’t remind her that eating there is a sure way to get food poisoning.
“I thought you’d get a kick out of it. Okay, I have to bounce, but I’ll see you there at eight, okay, Mom?”
I close the distance between us and kiss her cheek. Before I leave her, I look over my shoulder and see her excitement for going out to dinner with me, even if in the worst Italian restaurant Queens has to offer. The minute I’m out of the house, I send a text to my other dinner date.