Looking back to her, I cross my arms over my chest. Daring her to even make a move or look at him. No way in all that’s holy will I let her talk to him or, for that matter, come within fifty feet. Not here, not on this day, not during this time, and if I have anything to do with it, not ever. Kathy shakes her head and scoffs, whispering some deserved insults before going after Trey. She lets me have the floor, knowing damn well I’m ready for it.
“I imagined all the things I’d say to you if I ever got the chance to meet you and none of them are nice. I imagined language and name calling, but now that I see you, you aren’t worth the breath. So, I’ll leave you with this”—I get close enough to touch her, but keep my hands to myself—”he’s been through hell in his lifetime and that all started the day you left. I won’t see him hurt again, so I’m saying this one time—stay the hell away from him.” My voice is calm, so calm I even fear my warning. I step back and turn to leave.
“You must be his flavor of the week.” I stop in my tracks, turning my head slightly.
“I’m gonna let that slide, because I need to go be with Trey, just like I have been for the past fourteen years,” I throw back in her face.
“That’s my son, you can’t keep me away from him.”
I turn back and give her the best resting bitch face I can. “I can’t keep you away from him, but you’ve abandoned him once, so leaving people alone is in your nature.” I walk to the car, leaving her stunned, serves the bitch right. I get to the car and climb into the driver’s seat, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart. I’m so damn pissed I could punch straight through concrete.
Buckling my seatbelt I look up at Trey, his hand is messing with his lip as he looks out the window. I decide to stay quiet and start the car to leave. If he wants to talk about what happened back there, he will. For now, I need to get him through the burial and then home and make sure he’s taken care of. Everyone piles in the car and we head toward the graveyard. The entire way there, I rack my brain with scenarios. Why the hell did she show up?
“HE’S OUT, THE SCOTCH KICKED in fast. I’ve never seen him drink that much before,” I say, entering the living room where Kingston and Lana are sitting on the couch.
“I don’t think it was the scotch, I think today was one of the biggest shitstorms I’ve ever seen, I can’t imagine what he’s feeling,” Kingston adds, making a valid point.
“What in the actual fuck happened today? I honestly felt like I was in the twilight zone when she walked up those steps like fucking Queen Elizabeth.” I throw myself on the opposite couch and grab a pillow, placing it on my chest and squeezing it like a stress ball.
“I know, I’m not sure that woman is mentally stable. How did she even know about Charles’s funeral?” Lana asks, moving to sit on the edge of the couch I’m on.
“I have no idea, L. No matter how crazy I think she is, I worry Trey will actually let her in, especially if he reads his dad’s letter.”
“What letter?” Lana asks, her brows furrowing in confusion. I instantly catch my mistake. I found a letter when I was cleaning out Pop’s office and have hid it from everyone, not sure if Trey is ready to read the words his dad left. Kathy showed me other things as well, videos he left for Trey, letters, pictures—a ton of keepsakes.
“Kathy and I were cleaning out his office the other day and we found this letter addressed to Trey. We thought it was old, so I opened it to see if we needed to toss it or what, and I read it. It was a letter to Trey that was written as if it were meant to be a final letter,” I tell them, and notice their faces glaze over in shock, making me feel even more guilty.
“Why haven’t you given it to him yet?” Kingston asks what I’ve already asked myself a dozen times this past week.
“I was going to give it to him, honestly, I was. He’s been so upset and the drinking has him out of it most the time,” I tell them truthfully. Drinking is becoming a common nightly routine like brushing his teeth.
“And, you guys, the things in that letter—they’re deep. I don’t think he’s ready to hear those yet,” I say, sitting up and putting my knees to my chest, holding myself. Where is the magic eight ball that will help me find out what to do?
“Why? Do you think that letter will make him forgive his mom?” Lana asks, rubbing my knee in soft strokes.
“His dad said to forgive his mom when he’s ready, if he’s ever given the chance to.”
“Oh,” both Lana and Kingston reply in unison.
“Yeah, but I don’t think he meant to forgive her in the sense of letting her come in like Captain Save-a-hoe and be his mommy again.”
“Well, sis, I’m going to say this, and this shit may not be what you want to hear but you need to,” Kings says, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees, his hands intertwining with each other. “She may have hurt him bad and you won’t find a ‘World’s Best Mom’ mug in her cabinet, but this is his choice and his journey to choose. All you can do is sit back and hold his hand through it all. Our boy is lost right now and you, my love, are the only one who can help him through it all.” He sits back and smirks, looking so proud that he just laid down some real buff tattooed wisdom. He’s right though, I can’t tell him what to do about his mom. I mean who knows, maybe she isn’t planning on sticking around, maybe she just wants to tell him why she did what she did, apologize, and then leave again. I’m not sure that would be any better though. God, this is such a sticky situation.
“Ugh, why are you always right?” I say, putting my face into the pillow and letting out a growl.
“Because I’m the big brother, it’s called wiser with age or some shit like that.”
“I’m going to give it to him now that everything has happened and Pops was laid to rest. It seems like the right time. Besides, he said some amazing things to Trey.”
“I think that’s wise, don’t hold back. Better now than later. Shit, I’m good with these little one-liners!” Kingston jokes, and we chuckle.
“You’re so poetic, handsome,” Lana says, and I see him wink at her and she bites her lip. Okay, time for me to go.
“Get a room, I’m going to bed.” Standing up, I throw the pillow at Kingston.
“Night, sis. Get some sleep; it’s back to reality tomorrow. Love you!” I don’t even look back; I just wave my hand in the air and sneak into the bedroom quietly.
I tiptoe across the wood floor and gently close the bathroom door behind me. Flipping on the light, I look at myself in the mirror. Oh, what a day this has been, actually, what a freaking week this has been, I look exhausted, but I know I won’t be able to sleep. Doing the next best thing to sleep, I decide on a bath. Sitting on the edge of the tub, I start the water and run my fingers under the faucet, checking the temperature. When it’s just right, I plug it and stand to undress. Walking back to the sink, I catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror. Holy shit, I swear I’ve been eating, but I’ve lost at least six pounds. I run my hand over my stomach, looking it over with special attention.