Page 77 of Before Now

The bronze statues come into view, so I stop. I do the same as Remi. I cover my lens to adhere to her rule, flip the mode, and then move to show her my eye.

“Hi, Foster,” she says, and I smile and reply, “Hey, Remi.”

Then I breathe for a moment, disconnect as much as I can. “Landon’s mom pushed our session later one day. Andrew left that morning, so I almost canceled to stay home and play my guitar. But she offered extra for theinconvenience. I rode my bike over, sat at their kitchen table like I had the past six weeks, and didn’t even glance when his mom squealed at the garage door opening.”

I look skyward, hating I still feel it after everything. Betrayal fucking annihilates under the right circumstances, though. And then it leaves you constantly in fear of it happening again.

“Landon’s dad was home from a business trip. The kid mentioned once his parents weren’t married. His mom added it’s why she gave Landon her name, so Drew would finallyput a ring on itone day if he wanted to carry on his legacy.”

She gasps. “No.”

“Yeah,” I say, drawing out the word. “She came back under Andrew West’s arm. He tucked Landon under the other when the kid jumped up to hug him. I sat there, watching their happy family reunion until he locked onto me. I don’t remember leaving or getting on my bike. All I recall is thinking about Landon never having so much as a bruise on him. His genuine excitement at seeing the man who beat me most of my life.” I chuckle. “It’s fucked, right? He cheated on my mom, moved both families to the same place to make it easier on himself, I guess. He lied, deceived, and all these reasons to hate him. But I was most furious he fucked me up but loved another son.”

Remi’s eyebrow draws in, her head shaking. “I’m sorry. I hate him for it too. What happened with your mom?”

I smile, half-amused and half still disbelieving. “She blinked at me for a solid minute, then calmly told me we’d talk about it when my father got home. That’s the moment I stopped having one. He showed up hours later, walked by me like I didn’t exist, and pulled my mom into their bedroom. I heard most of it, muffled, but clear enough. They came out a united force, and I was to forget everything I saw and never mention it again to anyone.”

“What? She was…”

“Subservient,” I remind her.

A similar disbelief swims in her gaze.

“But me? I kicked the living shit out of him until—here’s the best part—my mom pulled a knife on me.”

Remi whispers, “What the fuck?”

“She claimed it was to protect both of us, scared I’d kill him. I might have. We’ll never know. He threatened me more, but I held all the power. I could tell his second family about the first. So, they shipped me back to Texas, and he gives me money to live off every month and pays for school to keep me away. I feel like a piece of shit for it, but it got me away from them. Once I graduate and have my future set, I’ll fuck up his life in every way I can.”

“I understand it,” she says. “I’d probably do the same, honestly.”

“No one’s hurting right now because of it. My mom’s happy, her depressing version of it anyway. She even willingly divorced the bastard five years ago so he could marry the other chick. Which means his new wife got what she wanted, making her and the kid happy.”

Remi laughs once, and then I laugh too. It’s all so absurd. My mom freely went from wife to mistress, becoming another fake bank memo when he sends her money out of the accounts he shares with his now wife. Everyone’s either delusional or ignorant, and both are better than the fucking reality. Sometimes I wonder if I’m not doing the kid a solid by letting him grow up in bliss before he feels the same damaging betrayal I did.

I glance up ahead to check the bronze statues aren’t on a timer, lucking out when the light catches as they move. But I look down, and Remi has her brow lowered again.

“Fuck, I made you sadder.” I walk the last of the way to the Kafka Museum.

“No. I hate that it happened to you, but I like that you told me.” She pauses. “I might even be less sad because of you.”

I stop at our destination. “Not enough. I’m shooting for barely sad. And what I’m about to show you will either hit the mark or backfire horrendously, and you’ll be all the way sad again.”

Her eye narrows, and I think I can read her with only one by now. But I want something else for this.

“I want to see your mouth again.”

More of a squint before the lens pulls away, and then I see her pouty lips and soft jaw. “Are you going to tell me why?”

“No.” No one’s around, so I take out my earbuds, letting her hear the trickle of water. “But I’ll show you.”

I switch to front-facing mode. She sucks in a sharp breath, her mouth falling open at the fountain of two guys pissing. Their hips move, along with their dicks, and the pool’s shaped like the Czech Republic.

“Well?” I ask. “I hope this isn’t the type of fountain your dad would send you, but it’s one I would.”

“Foster, this is…” She breaks into a pure smile and laughs, and I’m unnerved by the way it melds with my soul but settled all the same. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but it almost feels a little like home.”

“Not a sentence probably spoken about the Piss Sculpture before.” I circle the fountain, giving her a full view of what these dudes have to offer. “What was your favorite fountain he sent?”

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