Page 106 of The Other Side

My eyes dart to the noise from the distance.

Callie emerges from the bathroom door. Her finger is pointing toward the front door as she walks the skinny corridor.

My hands turn the knobs on the sink, and I straighten when she speaks.

“I’ll be right back. I left something in the truck,” she calls.

My expression rests numbly, knowing damn well she didn’t leave anything in there.

But I nod my blessing anyway.

When she disappears out of sight, I dip my attention to the dish towel. I dry my hands as I face my mom. “If there’s one thing I would’ve wanted you to remember, it’s that.”

Her mouth carves into a hesitant smile, and my eyes linger around her face. For a few cycles until I place the cloth down.

“Mom, I don’t blame you. Not anymore.”

A single tear falls from the pocket of her eye, but my thumb swipes it away.

“I know that your drinking had nothing to do with me.” I shake my head, the air in my lungs disintegrating. “There is no resentment, and there is no anger.” Her lower lip trembles in a blend of regret and relief. “I’m almost thirty, Ma. I’m not a kid anymore,” I add. “I know what battles are worth fighting. Hating you is not one of them. It won’t ever be one of them. Okay?”

As soon as she nods, I cup her arm to bring her in for a hug. I snake my arms around her frail frame, my heart sinking when I feel how petite she is.

But I pull her closer.

Inhaling a long and tight breath as I bite my tears back.

My lips plant to the top of her head. Her clean scent steals my senses as she nuzzles closer.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she breathes. “God, I’m so sorry. I hate myself so mu⁠—”

“Shh. I know you are, Momma,” I whisper, propping my chin where my lips just were. “I was never alone. You don’t have to worry if I was or not.” She nods against my chest as her hand covers her face. “Worry about now. Don’t waste all this time you have dwelling on the past. Okay? It’s not worth it. Promise me.”

“Okay, yeah,” Mom sniffles. She’s bringing both palms to her face now, backing away from me. “You have company. I don’t want to do this.”

I offer her a small grin. But chips of my heart fall to the floor as I witness her distress. “Go get comfortable and ready for bed. Callie and I will say goodbye before we leave. We’ll come back tomorrow in the afternoon.”

She nods through a smile, placing a hand on my arm. She turns to walk through the living room, and my attention drags to the light wood of the cabinets.

My breathing deepens when I realize they’re all mounted to the wall. I angle my head down, curling my palms around the edge of the laminate to control the wrath that’s roaring.

I bolt my grip tighter, squashing the urge to rip off every unfastened object in sight.

I’m a prisoner of my past.

My heartache propels with my mom’s anguish. It’s a vicious token passed back and forth between us—a cycle of misery that never terminates.

I eventually lift from the counter, my hands swiping down my face. I exit the front door, greeted with the quiet of the night. My boots pad down the wooden stairs, and I flick my head from right to left.

I round the corner of Mom’s house, the grill of my Tacoma carving from the darkness. Callie’s idled at the side of the bed of the pickup, her forearms tangled on top of the frame. Her cheek pastes to them, and I stroll over to her over the patchy grass.

“Hey, what’re you doin’?” I ask.

Her head lifts when I’m a mere inch from her. “I wanted to give you and your Momma time,” she sighs.

“You could’ve just hung out in the bathroom. Chalked it up to a bad batch of Greek salad or something,” I joke.

She rolls her eyes, peeling herself from the frame of the truck. “I haven’t seen your mom in ten years. I wouldn’t want her thinking I’m blowing up her bathroom during our first reunion.”