Page 28 of When the Smoke Clears

I recall my conversation with Mother when I called to tell her James and I had eloped. She’d asked if I was pregnant and I was horrified that she thought so little of me, despite my wild nature. Then I got pregnant with Maci during our honeymoon and all but confirmed her initial thoughts. I’m not sure she ever believed me. No wonder they say you become your parents. “I just want you to do things the right way.”

“That’s a conversation for another time.” She brushes me off, annoyed, and redirects the conversation. “The guy…he’s not very nice. Well, wasn’t.”

I tap the side table with my nails.

“Has Alan gotten any bad news lately?” she asks abruptly.

I steal another look at the camera. Nothing blinks, or otherwise changes, to indicate if he’s watching. I’m suddenly thankful there’s no sound included. “I haven’t heard from him in close to a week, since he left town for business.”

Early in our relationship, we worked out the kinks of me calling while he’s away. He can’t usually get out of meetings, so it always made more sense for him to call when he’s available. He’s usually quite busy when he’s gone though, so the calls are rare. I don’t pretend to be interested in pharmaceutical sales, and he doesn’t attempt to tell me much about work.

Silence from Maci is usually an indication of worry. Or that she’s ignoring me, which she does well. I’m about to tell her to get on with it when she continues. “This man…he was Alan’s son.”

“Colt?” Two estranged family members in one weekend? That seems too coincidental.

I seem to have unknowingly confirmed something for her. She grunts a “Yes.”

“You know him?” I ask, despite her saying as much. I never met Colt. While Alan and I dated, their relationship was strained. After we moved, Alan all but forbade me from speaking of him. Once, I asked one too many questions and Alan gave me a bruise that lasted for a long weekend after his temper got away from him. Colt never came up in conversation with Maci for that reason.

Maybe she could’ve asked about him more, but she avoided Alan and anything pertaining to him like the plague. She has always been on edge with him, like a dog that distrusts someone based on something only it can sense.

Her breathing is audible now. “I knew him.”

My eyebrows pinch. “Maci, get on with it. Tell me what happened. I don’t understand.” Her rising panic is fueling my own, dredging up too many unwanted memories.

“Colt and I met after Nana passed. Let’s just say, he was a Class-A asshole. Unfortunately, his behavior escalated. He attacked me at Nana’s house.”

I stare at the plush, beige carpet, trying to process what she’s said. Maci quiets, but I can’t bring myself to respond.

“He stabbed me. After a very lengthy discussion where he told me that he was the person who attacked you and me in the parking lot ten years ago.”

The pounding of my heart in my ears threatens to drown her out, and the room begins to spin.

Maci prompts, “Are you listening?”

“I…” Is this a heart attack? My arm doesn’t hurt, and I think I’m too young, but something low in my chest threatens to burst. “Colt attacked us?”

“Yes.” Maci’s voice softens. “He thought you and I were taking everything from him. But his plan to teach us a lesson backfired. I’m not even sure what he wanted to achieve. Anyway, he claimed that Alan knew he was the one to attack us and that Alan told him off and never contacted him again.”

My marriage with Alan wasn’t exactly a love match, but surely he would’ve told me if his son was disturbed. Right?

“Did he ever say anything?” Maci’s tone is insistent, pressing for answers. Answers I don’t have.

Something breaks in me. How do I always manage to choose wrong? Every single choice I’ve made. “No! Nothing!”

“There’s more to this story, but I need to know you can get out of there.” Maci’s voice is muddled.

“What? Get out of where?”

“I’m worried for your safety, Mom.”

Mom.

“Maci?”

Her voice is laced with tears. “He was going to kill me. I shot him. It was the only way...”

The room is a spinning blur. My hand flies to my mouth. “Oh my God. Is he dead?”

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