“You were always good at ignoring me,” I muttered, feeling the pressure build behind my eyes. If she didn’t take my warning, things were going to end badly for her.
“Samuel, I’ll be quick. I promise. Two minutes, that’s all I want,” she said, raising her eyebrows and waiting for me to respond.
“You have one minute.”
She spoke quickly. “I came here because it’s part of my rehab. To make amends with those I’ve wronged and I’ve wronged you the most.”
“No wonder I didn’t recognize you. You’re sober. Never seen that look on you before. And there is no need to make amends, there is only a need to get the fuck out. NOW.”
She dropped down another step but still didn’t leave. “Four years now. Four years, I’ve been sober.”
“Congratu-fuckinglations! Took you four fucking years to want to apologize for the shit mom you were?” I laughed and leaned over. “Apology not accepted.”
“I didn’t know what to say to you four years ago.”
“Oh, but you do now?” I asked. “This should be good. All right, let’s hear it,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and waiving for her to continue.
“I’m sorry, Samuel. I was an addict. Still am, ’cause it’s a sickness that never really goes away. I’ve made some bad choices and I hurt you. I’ll never forgive myself and I don’t expect you to either.”
“You hurt me? You make it sound like you ran over my bicycle.”
She took a deep breath, and I could tell she was trying to steady her nerves because her hands shook harder, along with her voice. “When I left I didn’t know where you were or where you went. I didn’t look for you. And for that, I’m sorry. I should have looked for you. I should have come back for you. I shouldn’t have left at all, but most of all, I shouldn’t have given up on you. I ignored you as if you weren’t there and I don’t expect you to want to have a relationship with me, but I thank you for letting me speak my peace. This is for you,” she said, taking a small piece of folded up paper from her pocket. She held it up for me to take and when I didn’t, she set it on the step by my feet and backed down the steps. When she reached the bottom, she turned around and her heel caught in the gravel. She fell sideways, catching the railing to right herself again. She straightened, adjusted her jacket, and was about to head back toward her awaiting car.
Suddenly, rage wasn’t even a word. I was beyond rage. I was beyond anger. I was something that existed in another fucking realm and this bitch was not getting away with her half-assed apology.
“Fuck that!” I said, leaping down the steps and stepping in front of her, cutting her off from the SUV. “If you’re going to apologize then you need to know what you should be apologizing for,” I said, feeling the fire flaring out of my nostrils as I spoke through gritted teeth. I could strangle her, shoot the motherfucker by the car, and burn them both in the fire pit in the backyard, and still be on time to make Dre dinner.
Possibilities.
“You don’t get to unburden your soul and walk the fuck away when I can’t ever have that same privilege because of you!” I yelled. “What the fuck do you think was going on while you were doing all that ignoring you’re so fucking good at, huh? You saw the bruises so I know that you know about the beatings, but what you don’t know is that while you were too busy forgetting you had a son, Tim didn’t forget. In fact, Tim was paying close attention to me. Very close.” I was right up in her face when I added, “He paid me so much attention that he knew how I like my dick jerked. He knew what made me come before I even knew.”
“Noooo,” she said, her eyes going wide, she tried to take a step back, but I closed the distance between us again. There was no way I was going to let her back away from what I had to say.
“So much attention that he knew how tight my asshole was,” I continued. She wrapped her arms around her stomach. “So much, that when he was too drunk to come, he blamed me then beat me until I passed out.”
“That’s not possible,” she whispered, her hand covering her mouth.
“It’s fucking possible and it fucking happened,” I spat. “Over and over again it happened, in the very next room, under the same fucking roof. It happened BECAUSE of you. Because you did nothing to stop it. Because you weren’t there or didn’t care. So you see, you didn’t just ignore me. You forgot you had a son and left me in the hands of a man who I’d wished forgot I was there.”
She shook her head in disbelief, and either she really didn’t believe me or she was processing the cement truck I’d just dropped on her head. Either way, it was her head shaking from side to side that pushed me over the edge I’d been teetering on. My vision became a blur and I couldn’t see beyond the hatred that was either blinding me or making me see clearer than I ever had before. I pulled my gun from the front of my pants and pushed the barrel to her forehead. She dropped to her knees.
“Son, wait!” the man in the blazer called out, jogging up to us. I cocked the gun and he stopped in his tracks.
“Son?” I asked with a laugh. I looked down to my mother who was whimpering. “You might really want to rethink your choice of words there, motherfucker. ’Cause Mama and me aren’t exactly having the friendliest of family reunions, so that word makes me a little twitchy.” I tapped the trigger to show him what I meant and Mitch stopped behind my mother, raising his arms in surrender.
“Put your god damned hands down, man,” I spat. “I’m not robbing! I’m killing, don’t get it twisted.”
“Please. No!” Mitch pled.
“Fuck off,” I told Mitch. I looked down at the woman before me on her knees, her white pants dirtied by the driveway, and all I wanted was for her to feel what I felt. Live how I lived. “Maybe I’ll have one of my biker friends come over and fuck you in the ass in front of your husband,” I told her. “Rape you. Take what you don’t want to give. Fuck what you don’t want fucked, but unlike you, I won’t ignore it. I won’t turn my back on it. I’ll watch. I’ll cheer. And I’ll fucking rejoice when he splits you in two.”
My piece of shit mother wailed and shook as one would naturally do when they know they’re about to meet their end. “Samuel, please…” she begged, her black eye makeup ran down her face and it seemed fitting that she was crying dirty tears.
“You know Mom…” I started, turning the barrel of the gun on her head, tangling it in her hair. “To me, you’ve never looked better than you do right now…at the end of my gun.”
Billy’s van pulled in the end of the driveway and he hopped out with the cooler in his arms. He took in the scene in front of him, glancing from me to my gun to my mom to Mitch, before landing back on me.
“You can’t kill me,” my mother stated on a sob. “He’s, he’s a witness.”