Page 8 of Long Road Home

Everything Jordan had said to me was true.

I had grown up and turned into my mother, minus the drug addiction and child abandonment. But I certainly had her selfishness and self-destructive patterns nailed to a T.

I’d finished boxingup the photos and chicken parmesan was baking in the oven. All of the pictures were going into storage except a small handful of my favorite photos of Tillie and me when I was younger, and the prom picture I couldn’t bring myself to toss into the trash.

I wrapped a serving platter in newspaper and stuffed that into the bottom of a new box, figuring I should pack up the kitchen since I was in there anyway.

Three years ago, I had all new appliances delivered to Tillie for her Christmas present. I’d been thoughtful, choosing mid-line, white appliances instead of the high-end stainless steel ones I’d wanted her to have. When it came to Tillie, I wanted her to have the best. Yet I knew she’d think that was frivolous and unnecessary.

When it came to Tillie though, nothing was frivolous. I owed her everything. I owed her my life considering she took me in and raised me after my mom abandoned me in our dilapidated apartment, strapped into a car seat with nothing more than a small package of diapers and enough formula to last for one more feeding.

If I could have updated the mustard-colored Formica countertops circa 1975 with granite or marble, I would have done that for her too, but she’d insisted what she had worked for her. I’d pushed my luck with the appliances, so I held back.

That was going to be her Christmas present this year.

I sniffed away the emotions brought by that thought and pressed my palms into the countertop. She taught me all about baking and cooking in that very same spot, and as I closed my eyes, memories of me as a little girl, coming home with my hair pulled out of my braids and tears running down my cheeks assaulted me.

“It’s stupid. Girls are stupid.”

“Tell me all about it. But don’t say stupid. Name-calling isn’t nice.”

I sniffed again, flinching as Grandma rubbed alcohol on my skinned knees. Girls were stupid. At least the ones I knew were. Grandma Tillie wasn’t so bad, though. “My name is stupid, too.”

She blew on my knees and like always, the sting burned worse before it got better. “Your mama gave you that name because she knew you were destined for great things, girl. Take hold of that and live it.”

“The girls say their mamas say I’m destined to end up like Mama. That’s why she gave me that, so everyone would always know I’m gonna be like her.”

“You ain’t ever going to be like your mama, sweetheart.” Her cool hands pressed to my cheeks. “Your mama had problems she couldn’t beat, and it’s too bad because she’s missing out. But I was there the day you were born and when she named you. She looked at you and kissed your forehead and she had said, ‘I want my girl to be everything I’m not. That’s her destiny.’ So you see, she loved you more than anything.”

“Then why’d she leave?”

Like always when I asked about Mama, Grandma’s lips thinned. “Some problems take strength and your mama never thought she had it. But you do, sweetheart. You’ve got all the strength inside of you to live like she wanted. No matter how hard it is, you don’t ever give up, okay?”

A loud knock on my front door, loud enough to rattle the windows, jolted me out of that memory and I spun, hurrying to the front door.

Upstairs, Toby’s music still blared even though I’d given him a twenty-minute warning on dinner.

Without looking, I gripped my hand on the knob and right as another pound hit the front door, I yanked it open.

And shit. I should have peeked.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Rebecca Marx shouted right in my face.

God, I couldn’t escape them. What next? His mom would be right behind probably, threatening me and trying to get me to take off like she’d always done.

My heart raced at Indy500 speeds and I blocked her way from getting inside. Rebecca was a couple years older than Jordan. The girls in her grade had been some of the meanest to me. Rebecca didn’t participate much, but she still made it clear she thought I was trash and not good enough for her brother. She’d also had no problems standing by and letting their torture happen. When Jordan and I started dating she’d stopped some of it, but only because it looked bad for Jordan. I was pretty certain the day I disappeared she and her mom threw one helluva celebration party.

The last thing I needed was Rebecca showing up at my door screaming in my face.

“He has a son? And you never told him? And you think you can bring him back here without letting any of us know and what? You’re going to steal off into the night again and not give my brother a chance to know his son? Do you know what he’s going to do when he finds out?”

“Jesus, Rebecca,” I whispered. I whipped my head in the direction of the stairs and cringed. She had to be shouting louder than Toby’s music. “Can you stop screaming?”

“Answer me!”

“How do you know?” She hadn’t been at the funeral. But shit… blood rushed from my face, chilling me to my bones. “Jordan—”

“He doesn’t know. I figured it out. He took a picture of your kid walking away from him. Only Jordan would be dumb enough to not realize that kid looks almost exactly like him.”

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