I don’t bother telling her that I tried reaching out to him or that Mark didn’t respond to me…until now. Now when it’s too late.
“Grown a pair of balls, that’s what I would have done. God, Ryan, you are an asshole. Your brother is gay and you toss him out of your life because you’re too much of a pansy to stand up to your father.”
I pull into the strip mall and park in the back of the lot. This place is a shithole. Down by the Laundromat, a guy in a wife-beater screams at a girl with bleached-blond hair holding a diaper-clad baby on her hip. Guys my age smoke cigarettes while purposely
skateboarding into girls coming in and out of the stores. Someone needs to teach them respect.
Beth hops out of the Jeep. Her hair blows in the breeze behind her as she strides toward the shopping center. Why is this girl always walking away from me? I jump out after her, catch her hand, and turn her to face me. I thought I pissed Beth off by nominating her to homecoming court. The fire blazing out of her HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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eyes tells me this anger is on a completely different level. She needs to hear me out and understand my dad—to understand my family.
“Mark abandoned us.”
“Bullshit. You abandoned him.” She rams a finger into my chest. “You and me. We’re a mistake. You’re a leaver. My father left me, Saint Scott left me, and I will never be left again.”
Yet Beth is the one who leaves. She retreats to the shopping plaza and disappears into the grocery store. She told me on the way into Louisville to drop her off and come back for her later. I never intended to let Beth walk away, but her words rock me. Is she right? Did I abandon Mark?
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Beth
I CUT IN THE SUPERMARKET, duck back out, and beeline it for the Last Stop, avoiding the group of skateboarders. I’m careful, guarding Echo’s money that burns the back pocket of my jeans.
More pickpockets hang here than people with high school diplomas.
Denny slaps his hand on the counter when I step into the bar. “Get out, kid.”
Pool balls click against each other as a guy in jeans and a leather vest plays solo. Two older men in blue factory uniforms slouch over beers at the bar. My heart drains of any shred of hope I had gained in Groveton when I see the blond-haired mess at the table in the corner.
Holding myself proud, I glide to the bar.
“Whatever Isaiah is paying you, I’ll pay you double to keep your mouth shut.”
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he gave me concerning you. Go play with
your boyfriend and stay out of my bar.”
“Isaiah isn’t my boyfriend.”
Wearing a smart-ass smile, Denny grabs a
wet shot glass out of a tub and dries it with a towel. “Have you told him that?”
When I say nothing back, Denny gestures to Mom. “She’s been crying today. Trent was arrested by the cops last night for drunk driving and they impounded her car. Get her out and spend some time with her.”
Yay and damn. Without Isaiah on board, I
need a car and Mom’s piece of crap is our only way out of Louisville. On the rare good side, I don’t have to worry about Trent beating the shit out of either one of us today.
“Next time you come into my bar, I’m
calling Isaiah to drag you back out,” Denny says. “Even if she’s crying.”
Next to a half-empty bottle of tequila,
Mom’s head lies in her folded arms. She’s thinner. The rush of emotions creates a light-headed sensation. This poor, pathetic creature is my mom and I’ve completely failed her.
“Let’s go, Mom.”
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face. Several of the strands fall to the floor and stick to my hand. God, has she eaten at all?
Yellow-and-brown patches litter the left side of her face. On her right wrist, Mom wears a black brace. I nudge her with a tender touch.
“Mom, it’s Elisabeth.”
Her eyelids flutter open and her hollow blue eyes have a sunken quality. “Baby?”
“It’s me. Let’s go home.”
Mom reaches out as if I’m a ghost. Her
fingertips barely brush my leg before her arm drops to her side. “Are you a dream?”
“When was the last time you ate?”
With her head still on her arms, she surveys me. “You used to buy food for me and make it, didn’t you? Ham and cheese on white with mustard tucked in the fridge. That was you.”
My insides wither like a plant without water.
Who did she think took care of her? I close my eyes and search for my perspective. Being at Scott’s has made me soft. I need to be more aware for both me and Mom. “Let’s go.”
I place an arm around her shoulder blades and yank at her body. “Come on. You need to stand. I can’t drag you home.”
“I hate it when you yell, Elisabeth.”
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“I didn’t yell.” But I’m being a bitch.
Like most toddlers, Mom obeys a strong
reprimand. Also like most toddlers, she often obeys the wrong person.