Page 82 of Dead Love
“Oh, hush.” She shook her head. “Don’t worry about that right now. Let’s focus on figuring out the bill of sale first.” She squeezed my hands. “And I’ve got something else!” She pulled an object from her purse: a brand new smartphone.
A phone.
“I know, I know,” my mother giggled, “I swore I’d never let you have a phone, but,” her voice cracked, and she closed her eyes, holding back tears. When she opened them again, her eyes were glossy, but she was still smiling. “I talked to your father about it. He said that if you had a phone on you, we might have been able to track you better. Or at least see who you had been in contact with. But because you didn’t have a phone, we didn’t know where to start.” The tears finally fell down her cheeks. I put my hands on her shoulders.
“Mom,” I said quietly. “A cell phone wouldn’t have saved me.”
“I know,” she sighed. “But what if it could have helped? What if it’s my fault that you were gone for so long?”
The woman who had seemed like the anchor that held our small family down, seemed so frail right then. My throat ached seeing her like that.
“Please, Kora,” she started again, “Forgive me.” She forced the tears down, then grabbed my hands, squeezing my fingers. “I realized maybe I can’t control the world anymore. Maybe you need more ways to help yourself.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. She really believed that, but I knew that part of it may have been to protect herself from losing me again. But that didn’t matter either. None of it mattered.
I hugged her.
“I love you,” she murmured.
“I love you too, Mom.”
She handed me my purse. “Call me when you get there.”
“Of course.”
I walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind me. And for the first time in my life, there was no one there besides me.
Punica was a small town, so I was able to ask the concierge how to walk to the police station. It was a sunny day and the warmth soothed me. I had missed it. For a second, I closed my eyes, letting the rays rest on my cheeks, thinking of Sarah, Bernie, and Ulysses barking at my feet. Then Vincent’s gaze consuming me. I shook my head, pushing those thoughts away. I swallowed the pain in the back of my throat and forced myself to think of my mother, one of the only important people in my life. As screwed up as she might have been, she was obsessed with my safety. Even if it hurt her, she would always love and protect me.
But then my mind was back inside of Vincent’s studio, surrounded by those paintings ofme.My body tangled in rope. Bowing before him. Lying on my back, my hands folded on my stomach, ready for a casket.
He was like that too, wasn’t he?Obsessed with me.Maybe I wasn’t safe with him like I was with my mother, but I was still alive.
But was that love? I wasn’t sure anymore.
The clerk told me the sheriff would be right out. And because the clerk was on the phone with her head buried in the computer, no one noticed when I walked past the front desk. I cautiously made my way toward that hallway for the holding cells. I don’t know why. I hadn’t planned to see him, just my father.
“You’re already bored with your ivory tower?” Vincent asked, his voice loud and aggressive. His eyes were sunken, his skin oily. “But you’re too scared to let go of your easy little life.” He shook his head, disgusted with me. “You’re weak.”
I came closer, drawn to him. Those words meant nothing. And yet, a part of me knew that what he said was true. I was closer than I had ever been to getting what I thought I wanted. I was supposed to be content.
But he was right. I felt empty. Weak.
His lips turned. “You’re happy with being numb. Never going after anything you want.”
I shook my head. Even after everything he had done, he had the nerve to ridicule me. When he was the one who deserved cruelty.
But there was so much that he didn’t know about me. And I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of why I was there. Not yet. I stared into his dark eyes.
“You’re wrong about me,” I said.
He blinked, and I put my hands on the bars, looking up at him, unafraid. He opened his mouth to speak.
“There you are!” my father shouted. “Is he giving you trouble?”
As I whipped around to face Sheriff Mike, my ring knocked into the metal, the loud bang vibrating through me. I flushed with heat and forced myself to smile.
“It’s fine, Dad,” I said. “Really.”
