saying anything else as we exited the car and headed towards the front door. Tyson was leaning against the wooden railing on the front porch, looking agitated. He’d probably heard me pull up and decided to let us in on whatever hell was raging inside.
Ryder was home and I knew for a fact that he was probably verbally abusing the crap out of our mother. He’d had a deep hatred for her ever since we were growing up. Maybe because he’d been older and remembered a lot more from when she’d been on her downward spiral, or maybe there was so much anger inside him that the only way he knew to direct it was by hating her.
“Ruby’s home,” Tyson said, as a way of greeting.
None of us actually called our mother “Mom”. That word implied a term of endearment; it implied closeness to a person, and that was something we didn’t have with her. So, to us, she was simply Ruby, the woman who had given birth to us.
“Did you guys pick up anything for dinner?” I asked, ignoring what he’d just said and walking inside.
My way of coping with Ruby’s return was to act like nothing had changed. There was no point in getting angry or upset or reacting at all. There was no point in hoping or being happy, because her return would only be temporary. As soon as she found another guy who’d fuck her and buy her nice things, she’d be out of here without a backward glance.
“Yeah, there’s burgers and fries in the kitchen,” Tyson responded, following us into the house. “Have at it.”
It was eerily silent inside—I’d expected to walk into the middle of a shit storm between Ryder and my mother—but it didn’t take me very long to pick out the one thing that didn’t belong in the picture: Ruby.
She sat on the couch with her face buried in her hands. At the sound of approaching footsteps, her head jerked up and she stared at us with bloodshot eyes before jumping to her feet.
“Vin, Dil, my babies!” She hurried to us with arms outstretched as though she expected us to run to her.
That wasn’t going to happen.
As she reached us, I tried not to notice the minor similarities I bore to this woman, particularly the dark eyes and the deep cheekbones. Really, Tyson was the one that looked most like her. She always said that Ryder and me looked like our father, and that Dylan looked like his.
Years of drug and alcohol abuse made Ruby look a lot older than she really was. She was only forty-one, but she looked more like fifty.
Dylan didn’t make a move towards her, but instead grabbed my hand. I squeezed it in a reassuring way, letting him know that I would handle the situation.
“Aren’t you boys gonna hug your momma?” Ruby asked when neither of us said or did anything.
“Are you our momma again? For how long this time?” I asked in a cool tone. “Well, momma , did you know that last month Dylan turned ten?”
Ruby went pale at my words and her smile faltered. “Of course I knew it was my baby’s birthday, but I was so busy, you know? I really tried to make it, but Mikey was just so—”
I raised a hand to silence her, and she flinched almost as though she was scared of me. “I don’t need to know the name of your fuck buddy. I just need to know how long you plan on staying here.”
There was a thick silence, and then Ruby’s lips began to quiver as she turned on the waterworks. “Goddammit, Vincent! H-he beat me up! He wouldn’t even let me get all my stuff! All I got is that one bag!” She gestured to a single suitcase that was propped against the couch. “I got nowhere to go! I got no money, nothing! Baby, don’t you ever go thinking that I don’t love you! I gave birth to you, honey, and there ain’t no love like a mother’s. I know I’ve done stupid shit, but that doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”
Any other person would’ve reacted to their crying, broken mother, but I had no reaction. I had seen this act before, many times, and the only thought that crossed my mind was
Ryder was home and I knew for a fact that he was probably verbally abusing the crap out of our mother. He’d had a deep hatred for her ever since we were growing up. Maybe because he’d been older and remembered a lot more from when she’d been on her downward spiral, or maybe there was so much anger inside him that the only way he knew to direct it was by hating her.
“Ruby’s home,” Tyson said, as a way of greeting.
None of us actually called our mother “Mom”. That word implied a term of endearment; it implied closeness to a person, and that was something we didn’t have with her. So, to us, she was simply Ruby, the woman who had given birth to us.
“Did you guys pick up anything for dinner?” I asked, ignoring what he’d just said and walking inside.
My way of coping with Ruby’s return was to act like nothing had changed. There was no point in getting angry or upset or reacting at all. There was no point in hoping or being happy, because her return would only be temporary. As soon as she found another guy who’d fuck her and buy her nice things, she’d be out of here without a backward glance.
“Yeah, there’s burgers and fries in the kitchen,” Tyson responded, following us into the house. “Have at it.”
It was eerily silent inside—I’d expected to walk into the middle of a shit storm between Ryder and my mother—but it didn’t take me very long to pick out the one thing that didn’t belong in the picture: Ruby.
She sat on the couch with her face buried in her hands. At the sound of approaching footsteps, her head jerked up and she stared at us with bloodshot eyes before jumping to her feet.
“Vin, Dil, my babies!” She hurried to us with arms outstretched as though she expected us to run to her.
That wasn’t going to happen.
As she reached us, I tried not to notice the minor similarities I bore to this woman, particularly the dark eyes and the deep cheekbones. Really, Tyson was the one that looked most like her. She always said that Ryder and me looked like our father, and that Dylan looked like his.
Years of drug and alcohol abuse made Ruby look a lot older than she really was. She was only forty-one, but she looked more like fifty.
Dylan didn’t make a move towards her, but instead grabbed my hand. I squeezed it in a reassuring way, letting him know that I would handle the situation.
“Aren’t you boys gonna hug your momma?” Ruby asked when neither of us said or did anything.
“Are you our momma again? For how long this time?” I asked in a cool tone. “Well, momma , did you know that last month Dylan turned ten?”
Ruby went pale at my words and her smile faltered. “Of course I knew it was my baby’s birthday, but I was so busy, you know? I really tried to make it, but Mikey was just so—”
I raised a hand to silence her, and she flinched almost as though she was scared of me. “I don’t need to know the name of your fuck buddy. I just need to know how long you plan on staying here.”
There was a thick silence, and then Ruby’s lips began to quiver as she turned on the waterworks. “Goddammit, Vincent! H-he beat me up! He wouldn’t even let me get all my stuff! All I got is that one bag!” She gestured to a single suitcase that was propped against the couch. “I got nowhere to go! I got no money, nothing! Baby, don’t you ever go thinking that I don’t love you! I gave birth to you, honey, and there ain’t no love like a mother’s. I know I’ve done stupid shit, but that doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”
Any other person would’ve reacted to their crying, broken mother, but I had no reaction. I had seen this act before, many times, and the only thought that crossed my mind was
Similar Books
