Page 47 of The Sculptor

Distant.

Detached.

I’ve finally severed the last line to his heart.

He’s letting me go.

And there’s nothing worth that pain—not even the secret I’m keeping.

I reach for his shirt, barely grabbing on as he backs away. “Langston knows where he is!”

Duke pauses, silence filling the small space around us. “Langston knows wherewhois, Ray?”

“I tried to protect you. I wanted to be sure before I brought you into this fight.” I drop his shirt and crumble to the floor as gut-wrenching sobs take over. “But you just couldn’t let it go. You couldn’t trust me.”

“What are you protecting me from, Ray?” His voice sounds softer, comforting, like he’s handling someone unstable as he squats down.

Maybe I am unstable, but the fact remains the same. “You saved our son that night,” I say carefully as Duke springs up, already backing up like I spit on him.

“No, I didn’t,” he argues. “He died at the hospital.”

Tears streak from my eyes as I watch him battle the images we both lived with. The doctor coming out and shaking his head. Me falling to the floor. And Duke… standing motionless.

I reach out for his hand, but he doesn’t take it. He’s looking at me like I’m a stranger, not the mother of his child or the love of his life. “No, Ray. You’re wrong. You’re confused. Jude died.”

“I’m not wrong,” I tell him, with every fiber of my being. “Our son is alive, Duke. And Langston knows where he is.”

Ramsey

“Iknow what you’re thinking,” I plead as he steps back, shutting me out with bitter coldness. “And I get it. You have no right to trust what I’m saying or the source of this information. We both know I didn’t have a good relationship with my parents.”

I hated my father for forcing me to be his political prop and my mother for allowing it.

“But you should know that I kept your promise.”

Tears streak down my face as I follow Duke into the room. “You asked me to remember, and I did. I remembered the family we had and the family we lost.”

I hit my chest with my palm—passion coursing through me like a tsunami. “I remembered, Duke! Me! I didn’t move on. I didn’t quit because I remembered!”

I’m breathing heavily, watching the twitch in Duke’s hand. I can’t tell if he wants to reach for me or cover my mouth. Either way, it’s my turn to talk.

“I came back for you!”

This time, I scream. “I played the part of the congressman’s dutiful daughter. I showed up. I smiled and shook hands, but I never forgot. When you were in rehab, I was with you!” I tap my chest. “I was with you here. I never left you—not once. But your brothers…”

I shake my head, remembering Vance’s stern warning.“If you love him, let him move on. Your presence will only remind him of his addiction.”

Vance had thought Duke was in rehab for an addiction to pain meds that he reportedly stole from his father’s office. But he wasn’t. We did steal supplies and medicines, but it was never pain medication or an addiction. We only took what we thought we might need to deliver a baby on our own: fluids, antibiotics, and the like. The pain med addiction story was concocted by our fathers to account for why we missed the last few months of school and ran away.

Two drug-addicted kids getting high apparently made better headlines than two teenagers running away to have a baby alone because they lied and told their fathers they aborted it.

“Vance thought me coming back into your life would set you back,” I tell him, “but still…” I suck in a breath, gathering my strength. “But still, I stayed with you through the winter, painting you from afar. You delivering pizzas. You studying for finals.”

I was a super stalker back then, watching Duke in college.

But that’s what you do for the people you love. He was hurting. So was I. I only wanted to be close to him.

A tear drips down my hand. “I was with you—until the spring.”

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