Page 116 of Clean Slade
“You look so much like your mother, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful,” Grams said. “Can I hug you?”
Mac glanced at me for confirmation, and I nodded, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.
“Only if you want,” Grams said, but Mac raised her hands and hugged Grams herself.
My shoulders sagged, and I felt my insides loosen. I almost lost my balance and fell back when a hand came up to my back, and Slade knelt behind me.
I allowed myself to lean against him, against his hands, for a moment since I couldn’t reciprocate or bury myself in his chest.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
Was I? I had no idea. There were so many emotions going through me I didn’t know how I felt. There was relief, sorrow, happiness, terror, and determination. So many more things I couldn’t define. They all swirled inside me like a toxic cocktail bound to kill me.
I turned my head and offered him a nod as an answer, and Mac let go of Grams.
“Have you been here this whole time?” Mac asked.
“No, honey. We’re just staying here while we’re visiting,” Grams answered. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got water, juice, milk—”
“Can I have coffee?”
“Mac!” My voice came out as nothing but a croak, but Mac turned around and shrugged.
“I had to give it a shot.”
“How about some orange juice?” Grams asked, laughing.
Mac nodded and followed Grams to the fridge, a white appliance that had turned yellow with age.
I had no idea how and where they’d found this place for our meeting, but I had a feeling no one had lived in it for a while.
“Why are you only visiting me now? Uncle Nino came for dinner with Grandpa ages ago,” Mac said.
Grams filled a glass with orange juice and stood in front of Mac with pursed lips.
“It’s hard to explain, sweetie. And you’re too young for the whole truth, but know that I’ve been missing you every day since you and your dad left home.” Grams gave her the glass of orange juice and took a deep breath. “Do you know you used to have my name?”
I opened my mouth to stop Grams, but Slade put his hand on my shoulder and shook his head gently.
“Your name is Mackenzie too?”
Grams laughed.
“Oh no, sweetie. My name is Alessia.”
“But that’s not my name.”
“I know.” Grams nodded and stroked Mac’s head again. “But for a little while, you were my little Alessia, and you always will be.”
It shouldn’t surprise me that Grams could lie so well on the spot without flinching, but it did. She had grown up like this. With truths and lies so perfectly intertwined that evenIsometimes didn’t know what was real and what was fiction.
And yet as much as what she’d told Mac was a lie, it was also the truth.
“Oh, okay,” Mac said.
“So, tell me, Mac, what do you like doing when you’re not in school or doing homework?”
“Do you knowTurning Red?”
