Sinful Desire

Sophie nodded immediately, letting him know she understood. “And that brought you all closer, I imagine.”

“It did. I was almost fifteen when we moved in with her and my granddad, my dad’s parents. I guess that kind of thing can either rip you apart or bring you closer,” he said, more easily than he’d ever expected to be able to voice such words. Perhaps because the deadbolt was undone. The door was open, and the heavy weight of years of closeting secrets had lightened. His heart felt freer than it had in ages, his head lighter. Funny, how he’d never known that talking like this, to someone who wasn’t in the inner circle, would feel oddly peaceful. “In our case, mostly it brought us closer,” he said, and took another bite of his pizza, savoring the delicious cheese and the tasty crust.

She took a drink then asked, “Mostly?”

Yes, mostly. Because he knew exactly how his grandmother felt about his mother. The past’s hard grip resurfaced, like claws clamping down on his throat, and his newfound voice. The familiar urge to lock up his history kicked in. But he fought back. “I say that because she doesn’t know I actually visit my mom still.”

“Ah, I understand,” Sophie said softly. “I imagine it would be hard for her to accept that’s something you want. But it’s clearly important to you to see your mom.”

My God, it was like morning sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Talking to Sophie was lightness, it was patience, and it was safety. He barely had to explain a thing. She simply understood it all. She got it, and him. But he didn’t want Sophie to think he was a liar. “It’s not that I hide it from my grandma, per se. And I think she knows on some level, because she’s aware that I go there for Christmas and other times. But I don’t tell her about all the visits. I didn’t tell her I went earlier in the week, for instance. Or that I’m going again next weekend. Guess it just didn’t seem like something it was important for her to know.”

“How often do you visit?”

“I try to see her once or twice a month. Sometimes more, sometimes less.” He sighed heavily. “She gets her hours cut now and then because she acts up.”

“Acts up?”

He looked away, focusing on the steady breathing of his dog on the floor by an air conditioning vent, on the regular up and down motion of the Border Collie’s chest, his black and white fur fluttering lightly. “She’s not…,” he said, tapping the side of his skull. “She’s…” He let his voice trail off again. A lump rose in his throat. This was so hard to say. “She’s not all there,” he said, practically kicking the words past his lips.

Not only was his mother branded a murderer, not only was she the orchestrator of a gang-led shooting, she was also barreling down the path to insanity. He saw the evidence each time he visited her.

Sophie reached for his hand, threaded her fingers through his, and held on tight. “It all must be so hard,” she said softly, and then she quickly moved on. He could kiss her—for the segue and for knowing one was needed. “Who are you closest to among your siblings? I only have one, obviously, so it’s an easy answer for me. But you’ve got three. That must be a different story.”

A small smile returned to his face. He could do this. He’d made it through the harder topic. His brothers and sister were way more manageable. “On the surface, I guess Michael, since we run a business together and we were in the army together. And we are a great team when it comes to the company. But Michael and I don’t always see eye to eye. About my mom,” he added.

“How so?”

“He never visits her, and he doesn’t like that I do. So we’re close, but sometimes that causes problems. Shannon has gone with me a bunch of times to Hawthorne, so in some ways, I’m closer to her. She still talks to my mom and gets her letters. But,” he said, stopping to take a drink of his wine, then setting it on the table, “that’s not what defines us. That’s not what our family is all about. I mean, it did for a long time in the eyes of strangers. But we’re more than that. We all support each other and love each other and look out for each other. A few years ago, once we were all back in Vegas, the four of us got together and bought our grandparents a house. The one they live in now. It was our way of giving back to them after all they did to help raise us right and make sure we didn’t turn out more fucked up than we were,” he said, with a light scoff. “We were pretty messed up, Sophie.”

She shot him a gentle smile that said she understood.