Page 69 of In the Air Tonight

I hug her on the sidewalk.

“It’s so good to have you here, my sweet girl.”

“It’s good to be home.”

As I walk inside with her, the familiar scents of candles and the cleaning products she favors spark a million memories of good times and bad. There was far more good than bad, but the bad eclipsed everything else, which is another thing I feel guilty about. I hurt my parents and siblings by turning my back on them and this place where we lived as a family.

On the wall of the living room, our four senior pictures are framed in a square with Teagan and Arlo on top, and me and Junie on the bottom. I’m the only one who isn’t smiling. My senior year was a nightmare to be endured not celebrated.

I recall my mother being annoyed that I’d refused to smile for the photographer.Honestly, Blaise,she’d said at the time,I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you these days.

I haven’t thought of that in years.

She leads the way into the kitchen, which has been updated. I’ve seen the photos, so I’m prepared for the change. What still strikes me as too painful to believe is that my dad isn’t here anymore.

I take a seat at the table while she bustles around getting me a tall glass of iced tea with lemon, just the way I like it. She brings plates with chicken salad sandwiches, a bag of chips and my favorite sweet gherkin pickles. “Thanks, Mom. This looks delicious.”

“It’s so, so nice to have you over for lunch, Blaise. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

What remains unspoken between us is the same thing that’s been unspoken all this time—why I left and never came back, except for the one time I absolutely had to. After my dad died, I mourned the loss of the many years of holidays and other occasions I should’ve spent with him and the others. It just seemed easier at the time to stay away.

Now, I’m not so sure that was the right thing to do.

I give my mom credit. She shows amazing restraint by not immediately grilling me about why hearing Ryder is running for Congress brought me running home when nothing else has, except my father’s death, for fourteen years.

She fills me in on all the family news while we eat. Teagan’s pregnancy has been the most difficult one yet, Arlo’s four-year-old daughter—a niece I’ve never met—is playing soccer and Junie landed a marketing job she’s excited about.

After an hour of chitchat about family, friends and neighbors, we finally run out of things to talk about.

I wipe my mouth with a paper napkin as I work up the courage to tell her the truth. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I came running when you told me what you did the other day.”

“About Ryder running for Congress. I can’t for the life of me imagine why that would be the thing to bring you home when nothing else but losing Dad has, even your siblings having babies.”

I hear the hurt her in her words, loud and clear. “I had a good reason.”

Again she shows restraint by waiting for me to say it.

“Do you remember when Ryder was charged with raping Neisy Sutton?”

“I do, and as I recall it never went anywhere.”

“Because of a lack of evidence.”

“It was such a relief when it was thrown out. Ryder was a good kid who didn’t deserve what that girl did to him.”

“Yes, he did.”

“What?”

“I saw it, Mom.”

She sits back in her chair. “You saw what?”

“I saw him rape her.”

“Oh Blaise. Oh my goodness.” She pauses and then directs a penetrating stare my way. “This is why.”

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