Page 34

34

Maya

M onday morning, when I wake up in my own bed back in Maryland, there’s a gnawing ache in my chest that I can’t shake. My skin is still tingling from the memory of Christian’s touch, the way his lips felt against mine. And I can’t help but smile, remembering how much fun Finley had visiting him and Preston.

God, I miss them both.

I sit up and scrub my palms over my face, trying to clear the fog from my mind. But no matter how hard I try, the thoughts keep circling back to Christian.

He cares about me, about Finley, about us so much.

And…I don’t know what to do with that.

I care about him and want him too. I think I even still love him. But it’s not that simple. It’s never been that simple with Christian. There’s too much at risk if it ends badly, which it probably will once the season starts.

I sigh and roll out of bed, pulling on a robe as I make my way to the kitchen. I pour myself a cup of coffee, but I barely taste it. I try to distract myself with the reminder that, on Thursday, I’ve got a meeting at the retirement home to discuss my pay and benefits. I should be more excited about starting my first job, finding an actual purpose for myself, and being able to support me and Finley on my own.

I’m just not as giddy about the job as I was a few weeks ago.

The ringing phone interrupts my warring thoughts, and it’s not my cell phone. I take my time reaching for the cordless landline tucked in the corner of the kitchen counter because I’m certain it’s some sort of scam recording.

“Hello?” I answer with a heavy sigh.

“Maya?”

The woman’s voice on the other side is the last one I expected to hear—my mother’s.

I pull the phone away from my ear to check the caller ID. Sure enough, it’s a phone number with the area code of Peachtree City, Georgia, where Preston and I grew up. Where our parents still live.

“Maya?” she calls my name again, the first time I’ve spoken to the woman since I told her and my father that I was pregnant, and they threw me out of the house.

“Yes?” I reply curtly.

“Maya, it’s me. It’s mom,” she says as if I’ve forgotten my own mother’s voice.

“Yes?” I repeat again, since I’m at a loss for what else to say. I’ve waited years for our mother to call and say she had left our father and wanted to be a part of our lives again, that she wanted to finally meet her grandson.

“This was the only phone number I could find for Preston,” she explains in a rush.

Of course, she’s calling for my brother and not for me.

“He doesn’t live here anymore. I can give you his cell number,” I offer. Then, because I’m still hurt by her audacity, I add, “But I can’t guarantee he’ll want to talk to you either.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just…I wanted to let you both know that your father has passed away.”

“What?”

“Yesterday…he didn’t wake up…” she trails off as if unable to explain further or like there’s nothing that can be done about it.

When I don’t say anything else, she adds, “I just…I thought you would want to know so you could come say goodbye.”

“I’ll let Preston know,” I tell her.

“It would be nice to see you and the baby, too.”

“He’s not a baby anymore. He’s five now.”

“Right, well, it would be nice to finally see him…”

I want to yell at her, to tell her that she had years to see him, to be a part of my son’s life, but she refused. She refused because my father put his foot down and forbade her from having any contact with me. Our mother called Preston on all his birthdays and sent him Christmas cards, but not me.

“I’ll call Preston now to let him know,” I tell her. “It’ll be better if he hears the news from me.” Mostly, I just want to end this awkward conversation and talk to my brother. He’s the only one who will understand the shock and disbelief I feel from her phone call.

“Okay. I hope you can come home. The funeral is going to be Friday at eleven.”

“I’ll tell him,” I say, refusing to commit to anything.

“Goodbye,” she eventually says through sniffles.

“Bye, Mama,” I reply, using her name for the first time in years.

As soon as the call ends, I dial up Preston on my cell phone while pacing around the kitchen, chewing on my thumbnail.

“Hey, sis,” he answers right away, like I knew he would. “I’m about to head into training. Is Finley okay?”

“Finley’s great,” I assure him. “Well, other than missing everyone. And I’m sorry to bother you, but, um, you’ll never believe who just called the house or what she said.”

“Who? What?”

“Mama.”

“ Our mother?” he asks, his voice raised in disbelief.

“Yes, our mother called to tell you that our father died.”

“Damn. That’s…the last thing I expected you to say.”

“Right? I was so caught off-guard by her calling the house phone that I could barely speak a word. She wants us to come home for the funeral. It’s Friday at eleven. And she said she wants to finally meet Finley.”

“Jesus.”

“What do you think? Are you going to go?”

“I don’t know, Maya. This is a lot to spring on me.”

“Sorry. I feel the same way,” I tell him.

“Let me…I’ve got to talk to Elle before I make a decision,” he says, making my heart slump. I’m not jealous of her or their relationship. I just wish I had someone I could turn to in times like these other than my brother. My brother who has his own life in another city now. In a way, I guess it feels like Preston abandoned me too, even if that’s silly. Everyone I’ve ever loved has up and left me or thrown me out.

“Okay. Just call me later,” I tell him before ending the call.

Staring at the phone in my hand, my next thought is that I want to call Christian. I don’t even know why, though. He enjoys fooling around with me, but probably doesn’t want to deal with the heavy stuff. It’s not like he knew my father or will understand how badly I’m reeling right now after talking to my mom for the first time in years.

And how in the world am I going to explain all of this to Finley?

He just found out he has a father. Telling him he also had a grandfather until yesterday as well as a grandmother, but that neither of them wanted anything to do with him because Christian and I weren’t married, well, that’s a conversation I never want to have with him.

As I recall my father’s last words to me, I have to pull out a chair at the table to sit down.

You’re both a disgrace to this family.

Your brother can help you raise the bastard, because your mother and I don’t want anything to do with it.

The last words my father spoke were to call my beautiful son a bastard and to say Preston and I were a disgrace to the family.

He meant those words. Even on his death bed, if he had one, he wouldn’t have taken them back.

At least now that he’s gone, I’ll never have to hear another horrible word from his mouth.

I’m not surprised when Elle calls my cell phone before Preston calls me back, while I’m still sitting in shock at the kitchen table.

“Hey, Elle,” I answer.

“Hey. I’m so, so sorry about your dad. How are you holding up?”

“It’s, um, unexpected, but I haven’t spoken to him in years. I guess I’m just…numb,” I tell her. “How’s Preston?”

“I’ve never seen him so…lost. He decided to go to training, even though I tried to convince him to stay home.”

“Yeah, I know how he’s feeling. Our father was an asshole, but he was still our father and now he’s dead and gone. I spoke to my mother for the first time in nearly six years today. What they did to me still hurts like hell,” I explain in a rush.

“I know it does. And his death doesn’t forgive him for being so cruel to you,” Elle says. “Do you think you’ll go to the funeral? Preston seems torn but leaning toward going.”

“Really?” I say in surprise.

“I think he wants to try to make amends with your mom, you know, before it’s too late to see her. He says she mostly just followed your dad’s orders.”

“She didn’t have to follow his orders! She could’ve left him.”

“I know. And she should have done that rather than abandon you and Preston. Going to the funeral doesn’t absolve her of anything either, though. I wouldn’t blame you if you skipped it.”

Sighing, I tell her, “If Preston wants to go, then I’m going too. I won’t let him face that shit alone after all the times he’s been there for me. He’s always been there for me because they weren’t.”

“Then I would say you might want to start packing and thinking about travel arrangements. I guess we’ll be driving down Thursday.”

“Us too, I suppose. God, I don’t even know how to explain to Finley where we’re going or why,” I huff as I cover my face with my free hand.

“It won’t be easy, having to explain death to him. But it is a part of life. One he’ll have to face, eventually.”

“I know. I would have preferred us to start with a goldfish before jumping to people. Especially people who pushed us out of their lives.”

“We’re here if you need anything,” Elle says.

“I appreciate you calling. Make sure Preston reaches out when he makes a final decision?”

“I will. Take care and good luck.”

“Thanks,” I reply.