Page 17 of King of Pain
The guilt starts to trickle in.
“How have things been with him?”
There’s a brief pause, just long enough to make my stomach churn with worry.
“Everything’s fine, don’t concern yourself with any of that,” she says finally.
“Ma,” I press, my tone firmer now. “What’s going on? Tell me.”
“Iamtelling you,” Ma insists. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. The man’s barely home anymore.”
The guilt I’ve been carrying since I left roars to life, heavy and suffocating.
“Ma, I—”
“No,” she interrupts gently. “Chance, stop it. You didn’t abandon me. I told you to go. You needed to get out, to get away from situations and people that were holding you back. It was time.”
“But—”
“Chance,” she says again, softer this time. “You were always protecting me. Always stepping in. But it’s not your job. I’m your mother.I’msupposed to protectyou.”
“Ma,” I insist quietly, “if anything happens, if you ever need me, you call. Day or night. Murph’s only a few minutes away. He’ll handle it, okay?”
“I know, honey, and I will. But listen, you promised me you’d get out. That you’d go find your heart. That you’d live the kind of life you know he wouldn’t allow you to here. I’ll call Murph myself if I need to.”
“I did promise you I’d get out Ma, but I also said if he even looks at you wrong, I’m coming back.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and when she speaks again, her voice is stronger. “No, Chance. The promise I want from you is that you won’t do that.”
I give her a sigh. I love my mother, but I’ll never understand why she stayed with him. For years now, my presence became a barrier my father couldn’t ignore after one particularly violent incident showed him exactly what I was capable of. He’s been quieter and more subdued in the six years since that night, which was the primary reason I felt somewhat at peace with leaving. Still, I couldn’t shake the unease, the feeling that histemper might resurface the moment I wasn’t there to keep it in check.
To ease my mind, I asked Murph to keep an eye out for her. I may have walked away from day-to-day involvement with The Doves, but they are brothers and sisters for life.
The conversation with Ma shifts back to lighter topics. She asks about my job at the record store, whether I’m eating enough, and if I’ve decided on joining a hockey club so she knows whether to ship my gear. I tell her I haven’t decided on hockey yet. I reassure her it’s not that I don’t want to make it work out here. I just want to focus on pursuing other things first. New beginnings, new interests.
But the heaviness lingers, unspoken, hanging between us like a shadow. We both wish things were different.
“I love you, Ma,” I say as we wrap up the call.
“I love you too, my baby boy,” she says, her voice warm despite everything.
“Promise me one last thing before we hang up.”
“What’s that, Ma?”
“Promise me you’ll never, ever come back to Boston.”
“Ma—”
“Promise me, Chance.”
I pause, the words catching in my throat. “I promise.”
“Good. I’ll come visit when the weather sucks here.”
When we hang up, I sit there for a while, staring at the darkened screen.
The guilt doesn’t fade. I feel powerless.
