Chapter 7 - My Mother’s Secret
I drove straight to my mother’s house.
She opened the door and smiled.
“Baby, you look exhausted.”
Then she saw the photograph in my hand.
The smile disappeared.
I stepped inside.
“Who is Denise Cole?”
Mom went silent.
That was all I needed.
I closed the door.
“You knew her.”
She sat slowly on the couch.
“Where did you get that?”
“Terrence.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, God.”
“You knew about him too?”
She shook her head.
“Not at first.”
“When?”
“After you were born.”
My stomach twisted.
“So everybody knew except me?”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“Your father kept everyone in different rooms of the same lie.”
I sat across from her.
“Tell me.”
Mom stared at the photograph.
“I met Denise before I married your father.”
She swallowed.
“She worked at his first store.”
“Were you friends?”
“For a while.”
“What happened?”
“She got pregnant.”
I waited.
Mom continued.
“Your father told me it wasn’t his.”
I laughed bitterly.
“And you believed him.”
“I wanted to.”
Her honesty hurt.
“She left Baltimore. Years later she came back.”
“With Terrence.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
Mom wiped her eyes.
“Your father started seeing them secretly.”
“Were they having an affair?”
“I thought so.”
“Were they?”
“I never knew.”
I placed the photo on the table.
“Terrence said Denise didn’t die in a car accident.”
Mom’s face went white.
I leaned forward.
“What happened?”
She stood.
“Malcolm.”
“What happened?”
She walked toward the kitchen.
I followed.
“Mom.”
She gripped the counter.
“She overdosed.”
The answer hit me.
“On what?”
“Pain medication.”
“Accidentally?”
Mom looked at me.
“No.”
I stopped.
She covered her mouth.
“I found her.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“You?”
“She called me.”
“Why?”
“She wanted someone to take care of Terrence.”
I stared at her.
“He was eighteen?”
“Nineteen.”
“What did Dad do?”
“He panicked.”
“Why?”
“Because Denise left letters.”
I felt cold.
“What letters?”
“She blamed him.”
“For what?”
Mom turned away.
“She said he kept promising Terrence a place in the family and then backing away.”
My anger rose.
“She killed herself because Dad wouldn’t claim his son?”
“It was more complicated.”
“Stop saying that.”
Mom flinched.
I lowered my voice.
“Please.”
She began crying.
“Your father was not a monster.”
“I didn’t say he was.”
“He helped them.”
“Secretly.”
“Yes.”
“He loved Terrence privately.”
“Yes.”
“He protected himself publicly.”
Mom closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
There it was.
The pattern.
Secrets disguised as protection.
Love offered only where nobody could see it.
Maybe that was why Vanessa’s lies hurt so much.
They reminded me of something I had inherited without knowing.
I sat down.
“Why did you keep Dad’s secret?”
Mom whispered, “Because I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Losing everything.”
I stared at her.
She looked ashamed.
“I had you. Then Devin. The house. The store. I told myself Denise was unstable. I told myself Terrence was being taken care of.”
“But you knew.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever speak to him?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“At your wedding.”
My breath caught.
Terrence had come to my wedding.
Mom had seen him.
She had known exactly who he was.
“What did you say?”
“I told him not to ruin your day.”
The words made me stand.
“You what?”
Mom broke down.
“I was scared.”
“He came to watch his brother get married.”
“I didn’t know what he wanted.”
“So you threatened him?”
“No.”
“Then what did ‘don’t ruin his day’ mean?”
She cried.
“I don’t know anymore.”
I walked toward the door.
“Malcolm, please.”
I stopped.
“Do you know why I’m so angry?”
She said nothing.
“Because all of you decided ignorance was kindness.”
I opened the door.
“You didn’t protect me.”
I looked back.
“You protected yourselves from my reaction.”
Then I left.
Outside, Vanessa was parked behind my truck.
I almost laughed.
“Did Mom call you?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
Vanessa got out.
“Can we talk?”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve had two years.”
“I know.”
She came closer.
“I was wrong.”
I stared at her.
That was the first clean sentence she had given me.
No excuse.
No complicated.
No protection.
Just wrong.
“I should have told you about Terrence.”
“Yes.”
“I should have told you about Nia.”
“Yes.”
“I should have told you about the letters.”
“Yes.”
She nodded through tears.
“And Thursday night, I should have come home.”
I looked at her.
“Where were you?”
“At the storage room with Aaron.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
She exhaled.
Then I asked the question still sitting inside me.
“Why did you tell me Terrence collapsed?”
Her face twisted.
“Because I panicked.”
“Why?”
“I knew you had seen the hotel photo.”
I froze.
“How?”
She looked past me.
“There’s someone following us.”
My skin prickled.
“What?”
“Someone photographed me and Aaron going inside.”
“I got the picture.”
“I know.”
“Who sent it?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to find out.”
I stared at her.
“Why would anyone care?”
Vanessa reached into her purse.
She pulled out an envelope.
Inside was a copy of my father’s letter.
Across it, written in red marker, were five words.
STOP DIGGING OR NIA FINDS OUT.
I looked at Vanessa.
May you like
“Who sent this?”
She whispered, “Alicia.”
