“Y-yes,” I manage on a sob. My tears no longer hold the weight they used to. The sight of them on my face doesn’t make him hang his head like they’ve done in the past when I’ve grown too tired and frustrated to keep them at bay until he’s asleep.
He’s looking at me like he’s never seen my face before. I’m no longer his mother. I’m the woman who lied about one of the most important things in his life, and forgiveness is a long time away, if it is even a possibility.
“Alex, I—”
He shoves past Ignacio and runs down the front steps, but when I move to go after him, the man that caused so many problems by popping back up out of the blue grabs my arm, preventing me from chasing my child.
“Let me go!” I snap, struggling to get away from him.
Of course, he doesn’t. That would mean he isn’t in control, and that power is all this man has ever focused on. When we were younger, it didn’t matter what the choices were, he was always the one to make the final decision—from if he was going to have me in the front seat of his granddad’s truck or bent over the tailgate, if I was going to be on my knees or on my back. If he wanted to go to a party, that’s where we ended up. If he felt like pizza, I’d have to get a burger some other time. I see it now for the control and manipulation it was, but at the time I was okay with it, knowing he’d always make the best decisions. Being a little bossy and telling me what I was going to do and not going to do was thrilling when I was a teen. My job was to please him and keep him happy. In hindsight, it was probably part of his game, part of the thrill he’d brag about to his friends after he dropped me off at home. I was nothing more than a challenge, a test to see how far he could push things with me, how much I’d take from him. I lapped it up like a starved dog, begging him for more.
God, I was such a fool.
“You need to calm down. He doesn’t want to see you right now,” Ignacio says, his voice calmer than the waves of aggravation I physically feel rolling off his skin.
I know going after Alex right now is a bad idea. I don’t know that the kid will ever want to sit down with me and discuss this situation, so I do the only thing I can think of and turn all my anger, all the pain and suffering, all the shortcomings and disappointments that have happened to me since that night in his truck back on to him.
I stop short of beating my fists on his chest because even though my mind is a swarm of questions and scenarios, I know getting violent with him will cause me problems later on if we end up in family court.
“You,” I snap, “do not get to just show up after all this time and start making decisions for my son.”
“Just show up? You make it fucking sound like I’ve ignored my parental duties while smoking crack and breaking the law, only to have found Jesus and remembered I have a child.” He steps in closer, and somehow I manage to stand my ground. I don’t miss the flare of heat in his eyes. He always loved it when I challenged him. “I would’ve never left you if I knew you were pregnant. You lied to me. This is on your shoulders, not mine. Given the opportunity to be a father, I would’ve done the best I could.”
“We don’t need you. He doesn’t need you. He’s been fine without a dad.” Even with the turmoil my lies have caused, I can’t seem to keep more from spilling from my lips.
“He’s been fine?” His eyes dart down the sidewalk in the direction Alex disappeared. “He’s fucking suspended right now, and from the interaction I had with him briefly at the school, I’d say it’s far from the first time. Please explain to me how any of that means he’s fine.”
“The man has a point.”
As if my day could get any worse.
My angry tears have now transformed into ones of complete despair as I shift my body so my mother can see out the front door. A weak smile plays on her lips at the sight of Ignacio on her porch.
“Mr. Torres, it’s wonderful to see you. I see time has been on your side. You’re as handsome as ever.”
He somehow manages to keep that familiar smug look under control as he greets my mother.
“Mrs. Holland, it’s nice to see you again.”
“Brooke, please. Would you like to come in?” Mom offers, but Ignacio doesn’t make a move to enter the house.
His eyes find mine, asking for permission, and when I don’t give it to him, he redirects his energy back to Mom.
“Maybe another day,” he says before glancing back up at me. “This conversation isn’t over.”
With a quick nod of his head, he walks away, climbs in his truck, and makes a U-turn in the middle of the street to head in the direction Alex went.
I don’t know that letting him go after our son is the best thing, but I know Alex wouldn’t listen to me right now if I truly was the last person on earth. Hopefully, Ignacio doesn’t make this situation even worse than it already is.
“What?” I ask Mom as I step back inside and close the door. “No I told you so?”
“Give me time, dear,” she teases. “I’m just waking up.”
Even the smile on her face replacing the grimace of pain normally there doesn’t have the power to lighten my mood.
“This is really bad.”
“You knew it would be.”
That’s true. I knew if he ever came back,
