Page 166 of Always Meant for You
A pause hums between us.
“People in town called it an accident,” I say. “But no one ever said what kind. Not even the old Young sisters. They told me she used to waitress at the diner. I found a photo of her and Betty in the back office once. Did you know about that?”
He shifts, not away from me, but toward me. “Yeah. My grandpa mentioned she worked there.”
“Do you know what happened to your mom?”
He looks down at our joined hands. “I do.”
The breeze passes through the leaves.
“Will you tell me?” I ask, my words floating in the air.
He runs his thumb across the back of my hand. “Before my grandfather passed, I asked him to tell me everything about my mom. He didn’t hold back. I know exactly what happened. I told Jamie after and made him promise he’d keep it between us.”
“Promises meant something to my brother,” I say.
Cal musters a sad smile. “They did.”
I give him space to continue.
“My mother died of a drug overdose,” he says quietly. “I was with her when it happened.”
I squeeze his hand. “Cal, I’m so sorry.”
“I was too young to understand, and most of my memories are blurry, like snippets and sensations. But I remember that day. I thought she was sleeping. She slept a lot. I stayed beside her until I got too hungry to ignore it. I don’t know if I was with her for hours or days at that point. There wasn’t any food in the house, and there wasn’t a food pantry down the street back then. I couldn’t wake her, so I dug around the couch and found some coins in the cushions. That’s what I used to do to try to get something to eat at this rundown corner store.”
I think of his reaction to the child at the food pantry, then picture him as a hungry child, and my heart aches. “That’s so young to be out on a city street.”
He nods. “I think that’s why I remembered the row house. They all look the same, but that crooked four stood out to me. Once I found it, I knew I was home.”
He pauses.
“But the day she died, I didn’t make it far. A police officer stopped me. When he brought me home, he went inside and found my mom. He turned on cartoons and had me sit on the couch. Then an ambulance arrived.”
The air thickens as the willow leaves shift above us like this little slice of the world is listening and grieving with him.
I take his hand in both of mine. “I’m sorry you had to carry that weight the whole time we were with Preston and Logan.”
He glances up and shakes his head, pain carved into his expression. “I wish I could have told you, but I couldn’t talk about it,” he says, then grimaces. “That’s something I struggle with. When life feels out of control, I shut down. It’s like I’m being pulled under.”
“Do you recall much about her? Were there happy times?” I ask, a little unsure about posing the questions, but Cal’s expression warms.
“She had fiery auburn hair,” he says. “You probably saw that in the photo.”
“I did.” My voice catches slightly. “She was beautiful.”
A smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “She’d hold my hands and spin me until I couldn’t stand straight. Her bracelets would slide down her arms and rattle when they moved. I remember laughing and smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.”
He pauses, as if lost in a memory. “Did you notice the dandelions in the sidewalk cracks?”
“I did, yeah.”
“My mom would ask me to pick them. We’d sit on the porch steps, and she’d show me how to twist the stems to make crowns.”
Tears well in my eyes, but I blink them back. “That sounds like she loved you.”
He sighs. “I think she did—or at least, she tried.”
