Page 113 of We Are Yours

“Kraven…” She eyed me, grinning. “How about we start over, okay? Tell me about school.”

“School?”

“Yeah, catch me up on your life. What’s going on?”

“Alright.” I gave in, folding my arms over my chest. “I’m a juvenile delinquent, and you just signed me out of a detention center. How do you think it’s going?”

“Kraven, you’ve always been a handful. Do you remember that time I lost you at the store?”

“Yeah, you were high and lost me.”

She shook her head, laughing and ignoring me. “You hid under the clothes rack. You’ve always been a little troublemaker.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Ah! Witty too. My boy.” She caressed my face. “I love you.”

Hearing her say that did something to me—it wasn’t necessarily a good thing, and it wasn’t a bad one either. I was somewhere between feeling like she kicked me in the balls and then sliced me open to see what she left behind. Using the same knife she used to cut us out of her life.

Except it was still dripping, echoing loudly in the room.

I didn’t move her hand this time. It felt soft against my skin.

“I know you still love me. I’m your mommy. Don’t you remember all the good times?”

“You mean the ones when you used to leave us with strangers to go buy drugs?” I sarcastically smiled, adding, “Those were the best.”

“What about all the birthday parties! You know what?” She squeezed my face. “We should have a party! Like old times! We can invite the whole neighborhood! You and Julius can play for everyone!” She spun around the room, swaying her dress.

I was sideswiped with yet another memory of how she used to do this exact thing.

“It will be perfect! I’ll plan and do everything!”

I shook off the memory, eliciting these emotions I spent years running from.

“That sounds like my worst nightmare.”

She caressed my cheek one last time before she cracked the eggs into the pan. “You’re so stubborn. Just like your father.”

“Fuck him.”

She glanced back at me. “Yeah!” She cheered with her hand up in the air. “Fuck him!”

I didn’t falter. “Fuck you too, Mom.”

Slightly wincing, she shrugged. “At least you called me Mom.”

I regretted it instantly. “You know what, you’re right, Melody.”

“Kraven,” she stressed. “That’s enough!”

Not surprisingly in the least, Julius bit out, “It’s not nearly enough!”

He made his way into the kitchen with Isla not far behind him. Relief quickly washed over her expression. Isla was dressed in his sweats, but in my hoodie. It was the same black one she’d gotten all bloody.

Reading my mind, or maybe I made a face, she mumbled, “I need to catch up on laundry.”

“Is that my influence?” I whispered back.