Run (18 page)

“It was nice meeting you. I’ve heard about you, but never knew what you looked like. You have his eyes. There’s no denying you’re his,” he said, laughing nervously. It was as awkward for him as it was for me.

“He only drinks on Thursdays. He works so much he really never has a moment’s rest. And then there’s the little ones on the weekends. That takes a toll on him, too.”

“Little ones?” I asked, unable to hold back my curiosity any longer. “And how old are you?”

“Pops has five kids, well, including you that makes six. I’m nineteen. The only thing I ever knew about you was we were born six months apart,” he explained. He tugged Mason straighter as we continued down the sidewalk to the motel. Mason was in and out of consciousness.

“I never knew that,” I admitted.

“There’s me, Conner, Seth, Abby Gale and Quincy. Twelve-year-old twins, seven-year-old girl and a five-year-old boy. And he means well, I know it wasn’t that way with you, but he means well,” Asher insisted.

We stopped in front of Motel 7 and Asher opened the door. I wish it would just be over already—it was all too much meeting my father and a brother I didn’t know I had.

I handed the key to Asher. My father leaned against the motel. “Can we talk?”

“What could you possibly have to say to me?” I asked, stepping back.

He straightened up and pulled out another cigarette. He offered me one, but I declined.

“I’m your old man. I have plenty to say to you,” he said, lighting up.

“Probably nothing I want to hear,” I said.

“How have you been? How’s life?”

I held back the tears. I never expected a question to hurt so much, but this was like a knife to my heart.

“Really?” I balled my fists. “That’s what I get after nearly twenty years?”

“I was a dumb kid messed up on drugs. I barely knew your momma. She was always coming down to my house to eat supper. I thought she was pretty. I was a boy with a hard-on, what can I say?”

There was so much to be said, like why?

“Nothing.” I turned to leave.

“You have family here, Kendall—a family you could be a part of. And I’m sorry for whatever it was you went through. But I honestly wouldn’t have made it better back then,” he said, and then fell silent.

I turned back around looking at him. “Do you know she always said I had the eyes of a demon, just like my father?” I waited for him to say something.

But he didn’t.

“Do you know that I barely knew her? I knew nothing about either of my parents. Because my fucked up Aunt Wanda was the one raising me pretty much my whole life, if you even want to call it that.”

Leon shook his head in disbelief like something had suddenly been revealed to him.

I stepped forward. “So I’ll answer your question on whether or not you could have made my life better. I doubt you want to know after everything I’ve been through. Apparently you’re not that same man now—your son defends you. Who defended me?”

He nodded his head. “No, I want to hear it. I want to hear anything you have to say.”

I sucked in a breath. “Anything would have been better than Wanda.” I shoved him into the brick wall behind him with everything I had in me. He stumbled and nearly fell.

After he collected himself, he said, “My Gran once told me you can’t make up for what’s lost. You can only make up for what’s right in front of you. I’m not the best guy in the world, but I am your dad and I could try now that you’re right in front of me,” he said.

I closed my eyes, shaking my head in disbelief. “I don’t want anything from you.” I opened my eyes, tears falling. “I look in the mirror every day and see you staring back at me. That’s enough for me.”

I headed inside our room leaving him alone on the sidewalk, just like he’d left me.

Another day was coming to an end. We had survived a few days in Gusby. We stayed far away from our small town resorting to hiding out in an old barn at the end of town. It wasn’t the best accommodations, but it was the only choice we had with no money.

Mason tended to his hangover in the only way he knew how—by drinking more. We couldn’t afford a room, but we had enough for some cheap booze. As I sat in the corner of the barn on a bale of hay I couldn’t stop myself from glaring at him.

“What?” he asked, sipping the last of his booze. He was more alert than he had been the night before—the night I saw my father.

“So this is it?” I asked. I was tired and starting to feel like I was coming down with something.

“Is
what
it, Kendall?” he asked me with that annoyed tone to his voice that seemed to be the norm for him lately. He sat down settling into the ground, his hands behind his head for support.

“We’re just going to sit here and wait for the other shoe to drop?” I asked. It seemed like our lives had been put on pause and we were waiting for the rest of the world to catch up.

I had nobody else but Mason and I was beginning to wonder if he even cared anymore. It didn’t feel like it.

“I’m thinking. I’ve been thinking for days. I don’t know what to do. I’m not going to lie and say that I do when I don’t,” he said, his expression was blank.

If Mason was giving up, there really was no hope. I couldn’t understand what happened to the cocky Mason from Virginia. He would have refused to go down without a fight. But then he just left. Without him, we were doomed.

I started chewing on my nails. “Why do you think nobody here knows about us?” I hadn’t seen a single thing—no newspaper articles, no reports on the news—nothing.

“Gusby barely has cell phones or the internet. This shit hole is so behind they probably don’t even know who the president is,” he said.

He turned his head and spit as I got up and headed toward the barn door.

Mason yelled at me as I walked out of the barn. He had no idea where I was going so it didn’t take long for him to be hot on my heels to find out.

I knew I’d regret a lot of things in my life, but there was something I
had
to do. I would probably hate every minute of it, but I was going to go see my mother.

“Are you kidding me?” Mason asked, trying to stop me from heading down the street my mom lived on. Give or take a few houses that had been modernized, everything on Jasper Way looked much the same as I remembered.

I didn’t have a single happy memory here. Most of my memories consisted of drunken fights, squealing tires, and a parade of men coming in and out of the house like a revolving door. 

When my childhood home
was
mentioned, Aunt Wanda was usually in a drunken rage and went on about how horrible my mother was. She was always horrible in Aunt Wanda’s eyes.

“What do I have to lose?” I asked. The old house came into view with every step closer. It showed signs of improvement—no more peeling paint and all the windows were intact. The house number was hanging in place—not crooked or missing a number. Even the steps were new. It looked like a whole new place.

I wiped my sweaty palms on the front of my t-shirt as I studied the house. I felt slightly sick as I came to a stop in front of the gate. I looked down at the ground, where green grass had replaced the blanket of dirt scattered with rocks.

I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath.

Was I really standing outside the gate of my childhood home?

Was I insane to think that I could really come back?

“Kendall, what’s there to figure out? Your mom might be standing in there right now on the other side of that door,” Mason warned me. He knew at one time the mere mention of my mother would send me running for the hills. She was never someone I wanted to talk about, let alone see in person.

Mason’s face was pale. He looked close to grabbing me and running for it.

“Who are you?” a tiny voice called out. Mason and I looked at each other confused. We knew it was the voice of a child, but we couldn’t see anyone. Then a small, brown haired girl slid out from underneath the porch.

Her long braids danced side to side as she made it to her feet. She stared up at us with big blue eyes and round cheeks. She was cute.

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and pulled eyeglasses from her shirt pocket. She shoved them on and used her pointer finger to slide them up her nose.

“I said who
are you
,” she demanded.

Mason kneeled down, getting on her level. “How old are you?” he asked, avoiding her question and plying her with one of his own.

“Can’t you see I’m five?” She was not amused by him or the smell of cheap booze on his breath. She dramatically waved her hand in front of her face, scrunching her nose in disgust.

“You’re very small for five. When I was your age I was two heads taller,” he said.

“If I had a giant fro like yours I’d probly be taller too,” she said, letting out an accomplished giggle. She clutched at her belly and fell in an exaggerated fit of laughter.

I couldn’t help but laugh. The girl’s unintentional rudeness and the look on Mason’s face in response was priceless.

I wondered if my mother was inside and what she was doing or thinking at this moment.

“So, who are you?” she asked, jumping back up. She tipped her head back getting a really good look at Mason and me.

“I’m Mason. I used to live around here long before you even existed.  Way before you was annoying the shit out of your mother,” he said, looking up at the house.

I slapped him in the arm. “That was rude.”

The little girl removed her glasses and shoved them back in her pocket. She gave Mason a once-over, then spit on his leg before taking off in a flash and slipping back under the porch.

Mason cursed and grumbled in irritation, wiping at his leg. “It’s not even funny, Kendall. What kind of kid does that? That’s no kid, that’s the spawn of Satan.”

This only made me laugh even harder. Mason glared at me as I covered my mouth trying to stifle the laughter.

A familiar screech filled the air. Mason and I immediately looked at the front door. We both knew that sound all too well. The door still screamed in pain just like when we were kids.

I looked away as fear took over. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. Little by little I forced myself to take her in. First the black strappy sandals, with perfectly polished red toenails. She was wearing a pair of black dress pants and a red blouse that clung to her tiny waist.

I bit my lip as I took it all in—my eyes fixed on her face.  It was my mother. I was overcome with emotion. She looked the same as I remembered her; only now, it looked like she took better care of herself.

“Hi there,” she said when she saw us.  “Have either of you seen a little bitty girl with pigtails?”

She started down the steps.

“She’s under the porch,” Mason spoke up. He was stunned at seeing my mother after all these years.

“Dixie Jean!” she yelled, getting down on all fours. “What did I tell you about crawling under there?”

The little girl came out quickly at the sound of her voice. She latched on to my mother, holding tight to her as she stood back up.

“Thank you,” she said smiling at the two of us.

“No problem,” Mason said.

I felt like the life was being sucked out of me. I tried to form words, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Momma, if I promise to never go down there again can I have some cookies?” Little Dixie asked, playing with her hair.

This was my sister. My mother had another kid.

“Of course, now off into the house. I’m sure there’s a reason these two are standing out here. Shoo,” she said, hurrying her off.

Dixie stopped on the stairs looking back at us. She nodded her head, a big smile on her face.

“He said his name is Mason. He said he used to live around here. And I spit on him because he said I was annoying,” Dixie said. She let out a giggle and ran inside.

I looked at my mother. Her expression shifted from pleasant to total confusion. She studied Mason closely. Her eyes widened and she brought her hands to her mouth as realization sunk in. She instantly looked at me next.

Mason grabbed me by the arm, sensing my hesitation. My legs felt like rubber.

She stepped closer to me. “Kendall?” All the color drained from her face and she screamed before dropping at my feet and covering her face with trembling hands.

Mason held on to me. Neither one of us knew what to do and I was in a daze. Alarmed by my mother’s scream, the neighbors came to their doors to see what was going on.

Little Dixie ran down the stairs to our mother to see what was wrong with her.

She looked back up at me, tears mixed with mascara streaming down her face.

There were no words to describe her reaction. It wasn’t what I expected.

She was hysterically sobbing at my feet.

“Say something,” Mason whispered, jabbing me in the side.

I couldn’t speak. I was dumbfounded.

“Joy-Ann?” Mason started with.

She nodded getting back on her feet. Dixie climbed the stairs and took a seat. She was crying, too. The poor child was confused and scared for her mom. I watched her as she wiped away her tears. She reminded me of myself at her age.

By some miracle, my legs worked well enough to make my way to Dixie. I took her hand and sat down beside her.

“Don’t be scared. I’m sorry for upsetting your momma. I promise everything is okay,” I reassured her as I looked into her big blue eyes.

“I don’t like when she cries,” Dixie told me huffing in misery as the tears flowed. Her tiny body shook as she tried to get the words out.

“That’s very sweet. You sound like a very caring daughter. And I love your name.” I fixed her glasses for her.

“I am all the time,” she agreed.

“Momma’s okay, Dixie,” my mother said standing in front of us now. She wiped at her eyes cleaning herself up for Dixie. Her hair brushed against my shoulder as she kissed the top of Dixie’s head.

“Everything all right?” a man asked in the doorway. He looked like he had just woken up from a nap.

“Everything is fine. Take Dixie inside and give her some cookies please,” she told him. He was in his forties, well groomed and didn’t look drunk or high. He looked like a perfectly normal man.

“I can’t believe I’m looking at you,” she told me taking a seat next to me on the steps.

“She’s grown, huh?” Mason said with a smile. “In my opinion she’s beautiful. More so than when we were just two scrappy kids.”

Momma laughed through her tears. Nodding her head in agreement. She touched my hair, turning me to look at her.

“You really are beautiful,” she said with a sigh. “Where’s Wanda?”

I wasn’t shocked she would ask that. Wanda had run off with her kid.

I just wasn’t sure how to answer.

“Wanda’s far away from
here
that’s for sure,” Mason said.

Momma looked off. It was easy to see something was bothering her.

“She would be so lucky to be so far away,” she said.