Page 95 of Cheater and the Saint
Heath called after me, and I ignored him. Before I got to the front door, though, a hand grabbed my arm. I flung around to tell Heath to leave me the fuck alone, but it wasn’t Heath.
It was my mom.
“Leo,” she said with tears in her eyes. She cupped my cheek. “My baby boy.”
Just like that, I lost it. I could only stay strong for so much shit, and having the mom I always thought hated me treat me like her son for the first time in years, I broke down.
“Oh, son.” Mom wiped away one of my tears before pulling me into a hug. “I wanted this day to go differently. I truly did. I prayed about it for weeks, hoping your father would find love in his heart for you.”
Confused, I leaned back and looked down at her. “But you feel that way, too, don’t you? You hate me.”
“No, I don’t,” she said, holding both of my hands in hers. “God doesn’t want us to hate anyone. I was wrong to ever cast you out the way I did. I wish I could say it’d all been your father, but that would be a lie. I was angry with you, but as the years have passed, I came to see my wrongdoings. A mother should never do to her boy what I did to you. I’m so sorry.”
Heath walked into the living room, his eyes glassy, and when he saw us, he stopped.
“I hope we can make amends someday,” Mom said before looking back at Heath. “All of us. I miss my boys.” Her brown eyes moved back to me, and her expression softened. “I have prayed about this, about finding acceptance of you in my heart, and I feel as though God has answered that prayer. Promise you’ll keep in touch.”
I wasn’t sure how to feel. In the span of twenty or so minutes, I’d gone on a fucking chaotic emotional rollercoaster, and it was like I had a short in my circuit. I felt happy and sad, angry and at peace. I didn’t know whether to hug my mom and tell her I forgave her or to leave and never speak to her again.
“I’ll try.” It was the best I could do.
***
By the time I got back to Fort Smith, I was starving. I’d been too nervous to eat breakfast before leaving that morning, and I hadn’t eaten anything while there. I pulled into McDonald’s and cursed when I saw they were closed.
Thanksgiving, dumbass, I reminded myself. Nearly everything was closed.
The only benefit of the three-hour drive back home was it’d given me a lot of time to think. To sort out the crazy shit in my head before seeing Saint. Dad still wanted nothing to do with me, even though he was dying. Mom, however, had seemed genuinely remorseful. Maybe, with some time, I could let her back into my life.
It was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon, and the roads were mostly empty with the exception of a few cars. People were spending time with their families and a majority of the businesses—sadly, including the fast food places—were closed. It was lonely. Black Friday signs were everywhere, announcing that most of the retail stores would be opening again at seven that evening for all the sales.
Black Friday seemed to get earlier and earlier every year. What happened to them waiting until midnight?
Yeah, I was distracting myself with random thoughts.
Should I go back to the dorm and wait for Saint to come home? I wasn’t really in the mood to be alone, though. So, I called him.
“Hello?” he answered after the second ring.
God. Hearing his voice after the day I’d had was exactly what I needed.
“Hey, Frosty. Um. So, I finished up early, and I’m back in town.”
There was a pause, before he asked, “It went that bad, huh?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
“Do you want to come over? We haven’t eaten yet, but it should be ready in another hour or so.”
Laughter sounded in the background, and my heart warmed. That’s what a holidayshouldbe like. Not cold like the house I’d left.
“That’d be great.”
Saint gave me his mom’s address, and I switched on my blinker to turn down the next road. The colorful trees from fall had started to fade and lose their leaves. Winter had come a little early. The temperature had plummeted all day and was only supposed to get colder.
As I drove through a neighborhood, I was met with bare trees and a scattering of dead leaves blowing across the ground. The sky was gray, but there wasn’t any rain in the forecast. Therewassnow predicated later that night, though, which seemed fitting since some people were already putting Christmas lights on the outside of their homes.
Seeing Saint’s car in the driveway at the end of the street, I pulled up to the curb and parked. Getting out of my truck and walking to the front door was a lot easier that time, probably because I knew I’d receive a warm welcome once inside.
