Page 25 of Reckless

“Mariam!” he called. “Guess who’s here? You were right.”

The woman who’d pampered me with extra cookies and a special bag of candy just for me on Halloween every year grinned at the sight of me with the same indulgent look she’d give me back then. As if she still saw me as a naïve eight-year-old boy.

“Oh, Gage, it’s good to see you. How’s your mom today?”

“She’s sleeping now. It’s been a rough day.”

“Oh no.” Mrs. Harper clutched her hands to her chest. The sympathetic look she gave me was too much, I had to drag my eyes away so I didn’t drown under the weight of it. “That’s awful, I’m so sorry. I’ll be sure to visit her. I’ll bake her some of her favorite lemon poppy muffins like I did last time. Sometimes they’re all she can eat when…”

My breath was suddenly gone. Mrs. Harper had even known. Had the whole town known?

I resisted the urge to scream at her for not immediately calling me so I could’ve done something sooner, but it wasn’t her responsibility to do so. “When she’s sick from the cancer drugs?” I didn’t think I would ever get used to that word. Cancer.

She blinked at me sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I told her to tell you, but she insisted on not worrying you. She always holds herself together so well, even did when you left at such a young age. I suppose she’s lucky that she gets to catch a glimpse of what you’re doing since you’re appearing on one TV show or another all the time.”

“I suppose so.” The woman was piling more guilt on my head with every word, and I was almost sure she wasn’t doing it on purpose.

“She likes knowing what city you’re in and where you’re playing shows.”

“Well, I do call her and try to keep her up to date that way.”

“Oh, I know. You’re a good boy. We always watch you on anything we can. I’m always proud to tell people that your mother is our neighbor. People who don’t live in New Hope never believe me, but it’s the truth.”

“Yes…ma’am.”

Her husband had gone back to whatever he’d been doing on the other side of the bushes, and she just rambled on. “And you’re doing so well. Gaged is such a wonderful band. Maybe a bit loud for my personal taste, but I’ll always support you anyway because I’ll always see you as little Gage Strickland from next door.”

“Thanks for your support.” The words sounded stilted and weird, and I wished I hadn’t said them, but one more second of her rattling on and I’d twist the key off in the lock. “I really do have to get going now, but I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

She beamed at me. “You know where we are, Gage, if you need anything. I’ll do whatever I can to help you and your mom.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon.” I turned the key, the door flew open, and I tumbled inside.

Once the door slammed behind me, I was faced with a table full of framed photos, all of me from various moments of my childhood. Me with a blue ribbon I’d won in 4H, me with my friends at my first middle school dance, me sporting a graduation cap.

Guilt flooded me until I felt like I would collapse under the weight of it. Under the pile of things I should have done back then. And didn’t.