Page 44 of Everything We Give

He knew his mother didn’t like hearing the answers, but she forced herself to ask the questions. And Ian would always tell her, no matter how uncomfortable the events had made him.

“Jackie knocked the camera from my hands.”

“Looks to me like I ...she... missed.”

Ian popped up a shoulder. He struggled with the zipper.

“Ian,” his mom said after a moment, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not.” She shook her head, pulling against the imprisoned hair.

“Don’t move.” Ian finally freed the snarl and unjammed the zipper. He asked for the comb and as he worked out the tangle, his mom silently cried. Tears glistened on her cheek like snail trails on concrete. Seeing them made the back of Ian’s eyes burn. He kept his focus on his mom’s hair so he wouldn’t have to see her in the mirror. His hand followed the comb down the length of her back with each stroke until her hair glistened.

Ian returned the comb. “All done.”

She tugged free a tissue. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Did you photograph Jackie?”

Ian rolled his lips inward and nodded.

“Ian,” she bemoaned, “that’s why she hurt you. I’ve told you, she’s dangerous. Why do you continue to put yourself in harm’s way?”

He picked up his mom’s blush compact. He opened and closed the case before returning it.

“Very well,” she said, resigned. She dropped a brow pencil into a glass jar of lip liners and mascara tubes. “Have you developed the photos yet?”

Ian nodded.

She swiveled in her chair and smoothed the skirt over her lap. “Show me.”

She wasn’t going to like them. She never liked them.

Ian retrieved from his room the photos he’d developed in his dad’s darkroom yesterday after Jackie left. He gave them to his mom.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she dipped her chin and studied the top image, Jackie ransacking the master bedroom. Ian’s mom had learned to keep her ID, credit cards, and ATM cards hidden. Jackie had drained their bank account once before.

“She’s looking for cash again,” she surmised.

“Yes, and ...” Ian gripped his shoulder and shifted feet.

She lifted her head. “And what?”

He tugged the hem of his shirt.

“Ian. Tell me.”

“She wanted ... she wanted a gun.”

Her face paled. “Jesus.” The photos trembled in her hands. She flipped to the next picture, a close-up of Jackie’s face and her screeching at him,I’ll strangle you with the camera strap!

She flipped through the next two. Jackie getting into the car and then driving away.

“I wish I got more pictures.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” She wiped her nose. “I would give anything to keep you safe from me,” she murmured.

“I am safe from you. It’s Jackie. She’s the mean one, not you, Mom.”

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