Page 23 of Pretty When It Burns (When The Lights Go Down #1)

Chapter twenty

"Off I Go" - Greg Laswell

Grayson

My mother’s house looks exactly the way that I remembered it, although the wood of the porch has aged and the paint has faded. It seems to give the house more character.

Mia had told me she would’ve gone inside with me, that she could visit her own mother across the street after, but I know this is something I need to do alone.

What does my mother look like now?

Her hair is probably graying, and her face has likely wrinkled. She’ll be frail, from the wear of the cancer on her already small frame; her voice on the phone had conveyed that to me.

I hadn’t called back to let her know that I was coming. I didn’t want to make promises I might talk myself out of. But here I am, taking another deep breath before I knock on the door.

The woman who answers has my mother’s eyes, but that’s about the only thing I recognize. She looks broken, physically and emotionally.

I can’t help but think, I did this… part of this is my fault.

A thin, bony hand clasps around my wrist, as if she’s making sure I’m really standing in front of her.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” she says quietly. “When I didn’t hear from you after we spoke on the phone, I thought you’d decided not to.”

“I’m here, Mom,” I reply, my voice shaking.

She stands up straighter, composing herself, before she lets me inside.

The house is a mess, but that isn’t what surprises me.

As we walk through the foyer through the halls of my childhood home, there are so many things that look exactly how I remembered them.

Mine and Johanna’s childhood photos still line the walls, but there are also framed magazine covers from Johanna’s modeling and Catastrophically Charismatic’s album covers.

When we get to the living room, all of the band’s physical albums and any record I’ve ever been featured on sit next to the old record player, right next to my father’s albums and the old piano, just like Johanna had said.

“She wasn’t kidding,” I chuckle lightly to myself. “They’re all really here.”

“Of course they are,” my mother says. “As angry as I was at your father for always putting his music career before me, before our family, I was always proud of him. Just like I’ve always been proud of you. I’m sorry that I never told you that.”

“You had so many opportunities to reach out after I left. You didn’t even try to stop me from going,” I sigh. “What stopped you? Johanna says you’ve come to shows, yet I’ve heard nothing until now. We could’ve had years, Mom.”

She takes in a ragged breath as she finds a place on the couch, looking pensively in no particular direction. Her eyes finally meet mine.

“Grayson,” she begins. “You made it very clear the day that you left. You said if I couldn’t support you, you didn’t want me in your life.

I didn’t know how to do that. I was still grieving your father.

I was scared. Watching you chase the same dream that took him away from me…

I couldn’t bear it. But you're right—I should’ve called.

I should’ve been there. And baby, you would’ve gone whether I had tried to stop you or not. ”

There it is.

After all the years, the silence, the bitterness—I finally have the answer I’ve wanted my whole adult life.

It doesn’t erase the pain, but it makes it real. I can’t forgive the years of silence completely, but I want her to know what my life is like now before it’s too late. Before the cancer destroys her so badly that she won’t be coherent enough for it to mean anything.

“I got divorced less than a week ago,” I say bluntly.

My mom smiles sympathetically. “Your sister mentioned.”

“I wasn’t happy.”

“Are you happy now?”

I think about it for a moment. I’ve built up so many walls to get through the day to day that the feeling of happy just isn’t familiar to me anymore.

“I’m working on it,” I say honestly. “The band’s doing great. We’re about to start our next tour. And I reconnected with Mia Alexander, from across the street.”

“Mia…” Mom muses. “She’s the youngest of the Alexander girls, right?”

I nod. “She’s incredible. I’d just been sleepwalking through the last ten years of my life, you know? She woke me up.”

“I remember her. Their father leaving really did a number on all of them, but their mother always said that Mia had the worst of it. Rebekah did mention at her last visit that she thought Mia was doing really well in Texas—something about a media job, living with a friend from work.”

Mia doesn’t talk about her father much. Her oldest sister had been in my grade, and I vaguely remember the year that Mr. Alexander left, but it was around the same time that my own father died.

“That friend turned out to be my bassist’s little sister,” I explain.

“When I saw Mia for the first time after all these years, it felt like fate or something. She’s a big part of why I’m here.

She’s across the street visiting with her mom right now, but I’d love to reintroduce you to her, if you’re up for it. ”

“That would be wonderful, Grayson,” my mother says.

Then, suddenly, everything isn’t so wonderful anymore. All of the color drains from her face almost instantaneously, and her hands fly to cover her mouth. I thought that maybe it was just nausea, that this is normal, but then she starts vomiting blood.

“Mom,” I say, rushing to her side and making sure to grab my phone. “Mom, I’m calling 911. It’s going to be fine, okay? I’ve got you.”

She nods, her hands still covering her mouth, the blood all over her face and clothes.

My thoughts were everywhere and nowhere all at once.

I attempt to process what’s happening and fix it at the same time, telling the paramedics our address and as many details as I can think of.

I hold onto her for dear life until the ambulance comes.

She’s unconscious by the time they get there.

Just as the paramedics are loading her into the ambulance, I hear someone calling my name. I turn, and there’s Mia—barefoot, breathless, her eyes wide with panic as she runs across the lawn.

“What the hell happened?” she exclaims with concern covering her voice. “Are you okay? Is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” I respond, shaking my head. “She just started throwing up blood out of nowhere, and now she’s unconscious. I’ve got to go to the hospital.”

“Grayson,” she whispers, pulling me closer to her. “Do you want me to come with you?”

I try to relax into her, but my mind is still racing. I don’t want to let her go, but my mom needs me.

“Take the car and follow us,” I say, handing her the keys from my pocket. “And call Joey, please? Just tell her what’s going on, and tell her to get here.”

The paramedics motion for me and I climb into the ambulance. The doors slam shut behind me with a metallic finality, cutting me off from everything except the sound of my mother’s shallow breathing and the steady rhythm of the monitors.

Then, we’re gone—speeding toward a future I don’t know how to face.