Page 51 of Half Baked

“Enough,Mom. One minute, you’re telling me she’s not good enough for me and the next you accuse me of lying to her.”

“Not lying. Giving her false hope.”

I turned to her, staring in disbelief. “What the hell has happened to you? Where is the woman who raised me?”

Tears filled her eyes. “I’ve learned I have to fight for what I want.”

“Did you learn this lesson fromDad? If so, you picked the wrong battle. I’mnevergoing to give him what he wants.”

Did she even know what he wanted?

Mom started to cry. “You’re right. I wasn’t myself tonight. I was positively awful to Maddie. She seems like a very lovely girl, but I still don’t think she’s right for you, Noah.”

“And someone like Monica is?” I asked dryly.

“No, of course not. Monica treated you terribly.”

“Maddie wouldnevertreat me that way. She doesn’t have it in her.”

“Then maybe you should be protecting her fromyou,” she said, more subdued.

My heart stumbled for a beat. I stopped at a stop sign on my street and turned to look at her. She’d just voiced my worst fear. “What?”

“You took this job to run away from the memories you left behind in Memphis. Monica and your dog and that awful boy who shot you.”

“Caleb. He had a name, Mom.”

“It doesn’t matter; whatdoesmatter is that you’re running away, but you can’t run forever. Eventually, you’ll realize what you gave up and return home. What happens to poor Maddie then?”

I turned a corner, my hands gripping the wheel so tightly I expected it to snap into pieces. “I’m not going back to Memphis.”

“Youhaveto come back to Memphis,” she insisted.

“I am a grown fucking man. I can do whatever I want.” I shot her a scathing glare. “I don’t need your permissionorapproval.”

“Language, Noah!” she snapped tightly. “Treat me with respect!”

“How about you start treating me and my decision with respect, then I’ll show you the same courtesy?”

I pulled into my driveway, but I was so furious I wasn’t sure I could sleep in the same house as her.

“You have to come home, Noah,” my mother pleaded. “Your father is dying.”

If she’d thought I would be surprised by her bombshell, she was about to realize her mistake. “I know.”

“Youknow? How? Did your sister tell you?”

“No.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “He told me at Christmas.”

“What?” She lifted a hand to her hair. “Ididn’t even know at Christmas.”

“Then maybe he’s not the great husband you think he is,” I said with a snide tone I instantly regretted.

Her face fell.

“Mom, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Your father wants you to come home and make things right.”

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