Page 60 of The Hangman's Rope

“Why not?” she asked.

I shrugged a little helplessly and said, “He wanted me to try. Thought home was the best place for me… but mom, I feel soweirdbeing here. Like a – a – a – stranger in my own house kind of a thing. Like I’m not really me, but like one of those old Irish myth babies that were put in place of the real one.”

“A changeling,” she supplied and I nodded rapidly.

“What can I do?” she asked.

I shook my head and sighed.

“I don’t know. I don’t think anyone can do anything, to be honest.”

We sat in silence for a while and she heaved a big sigh.

“Honey, you’re twenty-four years old… you’re not a child anymore even though you’ll always be my baby girl. I just want what’s best for you and I don’t know anything about this man but…” she paused in what she was saying and looked like something occurred to her, “What’s his name?” she asked.

I felt myself blush and said, “Don’t be upset, but I honestly don’t know his real name. Just his nickname or whatever and it’s probably going to sound really bad.”

“In for a penny, in for a pound,” she said and looked like she steeled herself for whatever it was.

“His friends call him Hangman and he, um, he’s an Iron Wraith.”

She stared at me, shocked, and gave a slow blink.

“Lorelai!”she cried and I tilted my head.

“Mom, you promised you’d keep an open mind!” I said just as sharply and she held up her hands in surrender.

“You’re right, you’re right,” she said and yet she huffed out a great sigh and asked, “If he means so much to you, why haven’t you contacted him?”

I looked back at the business card and took it up in my hands, staring at the block numbers in bold black font on its front.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I guess, to some extent, I wanted to make some progress or, I guess, have something to show for myself in the way of progress before I did.”

I swallowed hard and said, “I guess I wanted him to be proud of me.”

“Just how old is this man?” she asked.

I shrugged.

“Thirties, maybe… it never really came up in general conversation.”

My mother was trying her best, but I could see this wasn’t going great… I mean, I probably sounded like a fucking lunatic but hey, Ifeltlike a raving lunatic so I guess there was that.

“This is really hard for me,” I murmured and my mother’s face did that thing again where it went from lines of suspicion mixed with deep concern only to crumble into what can only be described as devastation on my behalf.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t say anything about Julie… I never would have invited her over here if I’d known she’d done that to you.”

I swallowed hard, and said, “I don’t know why I didn’t say anything either… I guess maybe I just didn’t think that I would be believed maybe? I don’t know.”

“Oh, honey, why would you think I wouldn’t believe you about something like that?” she asked and she looked hurt.

I felt my shoulder slump and a tiredness that had nothing to do with anything physical wash over me.

“I can’t tell you how many times I told the police the same thing over and over and I honestly don’t feel like they believed me, either.”

She sighed and shook her head.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I feel like I’m failing you at every turn when all I want to do is help.”

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