Page 50 of The Rebel
Mom ruffled my hair before pushing me off of her shoulder and totally ignoring my words. “Hey, why don’t we have your friends over on Sunday morning? We can make it an English breakfast and watch the game together.”
Her ability to switch subjects was astounding. “No way,” I said.
“No? Why not?”
“They’ll be too distracting. Lucy and Vic won’t watch, they’ll talk all the way through it. They’ll just be annoying.”
“Okay, okay,” Mom pacified with a forced laugh. “We’ll stick to dinner.”
“Yes.” I stood up and stretched, trying to make eye contact. “Thanks Mom.”
“Thankyou,” Mom said, but she blotted her eyes again.
I picked up a pillow that had fallen to the floor and tossed it back on the couch. “See you in the morning.”
“Goodnight Jade,” she said.
I walked into the hallway as Valencia’s door clicked shut. I looked back in at Mom, cursing myself for mentioning Dad’s parents, but the ongoing saga couldn’t continue indefinitely, could it? Now I’d added more misery to her world of pain and loss—but when would it end?
Or, did it ever end?
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Mornings were always hectic, more so when I’d tossed and turned all night and woke up a couple of times and couldn’t getback to sleep. The issue with Gramma and Pops haunted me and played on my mind. And in the next few weeks it would likely rear its ugly head, with Dad’s birthday coming up again.
You’d think that when someone dies, you’d forget about their birthday, because when you’re dead you can’t actually get any older, therefore your birthday is a moot point. But I learned that birthdays of those who have passedarestill remembered. Last year Dad would have been 44, and next week, he’d be 45. Gramma had reached out on that day, the first contact since the funeral. It was an email asking Mom if we’d like to celebrate Dad’s birthday together, his first since he’d died.
Mom said a lot of words she didn’t normally say, and Kristin Reid had come over and they’d drunk several bottles of wine. I remembered Mr. Reid driving around to pick Kristin up because she didn’t want to attempt to climb the fence home. Needless to say, Mom never replied to Gramma and Pops’ email and, in fact, blocked them, as she had their phone numbers and Facebook profiles.
Now, here’s the thing. June 10 was the first anniversary of Dad’s death. So, it appears that when you die, your loved ones now have two special dates to remember you on—your birthday and your deathday. And that was when Gramma reached out for a second time. Though this time it was in the form of a handwritten letter.
Ollie had been the one who opened it as it had been addressed to The Sinclair Family. The plain card had been written in Gramma’s cursive script, asking how we were and hoping school was all good.
We miss Alex so much and think about you all every day. We hope that we can put the past behind us and move on together, in Alex’s memory. Love always, Elise and Graham (Gramma & Pops)
Well, I thought it had been a perfectly good letter, but Mom had shrieked and called Kristin again, but also Trina Wheeler and Laura Carter, and not only did the wine bottles come out, but bourbon and vodka flowed too. It was messy.
Thankfully, Ollie had gone to the Wheelers for a sleepover and didn’t have to witness the commotion, but I did. And the recurring point that Mom made over and over, was that there wasno apology. Not one expression of sorrow, no remorse, no contrition,not even a simple ‘Sorry.’
Kristin, Trina and Laura heartily agreed that it was unacceptable and without a doubt, Gramma and Pops were in the wrong, the villains. It was unanimous that Mom had been treated badly and their weak attempt to reconnect did not cut it. There would be no reconciliation, no forgiveness. Ever. End of story.
Mom had cut them from our lives and that was that. Game over. Ties severed. As if they never existed. Dead to us.
But I now questioned how well Mom was coping. Time heals grief, so they say, but Mom getting emotional last night and snapping at the mention of Gramma and Pops indicated wounds were still fresh, that pain lingered and tormented, and until there was a resolution, I suspected it would always be this way for Mom, unable to fully move on.
Mom called me her rock, her pillar of strength. I needed to step up. Because losing Dad shouldn’t have meant losing his family as well. My loyalty was stretched and I was in a precarious position, but I had a feeling there would always be pain if we couldn’t move through this.
Chapter 14
VALENCIA
The silky notes of my ringtone had me frantically pulling my phone from its charger on the bed stand. Bleary eyed, I had a crazy hope it was Gabby offering me a ride to school, but I saw Mom’s name and answered with a croaky, “Mom?”
“Good morning. Guess I’ve woken you. Sorry it’s so early, but we’re just about to head out to the courts, so I thought I best catch you now.”
“It’s okay,” I said, clearing my throat and sitting up against my pillows, the small crack in the curtains revealing it was still dark out. “I wanted to call Paris last night, but I thought he’d be asleep.”
“I had an email from Vice Principal Hayman,” Mom said, skipping the small talk and not disguising her irritation. “You were given a discipline slip and never showed to detention.” Her pitch was rising. “What on earth is going on? We’re barely out of the country and—”
