Page 386 of Vicious Saint
“Just keep resting.”
As if I have any other choice being stitched together like Dr. Frankenstein’s newest monster.
Man…some jokes really do write themselves.
Thoughtful silence drifts from where Mom is sitting beside me, then moments later she clears her throat. “I know I said it a million times already, but I’m really sorry for the mess I caused.”
“And I will say it for the millionth and one time,you should be.”
The curt response comes as no surprise to her, given they’re still all I’m willing to give.
If forgivenessisin our future, it won’t be with Mom’s words, tea, or the endless array of flowers and teddy bears she lined my room with.
Time may heal physical wounds, but not a lifetime worth of lies.
“You’re right…and I will regret it for the rest of my life.” Mom tucks strands of messy hair behind her ear, then exhales a shaky breath. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Hendrix, there’s no doubt about that. But I love you too much not to hope you’ll find it in your heart to give me a chance to earn it.”
“I won’t make promises I can’t keep.”
“And I respect that, baby, even though it breaks my heart.”
Left with nothing else to say, I take a sip of the tea, wincing from the sharp sting it forms on my busted lip.
“Should I get you more medicine?”
“No, I’m fine. They make me too tired.”
Saint too, apparently, because it’s past eleven in the morning and he still hasn’t woken up for his morning Hendrix bodily inspection.
A ping comes from my phone on the nightstand, so Mom reaches over to retrieve it, sneaking a glance at the screen before handing it to me.
I open the message to find a candid photo dated back eighteen years ago of a younger Dante and Luca Salvini, laughing with their arms draped over each other’s shoulders.
This is the third picture Dante sent me of my birth father, each one more carefree than the last, making it that much harder to picture the man as a monster.
“So you’re speaking with Dante, I see.”
Mom tries, but there’s no hiding the bitterness in her tone.
I slide the phone under my blanket. “He’s been checking in on me.”
Not really sure why, since he’s got three men constantly outside the mansion demanding hourly updates on every damn move I make.
Or don’t make.
“Dante is a very dangerous man, Hendrix.”
“He’s also an honest man,Mom. Who’s making it a priority to fill me in on half of where I came from.”
Come to think of it, I doubt she would’ve bothered making up the fake story about my dad if I didn’t overhear the tail end of her conversation with Auntie when I was a kid.
“You saw what he did to Nikolai and his daughter. Do you really want to associate yourself with someone like him?”
Yeah…about that.
The trust between Mom and me is part of an even longer road than the one to forgiveness. So, as hypocritical as it may be, I decided to keep my sins between me, God, and whoever was in that basement.
“You don’t get to take the moral high ground,” I say with a derisive laugh. “Besides, if walking into this world a year and a half ago taught me anything, it’s that keeping up with the Joneses is the only thing standing between life and death.”
