Page 126 of Secrets That Bind Us
Between taking her to chemo and treatments, we’ve had long discussions about how to get Verity away from Micah. Not only that, but apparently, from what Zoey has told me, Verity is already trying to find evidence of his cheating so she can present it to a judge. So that’s what I’m doing in fucking California. While Verity is doing a book signing in LA, I followed this asshole. I’m trying to get pictures of this motherfucker being a sick, gross fuck. I’m standing on a separate boat less than a kilometer away, expensive as fuck camera in hand, zooming in on him doing blow off some chick’s tits. They look hard. Not firm or soft like I know Verity’s are. And even if she did get a boob job after having kids, I don’t think they'd be like these monstrosities. They look like balloons ready to pop. They have to hurt. Both her and him.
I take picture after picture trying to get an angle of his face, but the weirdo keeps motorboating her tits. Christ, this is harder than I thought. I finally catch the right angle when I hear a weird pop. At first I think it’s one of her tits. But then I see another boat coming in at top speeds. Micah’s head snaps up, and I swear to God he locks eyes on me. Except that can’t be because I’m wearing shades. But that speedboat barrels into them and it’s fucking chaos. Bodies are everywhere and there’s so much blood I’m suresharks will be here soon to feast. People go to help them, but I don't see Micah’s body anywhere.
Good. I hope the motherfucker went under.
I don’t stick around.
I put the boat in reverse and get the fuck out of dodge.
ONE WEEK LATER
Hesurvived.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Dean
Age Twenty-Eight
Marie’s getting sicker.
She needs me more often than not.
Small tasks are too hard–walking, cooking, bathing.
Her paranoia has gotten to her, too.
She grips me tight one night when her nurse and I help her into bed after using the facilities. Her nurse leaves to grab a new glass of water. “Dean.” She almost hisses my name. I know she’s in so much pain. “Listen to me. I need you to listen to me.”
I sit next to her, taking her tiny, frail hand in mine. “I’m here, Mama. You tell me what you need. I got you.”
“I have to die in this house, Dean. You hear me?” They’ve been trying to have her go into hospice, but she’s refused. “She’s gonna come back. And I need to protect her. Even in spirit. You understand? This house holds onto things. Both good and bad, and I need to be here. My baby is coming back. She’s coming back, Dean honey. They whisper things. Mean things. Ugly things. But they show me things, too. Some good. Some very,verybad. I have to keep her safe. She’s coming back. But not for me. For you. But I have to die here. Okay? You promise me that, Dean. You swear it to me.”
Tears in my eyes, still not ready to let the only real mother I’ve ever known go, I simply nod. “Okay, Mama. You rest now, okay? I promise.” I rasp out.
Reverend Bishop enters the room with the glass of water the nurse went to retrieve and trades places with me when she’s softly snoring.
Mama has one last good day, where I wheel her and her oxygen tank to the back porch so she can enjoy the sight of the sunflowers in full bloom.
With a heavy heart, I encourage her to write a letter to Verity.
The next morning, Reverend Bishop calls me.
And I call the coroner.
THREE DAYS LATER
Veritydoescome back.
But not to Adelaide.
She stays the next town over.
She follows Marie’s last wishes to a T.
I catch a glimpse of her at the funeral home, flanked by Zoey and Evan– her rocks. I want to go to her. I want to stand by her side and hold her hand.
She leaves the day before the service. But I know her. She’s grieving in her solitude. But I want to mourn with her. I want to grieve with her.I deserve that, don’t I? She was my mama, too. But I don’t get that chance.
