The fight I had with Victoria is the most pressing thing on my mind. I call her again, but the phone goes to voicemail. The words of apology get stuck in my throat and I end the call. The least she deserves is a FaceTime apology.
My knee is only part of the reason I don’t want her here right now. I’m also dealing with Isabel who’s frantic about Mia. Her father’s threatening to take her and move out of state.
Charlie is the other reason. He’s been calling and managed to find my new house. It’s in a very exclusive gated community, but it’s not far from the house he shares with Mama. He tried to come here a few times, and I’ve had to have security ask him to leave. That didn’t sit well with our mother, who has been given me the silent treatment for days now.
Vickie’s family, despite her parents being divorced, is one of the most functional I’ve ever been around. The bond she has with her brother and sister can make anyone jealous, especially me, who had a good relationship with his only sibling until things soured. I’ve told her some of it, but I don’t want her to witness this. At least not right now when I’m in pain and my career is filled with uncertainty.
I hobble to the kitchen table at the back of the house. It’s a spacious two-story house with cathedral ceilings. The back is filled with natural light from the wall of windows that takes up both floors.
I could have Kendall do this for me, but I need to find a bouquet of flowers that say ‘I’m sorry, I was a jerk.’
As I’m looking at different arrangements, I hear rushed footsteps coming down the back stairwell. Mama’s been staying here, hovering over me, and silently judging me for not having Vickie here with us.
“Everything okay, Mama?” I ask without looking up. The silent treatment is her preferred method of choice, so when she answers, I get alarmed.
“No, everything’s not okay.” She wrings her hands, and I notice she has her purse slung over her shoulder. “Rosalie called. She got a call from Bastian who was at The Watering Hole.” I finally look up at her. Bastian owns the bar in our old town. He’s a nosy old man who knows everything that goes on, and there’s only one reason why Mama would get a call about what was happening at The Watering Hole. “He’s fine.” She puts a hand to her chest. “Bastian wouldn’t serve him, and when he couldn’t get in touch with me, he called Rosalie. Charlie needs me, Colt. He’s hurtin’, and I know how you feel, and I understand, but I’m his mother, and I’m not goin’ to lose him to alcohol again. I knew I shouldn’t have left him alone this long.”
I stare at her while I let the words soak into my brain. For a split second, I want to remind her that she’s my mother too, and that I need her right now, but I’m not that selfish. I feel a twinge of guilt for not taking his calls and for sending him away. We’re not close anymore, but I don’t want him to resort to drinking again. Maybe if I had taken his calls things wouldn’t have gone this far. Then I remind myself that Charlie is a thirty-one-year-old man who has made his choices.
Mama starts to cry in the middle of the kitchen, and I have no choice but to walk to her and take her in my arms.
“You can’t drive like this,” I tell her. “Let me call Sampson.” She sniffles into my chest, and I feel my heart constrict at the thought of my mother being in pain. She’s a strong woman, but she’s gone through so much in her fifty-three years on this earth.
“Rosalie is bringing him here.” I freeze at her words before pulling away to look into her eyes. “Don’t worry,” she says, disappointed. She lowers her gaze as if she’s too ashamed to look at me any longer. “I’m going to drive us home.” She runs a hand through her disheveled hair. “I didn’t know what else to do. They were already on their way over here when she finally got a hold of me.” She leaves my arms and walks around, frantically looking for things.
The landline rings, and she grabs it before I can get to it. She tells whoever’s on the other line to let them through and practically runs out the front door, still holding a shoe in her hand. I step outside in time to see Rosalie’s Hyundai Sonata pull into my driveway. She was our neighbor when I was growing up, and she lost her husband only a few years after Mama. The loss brought them closer together. Unlike Mama who still looks youthful though, Rosalie looks tired and worn. Her long stringy dark hair is mixed with gray.
She waves at me, and the passenger door to her car opens. Charlie steps out, and I can tell right away that he’s sober. Despite his bloodshot eyes, he hasn’t had a drop to drink. If he had, there’s no way Rosalie would have been able to handle him long enough to drive him. I haven’t seen him since last December, and since then he looks like he’s lost weight. He looks gaunt and older than his thirty-one years.
“Hey, Colty.” He sounds like a little boy who’s about to be reprimanded. Mama stares at me, and when I don’t respond to him, her shoulders sag before she runs into his arms and bursts into tears.
“I’m sorry, Mama. I’m okay.” He kisses her forehead. “Please forgive me.” It’s like I’m floating above myself as I watch the scene. I’m unsure of what I’m supposed to do here. The only thing I know is that I’d rather be anywhere else.
Victoria. I need my Queen Vee, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got some groveling to do after our phone call today. I pull out my phone to call her, but another car pulls in behind Rosalie’s and Evan jumps out.
“Uncle Charlie!” He runs to my brother, and Charlie lets Mama go just in time for Evan to jump into his arms. “Did you and my dad make up? He let me go to baseball camp. I’m going to show you all my moves.” He kisses Charlie’s cheek and hugs him tight. A sob escapes Charlie, and he tightens his arms around Evan. “Come on. I’ll show you my room. Daddy, can I FaceTime Vincent so Uncle Charlie can talk to him?” He jumps from Charlie’s arms, runs to me, and snatches the phone from my hand. “Come on, Uncle Charlie.” Evan waves him inside the house but doesn’t wait for him to follow. Mama, Charlie, and Rosalie all stare at me. It’s like the three of them have stopped breathing while they wait to see what I’m going to do.
I can see the tears filling Mama’s eyes from here, and the last thing I want to do is cause her more pain. I hold the front door open and gesture for everyone to get in. “Give yourself a tour, Rosalie,” I tell her.
Mama squeezes my hand on her way in, but before Charlie can step over the threshold, I put a hand to his chest. “I don’t want you alone with Evan, and under no circumstances is he to get in a car with you. Ever.” He stares into my eyes and nods. I drop my hand, and he goes inside.
“I’m going to make a big dinner for everyone,” Mama announces. “Rosalie, I’ll show you around and then you can help me in the kitchen.”
Evan returns and he goes outside with Charlie. I watch through the sliding glass door as Evan holds my phone in Charlie’s face. After a few minutes, Evan puts the phone down and pitches the baseball to his uncle. Charlie helps him with his posture and demonstrates throwing. The two of them laugh the entire time. I finally step outside, grab my phone, and take a seat by the pool to watch. My phone buzzes, and it’s Robin. I ignore the call. I’ve had enough of her already when we met up for ice cream with the kids. She tried her best to touch me at every opportunity until I told her to stop. Even though nothing happened, I feel guilty, and all I want is the one woman I pushed away.
FORTY-ONE
“Queen Vee—”I delete it before I can hear anymore.
“Baby—” Delete.
“Vee, I’m sorry. The surgery is tomorrow, and I need—” Delete.
“I was a fool. Please come to Al—” I toss the phone away and zip my suitcase. I hate myself for even checking his voicemails, but he’s left those over the past two days.
I hate myself for the feelings stirring inside of me. They are beyond anger. Anger I can deal with. I’ve dealt with it before, but the hurt isn’t something I’m prepared for, which is why I’m leaving for Atlanta a week early. I have an early evening flight and my ride to the airport is due to arrive in under an hour. I won’t be calling Cynthia for any more rides. As far as I’m concerned, I’m done with her as my personal driver. He had the surgery this morning, and he should be in his private room or home by now.
The resentment resurfaces, and I stuff it down, refusing to give in to the pain. My mind flashes to the conversation I had with Tara last night, our last night together for at least a month.
