Page 24 of Unhinged

“You’re my son! Tell me everything. Who are they? What did those fucking monsters do to you?”

Shocked by her anger, I still argue, “No.”

“You were eighteen, and they weren’t?”

“And how in the fuck do you know that?” The only person I ever told was… It’s impossible.

Oh, shit. She told Amos. Amos blabbed to my mother.

Vaughn is so dead.

And if I ever see that bitch again, so is she.

“Amos told you this shit, didn’t he? Son of a… I’ll kill him.”

“No, he did not.” She looks toward the building and then back at me.

“Then who else did he tell?”

“I won’t reveal that secret until you divulge yours. What happened that night?”

“Nothing.”

“Have you talked about this with anyone? Does Hadley know?” I swallow, still clenching my teeth. I don’t want to talk about this or her. These days, there is very little I want to talk about.

I turn to go to my truck, but she grabs my arm. “Why are you hiding so much from me? Why do I have to hear about your assault from someone else?”

“Back off, doc.”

She yells, “I will not, Gregory Rodwell!” We glare at each other as she wipes her cheeks. “Did Eden know?”

Unable to speak through my fury, I shake my head. Mom’s hands cover her mouth, and she sobs, “It’s true, isn’t it? Someone hurt my baby.”

I roll my teary eyes irritably and dig into my coat pocket for my keys. Sniffing, I say, “I’m not hungry.”

Mom shakes her head like a snow globe. “We’ll grab some food and take it home. To talk.”

“I’ll pass. I think I’ll stay with Dad.”

She sniffs as I walk and says, “Great. Maybe you’ll talk to him instead.”

I turn around, arguing, “He doesn’t… Mom, no. Don’t… You can’t tell him anything!”

“Neither of us can keep this from him!”

“I was a fucking adult then, as I am now! What do you want me to tell you? Do you want a goddamn play-by-play? Do you want to know who deflowered me and how?”

“Oh, my God! No!”

“But, hey. I didn’t shoot my wad, so, no harm done, right?” I rub my eyes as I try so hard to suppress a motherfucking sob.

As I again turn to leave, she squeals, “Greg, wait! Please don’t go!” Mom catches up to me. “I won’t tell your dad right now, but we need to talk. Please don’t shut me out. Please, sweetheart.”

“Don’t force me to… I don’t want to relive it with you. Not here. Not now.” Never.

She dries her cheeks and nods. “We won’t talk today.” Squeezing my arm, my mom closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Let’s just go home. Order pizza. Maybe it’ll help calm us down. We won’t talk about any of it. Only when you’re ready.”

My stomach rumbles, and I reluctantly nod. Rolling my eyes as I dry them again, she hooks her arm with mine and hugs me. What is it with damn women and me in parking lots?

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