Thousands (Dollar #4)

Unthinkingly, I untangled myself from my mother’s embrace and climbed unsteadily to my feet.

I took a stumbling step toward the door, my mind consumed with fixing what I’d just broken, but then I looked back at my mother. At the way she drank me in. At the way she kneeled on the prison floor with such love and admiration and awe—three things I’d longed to see on her face since I was born—and no matter what I’d just ruined with Elder, I couldn’t ruin this.

Not now.

Not when it was so brand new.

I slowly sat back down again, nodding at my mother to join me on chairs instead of dirty linoleum.

She stood with a wince and sat, planting her hands in the middle of the table, her fingers waggling for mine.

Once again, I glanced at the door.

Elder...

Is he okay?

What happened?

My loyalties were divided. Indecision kept me stationary.

“You can go after him.” My mother’s voice wrenched my head up. “I understand.”

I had her approval.

My weight shifted from my butt to my toes, ready to launch me from my chair, but once again, I glanced at her face—to the regret and sadness and strange, messy pride—and settled back into position.

I had to accept that Elder was hurting but so was my mother.

So am I.

I couldn’t split into two and soothe both. I had to remain here, for now, and give my entire attention to her. I had to do that so I could at least bandage up some of my own pain by curing some of hers.

Then, once I wasn’t such a wreck, I could find Elder and do the same.

Knowing I had to cure others before patching myself up added another gruelling tax.

I’m exhausted.

Wrung out, mind blank, heart bruised.

But this was my fault.

No one wanted that trip down terrible memory lane.

I had to be the one to fix it.

Taking my mother’s hands, I sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you by telling you such things.”

A soft squeeze followed by a motherly scoff. “Min, you could cut out my heart right now, and you couldn’t hurt me any more than I did when I realised I failed to love you.”

We shared a tangled smile, letting silence fill the holes inside us.

Finally, she grinned, somehow switching such awful topics and choosing a much easier one. “He seems nice. Strange...but honourable.”

My bones ached as I looked at the door. “He saved me.”

“Is he good to you?”

Speech became thick with tears, so I nodded.

“In that case, he’s got my undying welcome to the family and thanks.”

I nodded again, biting my lip to staunch yet more liquid. There was so much to say, so many better things to discuss. Things like Morocco and Monte Carlo and the Phantom and swimming with dolphins. So many magical moments all granted by the man who’d bought me a genie bottle from a dusty, toothless vendor so many weeks ago.

He was my true genie.

Better than any guardian angel or lover combined.

I’m so lucky.

And I hurt him so terribly.

A knock sounded on the door, cracking wide to reveal, not Elder as my heart had hoped, but the guard who’d presided over this meeting. “Fifteen minutes is up. Time to say goodbye.”

So soon?

So fast?

Who knew fifteen minutes not only had the power to change a person, a life, a relationship, but also ticked faster than any other time on a clock?

My mother squeezed my hands again. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me to see you. To see you healthy and alive and with a man you obviously care deeply for.” She sighed. “I wanted so much for you, Tasmin. University, a career, a calling...but I’m wiser now than I was then. Looking back on my life, only two things stand out to have any real importance.”

“What two things?” I didn’t really want to ask. I feared she’d say her clients and awards she earned in her chosen field, but I wanted to be supportive, so I would plaster on a smile and nod brightly when she admitted it.

“You and your father,” she whispered.

I froze, my ears ringing with shock.

“Nothing else mattered. I see that now, and it’s too late. I loved your father very much, and he was taken from me far too young. And you, my precious girl, I loved too much, and I pushed you away only to lose you, too.” Her shoulders rolled as tears once again filled her gaze. “I’m still your mother, so I’m going to give one more piece of advice...if you’ll let me.”

I hid my amazement that she’d put family above career and smiled uncertainly. “Of course.”

Pointing at the door where Elder had run, she said firmly, “If you care for him and he cares for you, then ignore everything else. Forget everything I ever told you. Disregard everything society forces on you. You want kids; you do it. You want cake; you eat it. You want to go to the Olympics, by God, you have fun kicking ass.” She laughed at the last one, deliberately lightening the mood even though my heart smarted with yet more truth. I couldn’t have children so that point was moot—no matter how terrorizing.

“Under no circumstances do you let the should-dos dictate and steal your life. It’s too short, Min. It’s too easy to screw up. Be true to yourself and follow your heart. Only then can you look back and have no regrets.” She stood, keeping my hands in hers, pulling me to my feet.

Moving around the table, she pulled me into her arms.

Mother to daughter.

Woman to woman.

Her wiry frame fit against mine as if it were a mirror image, both of us paying for our choices with different battle scars.

“I love you, Tasmin.” She kissed my cheek, her dark hair mingling with mine for a second. “Stay in touch...if you want to. But don’t stay in England if it’s not where you want to be. Travel, explore, find where your soul is happiest.”

“But what about visits—”

She tapped my nose, stepping away. “Phone calls and Skype. I’m in prison, but they allow liberties for loved ones and family. Up until now, I had no one to put on my register. I’ll fix that today.”

She blew me a kiss as the guard waited for her to present her wrists to slap the cuffs back on. “I’m so proud of you, Minnie Mouse. So proud.”

I pressed my fist against my heart to prevent it from cracking under the pressure of such a gift. I couldn’t stop the trickle of tears as she was led away.

Only, these tears weren’t caustic and burning.

These tears were fresh and mending.

I was still exhausted.

I was still drained and crippled and frazzled from the day.

But for the first time, I unbuckled a piece of my past and deposited the terrible weight. Discarding one tiny piece of luggage—throwing away a satchel or a duffel filled with screams and silence—and finally had the courage to stroll away without it.

*

I’d expected to find Elder waiting outside the room, but instead, I found a fresh-faced officer who led me silently back the way I’d come.

I couldn’t argue about being escorted from the prison on my own, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of Elder leaving without me.

Nervousness pooled in my belly. Anxious heat hissed over my skin.

Where is he?