Page 63

Tonight I slept like a damn saint.

Chapter Nineteen

Vega

I woke up feeling peaceful—a peace I had never felt before. There was less weight on my chest than most mornings, and I carried half the burdens I was used to. It was a strange feeling not to harbor all the resentment and anger of a man who didn't deserve to live.

Poppy had somehow given me a new birth. I was a new man, being reborn into the same body. The scars of my past would never go away, but they would fade, and I could make up for them. I could repent for all my sins and become something better. I finally had something worth keeping.

I rolled to my side to find Poppy's spot empty and cold. I pushed up onto my elbows and rubbed my eyes. I blinked several times and looked around the room, but she wasn't there. I took a deep breath and sat up completely, letting my feet sink into a soft pile of clothes and blankets on the floor.

I rubbed my head and ran my hands down my face as I gathered myself. I went into the hall and walked down to the kitchen, avoiding the stacks of books and piles of newspapers. I heard movement in the kitchen and found my mother looking out the small window above the sink.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Is it good?” she asked as she turned to face me. She was holding a mug in her hands as she glared at me with dark eyes. “Because from where I'm standing, I just see a hurricane sweeping through.”

“Right. The hurricane is me. Got it.” I closed my mouth and shifted my eyes to her mug. “Is there more coffee?” I asked.

My mother jerked her head towards the coffee pot beside the fridge. “Mugs are in the cabinet right above it. Help yourself.”

I opened the cabinet and took out a mug. I could feel my mother's eyes on me as I filled the mug with coffee. She was staring through me, her eyes piercing every organ like a serrated blade. “What?” I asked.

“I see you were nosing around my personal stuff.” She snapped her chin at me as her eyes ran over my clothes.

I looked down at myself and held out both arms. “And I see you lied to me when you said you burned everything.”

“Grow up, Vega. I didn't mean literally. Although, maybe I should have.” My mother's lips pursed tight as thick lines creased across her forehead. “When are you leaving?” she asked harshly.

“As soon as possible. Where's Poppy?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I don't know. Bathroom, probably.”

I looked down the hall to see that the bathroom door was closed. I relaxed slightly and took a sip of the fresh coffee. “What are you doing, Mom? What is all this?” I asked, referring to all the crap she had stuffed in her home.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean. I don't like seeing you live like this. You deserve better.”

“How dare you? Who the hell do you think you are? You show up out of nowhere after a decade and think you have any right to tell me how you think I should be living. How I live is none of your damn business.”

I took a slow sip of coffee. “I'm sorry, Mom. I really am. But look at all this?” I looked around the messy kitchen at the piles of newspapers and stacks of junk mail. Dirty dishes, dusty cans of food, and trash were scattered across the counters. Tupperware and trinkets, old framed pictures of my grandparents, and my mother as a child were piled up between everything else. My mother had become a hoarder.

“This is my home, Vega. Don't you dare come in here on your fucking high horse and judge me. After everything that happened, you have no right.” My mother threw her finger in my face and waved her arm. “I didn't ask you to come here. I didn't ask for your opinion. You can get the hell out.” She pointed to the door with a stiff arm.

“Mom, I'm not trying to upset you. It's just that this isn't you. You used to keep the house spotless. I remember you making me scrub the entire kitchen floor in our old house once because I spilled soda, and you were afraid it would attract ants if I missed a spot. This place is a disaster.”

“A lot of things have changed in ten years, Vega. I'm not the same person I used to be. I'm not the mother you remember.”

“Mom—”

She waved a limp hand as she hung her head. “Just go, Vega. Get the hell out of my house.”

“Don't worry, I'm leaving. I didn't plan on staying.” I chugged the rest of my coffee and slammed the mug down on a small, open space of the counter. “Poppy!” I called out as I started down the hall. “Poppy,” I said again loudly and then knocked on the bathroom door. “Time to go.”

There was no answer. Just silence.

“Poppy?” I pounded on the door harder. “Hey, we need to go. You almost done?”