Page 45 of Love Sick

“Of course.”

I lean across the table as I don’t want anyone overhearing us. “The day of Misha’s…funeral, you wanted to tell me something. Do you remember?”

The moment Trista lowers her eyes, I know that she does. “I don’t think—”

“Please, Trista, I need your help. I think Misha was hiding a secret and—”

“He was,” she softly interrupts, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “He never wanted you to know, but he started hearing voices quite young and to deal with those voices, he started taking drugs to help silence them. To help feed his addiction, he got into dealing, and as you can imagine, it just got worse.”

I feel like an utter failure. How did I not know this? He was my son, and I failed to see his struggles.

“Why didn’t he tell me? I would have helped him.”

“He was embarrassed. And he didn’t want to worry you. He loved you so much. I think it was a struggle he wanted to overcome himself. But he just fell deeper and deeper in. He also told me that a woman he was seeing wouldn’t leave him alone.

“It was a mistake,” she’s quick to add while my mouth falls open. “But he said she knew a secret.”

“A secret about him? And who was the woman?”

Trista shrugs, but when she bites her lip, I know there’s more. “I think it had to do with his dad.”

Images of Jonathan in that hospital bed, shriveled and so…dead is something I wish Icouldforget. “Is there anything else you can share with me?”

Reaching into her bag, she retrieves a pen and paper and writes something down. She slides it across the table to me. I see it’s an address.

“This is where he would go to score his drugs.”

My heart breaks. How could I have been so blind? My son was struggling and the one person who should have been there for him, wasn’t…because I didn’t know.

“You were a good mother, Ms. Huxley.” Trista reaches for my hand, squeezing it kindly as she can clearly read my thoughts. “You were Misha’s world because he was yours. You were often mistaken for his older sister, something his friends used to tease him about because you were the mom they wanted to—”

Her pause has me smiling because I can fill in the blanks.

A memory smashes into me—it’s when Misha was at school. I remember his principle not believing I was his mother because I looked about ten years younger than my age. I still do. When I proved I was in fact Misha’s mom, the principle’s tune soon changed and he asked me out on a date.

Misha made sure that didn’t happen. He was so protective of me. Our bond was so special.

Tears well, but I brush them away. “Thank you for meeting with me. I really appreciate it. Do you think you could keep this between us?”

She places her fingers to her lips and performs a lock and throwing away the key gesture. My secret is safe.

I fold the piece of paper and place it into my pocket. “I’ve got to go.”

Each second being here is a risk.

“Will I see you again?” she asks, and I understand why she seems so sad.

When we lose someone we love, seeing another person who loved them just as much as you did tends to help heal the wounds, if only for a moment. It’s a bond that is forever shared.

So I reply as honestly as I can. “I hope so.”

I leave the diner and run to Kyle’s car where he waits for me. I open the door and jump in because it’s still raining.

“My father is expecting us.” His dry tone reveals this won’t be a happy reunion.

The radio fills the silence as Kyle drives.

I wonder if I should tell him about the address Trista gave me. My gut is telling me to keep it a secret. I don’t know why, but I decide to trust it. I’m not even sure what I expect to find if I do go there.

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