Page 129 of Keep Me Never
“Mom?”
She walks toward me slowly, like she’s unsure if she’s allowed to come any closer, and it’s so fucked up, because I don’t know if I want her to or not.
I swallow hard, the glass in my throat cutting deeper with each step she takes. “How are you here?”
“I came to see you,” she says softly. “You haven’t been answering my calls.”
“Yeah.” My tone is bitter even to my drunken ears. “Because I had nothing to say to you.”
“I’m your mother, Chase. I love you.”
My laugh is harsh and broken. “Love? You love me? Are you sure about that? Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.”
Her face falls.
“Do you even know what that word means anymore?” I ask. “Because I do now. I thought I did before, but I was wrong and there is no mistaking this feeling. And it’s not whatever the hell it was when you left Dad, when you took everything and walked away like we didn’t matter.”
She flinches.
“When you love someone, you’d give anything to protect them,” I go on, louder now. “You’d sell your own damn soul just to see them one last time if that’s all you could get.” I breathe hard, shoulders trembling. “If you love someone…you don’t do what you did. You don’t hurt them and you never leave them.” I pause and shake my head. “I don’t even know why I’m trying.”
“I just want to be here for you,” she whispers. “I want to help.”
I let out a breath, jaw clenched. “You want to help?” My voice cracks. “Then help me.”
The moment the words leave me, I realize that she can, that she’s here and maybe this is what I need. Maybe this is the answer.
Maybe this is why she came.
To save me.
“Mom.” Desperation drives me, and I stumble forward, falling, and crawl the last few feet to her on my hands and knees, the weight of everything too heavy to stand.
She crouches, alarmed, reaching out, but I grab her hands before she can say a word.
“Mom, please.” My voice is ragged “If you want to help me…give it back, the college fund, the one you took. Put it back.”
Her expression wavers, and she starts shaking her head.
“Please.” My grip tightens. “I blew it out there. I don’t know if you saw, but it’s over for me. Football, it’s done. This is all I have left, my only chance to make something of myself.”
“Chase, honey?—”
“I worked so hard.” I’m crumbling. “I got good grades. Mom, I cangraduatethis spring. I can. I can get a degree and be someone.” Tears sting my eyes. “I can make my friends proud. Make myself proud. I can, I swear to god, but I need what you stole to do that. I don’t even need it all. I’ll figure out meals and copy books from the library. That’s what I did this past semester, and no one knew. I can even figure out housing if I need to. I’ll…I’ll have more time. I can get a job. Hell, I’ll sleep in my truck if I have to, but, Mom…please.” I break off, my voice barely a whisper, “I can’t fake tuition.”
She’s crying now and hope flares in my chest, but then she says, “I’m so sorry, Son.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
She pulls her hands from mine, and I stumble forward, mypalm landing on the cold turf beneath me. My chest starts to cave in, and her hand presses to her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and then she spins and walks away—leaving me there on my knees.
I stare after her, and with every step she takes, something else breaks.
My entire body is shaking, something wet rolls down my cheeks, and I fall forward, my forehead pressing to the green beneath me, fingers digging in like it might hold me together, but it doesn’t.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t want to be strong on my own. I want to break.
