“Don’t you dare call me that.” The woman held up her finger, stern as a sword and just as sharp. “I ceased to be your mother the moment you killed Scott and Kade!”
My heart opened a suitcase and threw everything painful inside. Knowing Elder was a murderer—watching him commit murder—didn’t prepare me for that horrendous piece of memory lane.
His mother sniffed with her chin high. “Or are you forgetting your little brother and father? Both who loved you. Both who died because of what you did!”
Elder crumpled, bowing his head. “How could I? I could never forget, Okaasan.”
“You don’t get to call me that anymore!” She stormed to the wardrobe and grabbed an armful of mismatched clothes. “You’re nothing to me!” With a withering stare, she stomped back into the bathroom and slammed the door.
It rattled in its hinges as if vibrating with an apology.
Elder exhaled heavily, but he didn’t turn to face me. He braced himself, never taking his eyes off the door.
We both knew the confrontation wasn’t over. She’d eventually have to return. More raised voices and awful declarations would happen.
I wanted to break into Elder’s pain and pull him from the house. I wanted to be brave and stand beside him in the next round.
But I did neither. I hadn’t earned the right to protect him, and I sure as hell hadn’t earned the right to fight beside him.
This was his war.
The room strained with tension, growing thicker and tighter as time inched forward. Finally, a few minutes later, his mother yanked open the bathroom door with murder in her gaze. “I don’t have anything else to say to you.”
Elder locked his spine, balling his hands. “Well, too bad. I have plenty to say to you.”
His mother snarled like a cornered cat. “Nothing you say will change anything. Never! You hear me?!” She no longer wore a towel but a black blouse with red cherry blossoms and pink slacks. With her almond eyes and exotic willowy frame, I saw where Elder got his looks. She was a perfect example of beauty that could come from mixed parents. Her features flirted with Eastern with the accents of European. While Elder looked more Western than her, hinting not only had her parents fallen in love with a mate of different cultures but so had his.
Staring at the irate parent, I couldn’t imagine her having a love affair and ever being happy. She looked pinched and broken and pissed at the entire world.
Who had she fallen in love with? How did he die?
Was Elder’s father English or American? Canadian or Finnish? Had his sibling been just as handsome with genes born from different borders or was I just enamoured with Elder?
“Move!” she commanded, trying to brush past Elder blocking the doorway. “I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?” Elder stepped away, dragging me with him to give his mother a clear path. “But you only just got here.”
“Wrong. You only just got here. I’ve been here a few days with Raymond. This was supposed to be a vacation.” She threw her hands up in the air as she stalked down the corridor, ignoring the pretty fountain view or plush, colourful carpet. “He didn’t tell me he’d somehow found a place that rents out to low-life’s like you.”
I winced for Elder even though he didn’t show any pain. He merely trailed after the angry woman, keeping his distance as she entered the kitchen and pulled out a filleting knife from a drawer.
She brandished it, half with commitment, half with shakes born from fighting with her son.
A son she despised. A son she would rather hurt than talk to.
Why?
What happened?
Why did she think Elder killed his father and brother?
Surely, he could never do such a thing?
After what he’d done for me? How kind and protective he was? It didn’t make sense.
“Okaasan, please. Can we talk?” Elder held up his hands in surrender. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Won’t hurt me?” She laughed manically. “You already hurt me more than you ever could.” Tears glittered in her black eyes. “You killed me. You made me a walking ghost with no family—”
“I’m your family.” He thumped his chest. “I’m still your flesh and blood.”
“You are not my family.” She spat into the sink. “You will never be my son.”
Elder pinched the bridge of his nose. I didn’t know if it was to fight back emotion at the sheer hate his mother had for him or to compose his temper that slowly rose to match hers. Watching them together showed me where he earned his volatile moods. His mother was hot blooded and cruel. Blind and deaf to hearing any other argument but her own.
But I had no right to judge.
Just because I didn’t know her didn’t mean she wasn’t right.
If Elder had done what she accused him of what did that mean? Could I believe he had the capacity to kill his own relations? What did that mean for me?