Getting Hotter
Page 89
“I’m sorry I got Adam killed, Mom.”
There was a shocked gasp. Then complete and utter silence.
It lasted so long that he had to check the display to make sure his phone hadn’t dropped the call.
“Mom?” he said gruffly. “Did you hear what I said?”
“I heard.” Her voice was so quiet he barely made out her response.
“Okay. Well, that’s it. That’s why I called. I’ll talk to you la—”
“Don’t you dare hang up on me!” Missy roared.
Now he was the one stunned into silence. “Oh. All right. Are we going to talk about it then?”
“Are you f**king kidding me, Seth? You just apologized to me for killing your brother, and you think we’re not going to talk about it?”
He’d never heard his mother sound so livid. Her breathy little-girl voice was sharper than the blade of his Bowie knife, each word oozing with red-hot fury.
Seth gulped. “I figured you wouldn’t want to. You never want to talk about him.”
A heavy breath echoed in his ear. “You’re right. Jesus. You’re right, I never talk about him.”
“’S’okay. I get why you can’t. It’s hard for me too.” A lump rose in his throat. “Look, I know you forgave me for what happened, but I needed to say it out loud. Just once. I needed to apologize because I never apologized all those years ago. I never told you how sorry I was for—”
“Shut up, Seth.”
He frowned, annoyed by the interruption. “I’m not finished. I need you to know that I accept full responsibility for—”
“Shut the f**k up, Seth!”
His temples began to throb, the room doing another dizzying spin.
“You are not to blame for what happened to your brother,” Missy Masterson announced. “It is not your fault that sick son of a bitch got his hands on Adam.”
Shock spiraled through him. “But—”
“But nothing.” Another gasp came over the line. “Oh Jesus. Oh Seth. Have you been blaming yourself all these years?” Now she sounded like she was crying. “Oh baby, it wasn’t your fault.”
“But…but you…”
“I made you believe that it was?” Horror reverberated from her voice.
“No, but…you couldn’t look at me after it happened. And at the funeral, you wouldn’t meet my eyes when I…” He trailed off, confused as hell.
“I couldn’t look at you because I didn’t want to see the accusation in your eyes.”
His confusion skyrocketed. “What are you talking about?”
“It wasn’t your fault Adam died. It was mine.”
Her declaration left him speechless.
“I’m the one who left the two of you home alone instead of shelling out ten bucks for a f**king babysitter. I shouldn’t have put you in charge, for God’s sake. You were too young!” She was crying openly now, each sob bringing a painful squeeze to his heart. “I felt so guilty afterwards. I could barely look at you without thinking of your brother, without thinking about what a terrible mother I was. I’m going to go to my grave knowing that I’m the reason my son is dead, Seth.”
Seth was absolutely dumbfounded. He hadn’t known what to expect from this phone call—he wouldn’t have even called if it weren’t for the tequila buzzing in his veins—but hearing his mother take the blame for the one thing he’d been agonizing over for the past nineteen years? Never would’ve guessed it.
“It’s not your fault,” he told her, shaking his head in disbelief. “Christ. How could you think it was your fault? I was supposed to be watching him.”
“I was supposed to be watching both of you.”
“I couldn’t catch up to the truck.”
“I shouldn’t have left my kids home alone.”
They both went quiet for a moment.
A wave of sadness washed over him as he was struck by a very depressing thought. “We’ve each suffered with this for almost two decades. And we suffered alone. Jesus, Mom, why didn’t we talk about this before now?”
“Because you never called me up drunk before and raised the subject.” She sniffled. “And vice versa.”
“We shouldn’t have to be drunk to talk about Adam.”
“No, we shouldn’t.” His mom sighed. “You know, baby, I’m starting to think we’ve suffered enough. Maybe it’s time we…”
“Time we did what?” he asked when she didn’t continue.
“Time we accepted that a twisted man by the name of Jarvis Henderson was responsible for Adam’s death.”
His eyes began to sting. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe it is time for that.”
“Seth…I love you. You know that, right?”
“I love you too, Mom.”
A muffled female voice interrupted. “Missy! We need you back here!”
“Five minutes,” his mom called.
“Go,” Seth said gruffly. “They need you. We can finish this conversation tomorrow.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Go. I love you.”
“Love you too, sugar pie.”
The phone fell out of his hand, which was beginning to shake again. He couldn’t believe his mother had blamed herself all these years.
He couldn’t believe they’d both been too guilt-ridden and grief-stricken to have this conversation a long time ago.
There was a shocked gasp. Then complete and utter silence.
It lasted so long that he had to check the display to make sure his phone hadn’t dropped the call.
“Mom?” he said gruffly. “Did you hear what I said?”
“I heard.” Her voice was so quiet he barely made out her response.
“Okay. Well, that’s it. That’s why I called. I’ll talk to you la—”
“Don’t you dare hang up on me!” Missy roared.
Now he was the one stunned into silence. “Oh. All right. Are we going to talk about it then?”
“Are you f**king kidding me, Seth? You just apologized to me for killing your brother, and you think we’re not going to talk about it?”
He’d never heard his mother sound so livid. Her breathy little-girl voice was sharper than the blade of his Bowie knife, each word oozing with red-hot fury.
Seth gulped. “I figured you wouldn’t want to. You never want to talk about him.”
A heavy breath echoed in his ear. “You’re right. Jesus. You’re right, I never talk about him.”
“’S’okay. I get why you can’t. It’s hard for me too.” A lump rose in his throat. “Look, I know you forgave me for what happened, but I needed to say it out loud. Just once. I needed to apologize because I never apologized all those years ago. I never told you how sorry I was for—”
“Shut up, Seth.”
He frowned, annoyed by the interruption. “I’m not finished. I need you to know that I accept full responsibility for—”
“Shut the f**k up, Seth!”
His temples began to throb, the room doing another dizzying spin.
“You are not to blame for what happened to your brother,” Missy Masterson announced. “It is not your fault that sick son of a bitch got his hands on Adam.”
Shock spiraled through him. “But—”
“But nothing.” Another gasp came over the line. “Oh Jesus. Oh Seth. Have you been blaming yourself all these years?” Now she sounded like she was crying. “Oh baby, it wasn’t your fault.”
“But…but you…”
“I made you believe that it was?” Horror reverberated from her voice.
“No, but…you couldn’t look at me after it happened. And at the funeral, you wouldn’t meet my eyes when I…” He trailed off, confused as hell.
“I couldn’t look at you because I didn’t want to see the accusation in your eyes.”
His confusion skyrocketed. “What are you talking about?”
“It wasn’t your fault Adam died. It was mine.”
Her declaration left him speechless.
“I’m the one who left the two of you home alone instead of shelling out ten bucks for a f**king babysitter. I shouldn’t have put you in charge, for God’s sake. You were too young!” She was crying openly now, each sob bringing a painful squeeze to his heart. “I felt so guilty afterwards. I could barely look at you without thinking of your brother, without thinking about what a terrible mother I was. I’m going to go to my grave knowing that I’m the reason my son is dead, Seth.”
Seth was absolutely dumbfounded. He hadn’t known what to expect from this phone call—he wouldn’t have even called if it weren’t for the tequila buzzing in his veins—but hearing his mother take the blame for the one thing he’d been agonizing over for the past nineteen years? Never would’ve guessed it.
“It’s not your fault,” he told her, shaking his head in disbelief. “Christ. How could you think it was your fault? I was supposed to be watching him.”
“I was supposed to be watching both of you.”
“I couldn’t catch up to the truck.”
“I shouldn’t have left my kids home alone.”
They both went quiet for a moment.
A wave of sadness washed over him as he was struck by a very depressing thought. “We’ve each suffered with this for almost two decades. And we suffered alone. Jesus, Mom, why didn’t we talk about this before now?”
“Because you never called me up drunk before and raised the subject.” She sniffled. “And vice versa.”
“We shouldn’t have to be drunk to talk about Adam.”
“No, we shouldn’t.” His mom sighed. “You know, baby, I’m starting to think we’ve suffered enough. Maybe it’s time we…”
“Time we did what?” he asked when she didn’t continue.
“Time we accepted that a twisted man by the name of Jarvis Henderson was responsible for Adam’s death.”
His eyes began to sting. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe it is time for that.”
“Seth…I love you. You know that, right?”
“I love you too, Mom.”
A muffled female voice interrupted. “Missy! We need you back here!”
“Five minutes,” his mom called.
“Go,” Seth said gruffly. “They need you. We can finish this conversation tomorrow.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Go. I love you.”
“Love you too, sugar pie.”
The phone fell out of his hand, which was beginning to shake again. He couldn’t believe his mother had blamed herself all these years.
He couldn’t believe they’d both been too guilt-ridden and grief-stricken to have this conversation a long time ago.
