Chapter 4 - The Night My Mother Ran
Mom wouldn’t talk in the parking lot.
We went to Jordan’s house.
His mother, Mrs. Brooks, didn’t ask many questions when she saw our faces.
She simply unlocked the basement guest room and said, “Whatever is happening, nobody gets through my front door without meeting me first.”
Under any other circumstances, I might have smiled.
That night, I couldn’t.
Mom sat on the edge of the couch.
David stood near the stairs.
Jordan remained beside me.
I looked at Mom.
“Tell me.”
She wiped her eyes.
“You were nine.”
I remembered being nine.
Third grade.
Baseball.
A blue bicycle.
Dad teaching me to shave even though I didn’t have anything to shave.
“I had decided to leave your father,” Mom said.
“Why?”
She stared at her hands.
“Because I was afraid of him.”
I wanted to reject the words immediately.
Dad had never hit me.
Never even spanked me.
He had taken me fishing.
Bought me birthday presents.
Taught me how to throw a curveball.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.”
“You stayed with him six more years.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because leaving him was more dangerous than staying.”
Silence filled the room.
Mom took a breath.
“I found accounts I didn’t recognize. Credit cards in my name. Loans I never signed for.”
Like the insurance transfer.
My stomach tightened.
“When I confronted Thomas, he told me I was confused.”
“That sounds like Dad.”
I hated saying it.
Mom nodded.
“He did that often. He would move things and tell me I misplaced them. Spend money and say I had forgotten buying something. Tell you I had agreed to things I had never heard about.”
Fragments of childhood rearranged themselves in my head.
Dad telling me Mom forgot promises.
Dad laughing about Mom’s memory.
Dad saying, “Don’t upset your mother. She gets confused.”
I sat down.
“One night I packed two bags,” Mom continued. “One for me. One for you.”
Her voice cracked.
“I planned to take you to my sister Rebecca’s house.”
“Aunt Rebecca?”
Mom nodded.
I had not seen Aunt Rebecca in years.
“Thomas came home early.”
“What did he do?”
Mom looked at David.
David’s face hardened.
“He took your car keys,” he said.
Mom continued.
“He locked the doors. Then he sat at the kitchen table and told me exactly what would happen if I left.”
I swallowed.
“What?”
“He said he would report the car stolen because it was in his name. He said he would show the court medical records proving I was unstable.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“Then how could he have records?”
“He had convinced a doctor I was suffering from depression and memory problems.”
I remembered Mom taking pills when I was little.
Dad used to hand them to her.
Cold crawled down my spine.
“Were those real prescriptions?”
“Yes. But I didn’t need half of them.”
I looked away.
Mom’s voice became smaller.
“He told me he would get custody of you.”
My chest tightened.
“And I believed him.”
“You should have told someone.”
“I tried.”
“Who?”
“Your grandfather.”
David looked down.
Mom continued.
“He told me Thomas had a temper but loved his family. He told me not to destroy your life over marital problems.”
Anger sparked inside me.
“So you stayed.”
“I stayed.”
She looked at me.
“For you.”
I hated those words.
Not because I didn’t believe her.
Because I was beginning to.
“Why did Dad text me about it?”
David answered.
“Because he knows secrets are weapons when you reveal only half of them.”
My phone buzzed again.
Nobody moved.
Then I checked it.
Dad had sent an audio file.
PLAY THE RECORDING, MARCUS.
Mom stood.
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because he wants you upset.”
“I’m already upset.”
I pressed play.
Mom’s voice came from eight years earlier.
“You can’t keep me here, Thomas.”
Then Dad’s voice.
“You can walk out anytime.”
Mom again.
“I’m taking Marcus.”
Dad laughed softly.
“No, you’re not.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“You’re unstable, Elaine. Everyone knows it.”
“Because you told them that!”
“I have doctors who agree.”
A long silence.
Then Mom said something that made me stop breathing.
“If anything happens to me, David knows.”
The recording ended.
I looked toward David.
“You were involved back then?”
“No.”
“But she said your name.”
David stared at Mom.
She closed her eyes.
“I had found an old letter.”
“What letter?”
“One David sent after you were born.”
David looked surprised.
“You kept it?”
“I hid it.”
Mom looked at me.
“David warned me that your father was dangerous.”
“So you knew?”
“Not at first. Thomas told me David was obsessed with ruining him.”
David let out a bitter laugh.
“And she believed my charming little brother.”
“For a while.”
“What changed?” I asked.
“The night I tried to leave.”
Mom stood and walked toward the basement window.
“Thomas found the letter.”
I waited.
“He burned it in the kitchen sink.”
“What happened after the recording?”
Mom’s shoulders shook.
“He took you upstairs.”
My heartbeat increased.
“Why?”
“To prove he controlled the situation.”
“What did he do to me?”
“Nothing physically.”
She turned.
“He woke you up and asked you a question.”
I searched my memories.
Nothing.
Then something came.
Dad sitting on my bed.
Mom crying downstairs.
His hand on my shoulder.
“Do you remember?” she asked.
My mouth went dry.
“He asked whether I wanted to stay with him or go live with you somewhere else.”
Mom nodded.
“What did I say?”
She smiled through tears.
“You said you wanted both of us.”
I remembered more.
Dad laughing.
Dad telling me Mom wanted to break our family apart.
Me running downstairs.
Me screaming at her.
Don’t leave Dad!
My face burned.
“I begged you to stay.”
“You were nine.”
“I called you selfish.”
“You were nine, Marcus.”
I stood abruptly.
“I helped him trap you.”
Mom rushed toward me.
“No.”
“I did.”
She grabbed my face between her hands.
“Listen to me. You were a child. He used your love for both of us. That belongs to him, not you.”
I started crying.
I couldn’t stop it.
Mom pulled me against her.
For the first time since she had thrown me out, I hugged her back.
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
We stayed like that until my phone rang.
Unknown number.
David took it from my hand.
“Don’t answer.”
Then his own phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face changed.
“What?” Mom asked.
David answered.
“Detective Ramirez?”
He listened.
Then his expression went blank.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Are you sure?”
He ended the call.
Mom stepped toward him.
“What happened?”
David looked at me.
“The police found Aaron Pike’s car.”
My stomach dropped.
“Where?”
David swallowed.
“On property your father still owns.”
Mom covered her mouth.
But David wasn’t finished.
“There was something in the trunk.”
“What?”
May you like
He looked directly at me.
“My old service pistol.”
