Page 139 of In The Game

“Okay, Mom,” he answers, before scurrying off to the bedroom.

My fingers fumble as I work to unlock my phone and tap out a message to Barrett.

Me: I know you’re busy training, but can you please come home? My mom showed up and I need you to get Arthur and take him to your mom’s while I figure out why she’s here.

Barrett: Why?

Me: Because I don’t want her around him.

Barrett: No, why is she there Raleigh???

Me: I don’t know, but I don’t trust her and I don’t want her around Arthur.

Barrett: Are you safe? Can you leave?

I’ve told Barrett about my history with my mom. That she’s never forgiven me for chasing off her cash-cow boyfriend after I reported him to the social worker at school. How she accused me of trying to seduce him. The fight that sent me running. I can still hear her yelling, see her pointing at me with a cigarette between her fingers as she told me I ruined her life the day he ran off. That she chose a rich sexual predator over her child’s safety. It wasn’t until I had a son that I started to see my childhood through the lens of motherhood. Now I know how truly fucked up my upbringing was.

Barrett’s not a fan.

Me: I’m acting normal and keeping things civil until you can get him out of here. I don’t want her to become angry and put him in danger.

Barrett: Already on my way.

“I’ve only been in a car for twenty hours, but please, continue your texting. That’s more important than your own mother.”

“Mom, I’m sure you traveled a great distance, but I wish you would have called instead—wait how did you even know I was here?” She curls her lip up at me, not liking that response.

“Unbelievable. I’m trying to have a relationship with you, and this is your reaction, Raleigh Jean? Still ungrateful for all I’ve sacrificed for you.”

She means themenshe’s sacrificed for me. The ones who would track me with their eyes when I was only fourteen. Her presence triggers the repressed memories.

“Why now? Why after all this time?” Then it dawns on me. She found me at Barrett’s. Is she still keeping tabs on my Instagram?

I don’t know what my mom has up her sleeve, but it must be motivated by money. If she saw the photo of Barrett and me in Hawaii, now she’s seeing dollar signs. Whatever she’s up to, it’s bad news—and sure as fuck isn’t to see her grandson.

“I thought you would be happy to see me, what’s it been, eight years? Jesus, you think you could come home once in a blue moon. Looks like you can afford the plane ticket.” Her eyes glance up to the sparkling chandelier over the table.

Taking a deep breath, I relax my hands. I can’t let the conversation escalate. Not until Arthur is gone. For now, I make an attempt at small talk. She follows me into the kitchen. I gesture for her to have a seat at the table.

“No thanks, I’ve been sitting a while in the car. I’ll stand.”

“How was the drive?” We regard each other without blinking. Heaviness hangs in the air, the tension expanding wall to wall.

Pursing her lips, she bobs her head slowly. “Slower than a bread wagon with biscuit wheels,” she deadpans. She’s trying to get in my head. Make me feel small. I won’t do it. And I won’t feel bad for not coming home. Why would I?

“Where’s Jerry?” Her latest boyfriend.

She rolls her eyes. “Where do you think? Thought I taught you better than to ask stupid questions.Men. Always. Leave.Except in your case, I see.” She looks around the kitchen. “Lucky you.” She points to the smart fridge. “That’s a pretty fancy fridge. Must be nice…”

“Hm.” I stare back.

“Better enjoy it while it lasts.”

“It’s a new fridge. It’s going to last.”

Her scoff is like nails on a chalkboard. It’s so patronizing. “Don’t play dumb. Things these days aren’t built like they used to be. Just because it’s new and shiny doesn't mean it will last. I get new refrigerators every couple years. They all break eventually. Or your kid’ll break ’em.” She shrugs.

“Stop it, Mom,” I snap.

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