Page 47 of Signs and Signals

“No, that is not how that went down. But for your information, I made it abundantly clear to her, that she is not wanted by me, now or ever. If she ever comes in my vicinity ever again, near my home or the ballpark, among other things, I will slap her with a restraining order.”

Mom’s eyes widen and her face is beginning to heat. She is pissed off, but she won’t raise her voice or make a scene. The restaurant is packed for lunch, which is why she chose this place to begin with, and it has backfired on her.

“Also, Lyra may have shown up and beat the shit out of her. Again. So, no, we are not together or working anything out. I know you helped with the article by sending in what you wanted to be said. Why would you do that to me? I was happy, extremely happy being with Indya. I loved her with everything in me, and I still do. But again, you didn’t like that outcome, so you had to poison what you wanted to get rid of, her. Why would you not want your children to be happy in all aspects of their lives, Mom? Isn’t that what all parents want for their children, happiness?”

Her face is stone, and she is having a hard time keeping herself in check, wanting to retaliate but can’t because of her precious reputation. Again, I continue on, not giving her a chance to speak.

“Is there anything you would like to confess to before anything else comes to light, Mom? Because right now, I am more than pissed at you. I am filled with so much anger andresentment toward you it is unreal. If there is anything else you want to add, now is the time.”

She gazes out the window, taking in the Columbia River and the surrounding trees and greenery. The leaves are finally showing signs of fall, with vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows standing out against the green that still clings on. The beauty of the outside is being overrun by my mother’s ugliness and unrealistic wants.

“I was only trying to help you find true happiness, Atlas. Can you blame me for that? Having our family connected to the Whitman’s is beneficial to both sides. With our winery and their hotels and restaurants that serve our wines, which would make our social standing stronger. I don’t understand why you think I am doing any of this to hurt you. I am only trying to help our family. What the world sees when they look at us is important, if they don’t like what they see, they can stop buying what we produce, and it would not only hurt us financially, but socially.”

I honestly can’t believe Van, Lyra, and I are her children. She only cares what others think and the reputation our last name holds in society. My father is no better, he is so absent, looking for other ways to make more money and have more and better than anyone around him.

“What does Dad think of you meddling this way? Have you seen him lately? Because to be honest, Mom, I have not seen or spoken to him since we had dinner in Portland after my game, and that was only for a moment. Where has he been and what has he been doing?”

There is something she isn’t telling me. Something is going on inside that mammoth of a house they call a home, that none of us know about. Every time I ask her about dear old dad, she begins to fidget and will not look me in the eyes. No matter what it takes, I will have answers before I let her leave this restaurant. Today is the day and I wantallthe answers.

“I haven’t seen or spoken to your father since the dinner after the game. If I tell you this, the information goes no further than the two of us, do I make myself clear, Atlas? I mean it,” her words are sharp, so I nod, agreeingly.

“Your father and I are separated, only coming together for important things like the gala and supporting you at your games. We will still present ourselves as a united front for the outside world. However, inside our home, it is just me and the help. He is staying in a condo in Portland doing God knows what, with God knows who. But as long as our reputation stays intact, we’re both still getting what we want. This is what works for us,” she says, so cold and uncaring. I wonder if their marriage was ever one of love or if it was just convenience of wealth and power.

“That explains a lot then. I appreciate you telling me, so now I understand more when it comes to Dad. But seriously, Mom, are there going to be any other surprises when it comes to my life? I think I have been more than fair to you. I tell you when you do something I dislike, though, you never change your ways, continuing to do what you want.

“My reputation and social standing are not connected to the family business. It is connected to the number eight and the Riverside Legends. My name is known because of baseball, not you or dad, not even Evander or Lyra. If you type Kensington into google search, I am the thing that comes up first and the most, not the family, not the business, not any of the things you seem to think are important like reputation and where we rank among the other wealthy people in the world. My stats, and information I have with baseball, and every now and again, when you pull shit like you have been, articles of me that are untrue. How do you think that makes me feel, Mom?”

She just sits there, alternating between looking at her bowl of salad and the window, randomly taking sips from herwine glass. She isn’t getting it, she will never care about who she hurts along the way, as long as she gets her way. But I am putting an end to it, today.

“I feel like I am not getting anywhere with you, Mom. You only hear the things you want to hear. When you don’t hear the things you want, you add words of your own and twist everything around, so it becomes what you wanted in the first place. But I can’t have you doing that anymore. This is the last time you try and alter my future. The next time this happens, you will lose me, so for your sake and mine, I hope there is nothing else,” I tell her as I begin to stand.

I push in my chair, and walk to her side, kissing her cheek in goodbye, then turn to leave. She says nothing, she just sits there as I walk out the door. God, let there be nothing else.

When I get back home, not even an hour later, Amara is waiting in the lobby for me. She is sitting on a black oversized chair, reading a magazine from the glass table that is situated in front of her. When she hears Leo greet me, she looks up.

“Hey, Amara. I didn’t realize you would be here, how are you,” I say.

“Don’t give me that shit, Atlas. I am so pissed at you—you are lucky I don’t kick your ass where you stand. So, if we could head up to your apartment, I would appreciate it. I don’t need to be sent to jail for any of the actions I take if I dislike what comes out of your mouth,” she snipes before standing and snatching her bag and jacket off the back of the chair.

As she stomps her way to the elevator door, I follow. “Of course. Is everyone okay?” I ask nervously, hoping that nothing has happened to Indya or Haven.

Thankfully the elevator has the ability to take me straight to my home, so the ride is brief. When the doors open, Amara stomps her way into my living room, tossing her shit on mycouch. She still hasn’t said anything, but she looks as though she is trying to calm herself down.

I take this moment to tell her everything that has happened since the night Indya ripped my heart from my chest. I figure if she isn’t going to start, then I will, making sure she knows what she saw the last time she was here, was not as it seemed. What happens next, shocks the living shit out of me.

“I really hope everything you told me is the truth, Atlas. Or did you leave some things out? You didn’t have to see her so sad all those weeks. She would cry so hard at night, and I could hear her in my room. There was nothing I could do to make it better or less painful for her. That article and picture destroyed her. Don’t you have people in your line of work who are supposed to know what is being published about you? People who take care of these types of things before they ruin the lives of the ones that you are supposed to love. What about the engagement party she was invited to? Did you have a hand in that too, because that was as low—” I cut her off, because that catches me off-guard.

“What the fuck do you mean inviting her to an engagement party? I don’t know anyone getting married to go to a party,” I can tell my question confuses her by the way her brows furrow and head tilts. Even some of the anger she was holding has dissipated.

Amara tells me about how my mother showed up and the invitation she gave to Indya. I could strangle my own mother right now. How could she keep doing this? What is it about Indya that she dislikes so much? If my mother would give her a chance, she would see the kind of person Indya is—kind, generous, beautiful, and most importantly, perfect for me.

I am standing there shocked, hurt, and disappointed. Disappointed in myself, my career choice, my life choice, but most of all, my mother. I just asked her if there was anythingelse, and she did not say a word. Still, she continues on, ripping my world apart even more.

“Do you know what she asked me not long ago, while she was sobbing so hard in my arms, I felt helpless? She asked me what she did in life to deserve the things she has been through. She asked why she deserved her parents dying, being put into foster care, being molested and raped, and all the other shit she had to deal with from the age of seven until now. She wanted to know why she didn’t deserve love, Atlas, love.

“All she has ever wanted in life was to be loved, like her parents loved her for the first seven years of her life. Can you imagine being seven and growing up without love and affection, a loving touch, protection from those who are supposed to protect you, only to hurt you? She has been through so much, and your family and ex-girlfriend decided it would be grand to invite her to a celebration for a man she opened up to and loved hard. How do you forgive someone for this? Tell me how?”

Amara is now in my face, yelling and screaming out each question. My heart breaks for Indya right now. I can feel my eyes tearing up, all my anger and sadness trying to find a way out. My eyes meet Amara’s, and I take a step back; she, too, has tears in her eyes but she is determined to control when they are released.

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