Page 75 of Redemption
“I don’t know how to talk to you about this,” I say, chewing on the inside of my lip.
“It’s a rather simple question. Was it a nice kiss—yes or no?”
With my lip still between my teeth, I nod, heat flooding my face and neck.
“Then I’m not sure why you are cursing the man,” she says simply, and I wish it were—simple that is—but it’s never been. Instead, the love that Hayes and I had was all-consuming, burning everything in its path. Nothing about that was simple.
“I don’t understand, Mom. Before I left, you hated Hayes—found him abhorrent—but now you seem like friends. What am I missing? What happened? Because it’s not just him. You’ve changed.”
Her sigh is heavy as she places her hands on the table in front of her. She links her fingers together, fiddling with them as she avoids my gaze this time.
“Losing a child should never have to be a wake-up call to everything you’ve done wrong as a parent, but unfortunately, it was for your father and me. We didn’t just lose Langston that day. We lost you, too, because you left and never looked back.” The pain in her voice crackles and breaks as she swallows around it.
“You and Dad didn’t make it easy to come back,” I say, bitterness sweeping through me. As much as I understand now that I’m also to blame for our broken relationship, it doesn’t change the fact that they were my parents. They were supposed to love me no matter who I was, but they couldn’t when I didn’t fit their mold. That still burns, even though I’m trying to heal from it.
“We wanted you to have that freedom you had been desperately searching for. We had already made many mistakes with you—with Langston, too. It was time to try it your way, and once you were gone, we didn’t know how to start building that relationship again. Your father and I—well, we aren’t very good at expressing our feelings.”
The laugh that bubbles out of me is unexpected—I think for my mom too because she stares at me shocked before her own laughter bubbles to the surface.
“I think that’s an understatement, Mom,” I wheeze, but she can’t respond because her laughter has stolen her breath.
Sitting with my mom, laughing at our kitchen table while we talk about boys and mistakes, is healing. For years, I prayed for this kind of relationship with her—the kind where we could talk about the things that have hurt us and heal, and I realize I have things to apologize for, too.
My laughter starts to subside, and I reach out for her hand. “I didn’t make it easy for you guys to reach out. I should have thought about how Langston’s death would have affected you, too. But I couldn’t see past my pain. I lost Hayes and Langston in one fell swoop, and in a way, I blamed you and Dad for both. I’m—I’m sorry, Mom—for everything. For leaving when I should have stayed. For my part in Langston’s death—all of it. I’m just sorry.”
Tears stream down my face as I hold her gaze. I hope she can see how much I want this to be our turning point.
Without saying a word, she stands, her chair screeching across the tile as she shoves it back.
“Stay here,” she says, turning to leave. “I have something for you.”
Unease settles in my stomach as I wait for her to return. In a moment, she’s back with a leather book in her arms. She stops beside me, letting her fingers drift lightly across my cheek.
“I know you won’t believe this because guilt is a strange thing, but Mallorie Jade, you were never a factor in Langston’s death. I want you to have this,” she says, pushing the leather book into my hands. “It was Langston’s journal. I think he would want you to have it. Read it—and when you do, really listen to what he had to say.”
She drops a kiss to the top of my head before she sits and takes her tea in her hands again. Tears sting in my eyes because I never remember feeling so loved and cherished by my mom.
It’s healing to the little girl inside me who always wanted that from her.
“Thank you,” I whisper, tracing my fingers along the leather that Langston once held in his.
“You’re welcome, Darling. Now,” she says, clearing her throat, “tell me, are you going to kiss Hayes again?”
The giggle she lets loose is so much like a little girl’s that I can’t help but smile.
But the next words out of my mouth kill her joy. “I doubt it, Mom.”
“You know,” she says, reaching out and squeezing my arm, “I think you should give him a chance.”
“But why? You don’t even like him—at least you didn’t. What changed?”
“Me, honey. I changed. It wasn’t just one thing, either. Langston’s death opened my eyes, but I also sat in church one day and realized that the person I was wasn’t who I wanted to be. There was this pressure on my chest, and it felt like God was trying to get my attention. So I started talking to him, little by little, and I started to realize that the pain I’ve carried—and the pain I’ve caused—didn’t have to define who I let myself be in the future. My choices have caused a lot of pain—some that I can’t take back, no matter how much I wish I could. But I’m learning about grace, and I hope it’s a lesson you can learn, too. Because grace doesn’t have to be earned, Mallorie Jade.”
“God and I haven’t been on the same page since Langston died.”
“Have you ever thought it’s because you’re trying to write a different book than the one he has planned for you?”
I cross my arms because it’s a question I’ve been begrudgingly asking myself for a while. The path I’ve been on since Langston died has been feeling more and more like my favorite jeans from high school—familiar, but a little too tight to fit comfortably.
