Page 27 of You’re Mine

“Well, that’s nice. Kids his age should have fun,” her eyes are flat, mirroring the tone of her voice.

There are so many things I want to say to my mother, so many questions I want to ask. Knowing that this might be the last time we’re together for a while or maybe forever, the words are on the tip of my tongue.

But it’s not the time. What Irene needs to do is get out of this hallway before Jace and Jamie finish up in the bedroom.

“Um, Mom,” I dissemble. “I’m guessing you want to get back to your bedroom. It’s probably been a long day for you.”

“Yes,” she began, almost hissing like a snake as her eyes narrow on the door behind me. The color drains from my face as I hear a door creaking. I was so close. So. Close. The door swings open and Jace’s voice comes flowing out.

“Trust me, little dude. New York’s a pretty great place,” he says before stopping. He sees Irene and stops, with one big hand on Jamie’s shoulder. I stare at the scene in horror. My mom is unmoving, her face a mask.

No one breathes and time has basically stopped. Tension fills the air and my lungs feel like there’s no oxygen in them. Jamie’s eyes dart between all of us, utterly confused.

“Mommy?” he asks. “Is everything okay?” But before I can answer, my mom speaks.

“Jace King, now that’s surprising,” Irene says in a silky tone. “Now what are you doing back here?” She could probably figure it out on her own. In fact, I’m sure she has given that Jace has a duffle bag thrown over one broad shoulder.

I swallow and try to speak.

“We’re um… he’s…well, um.” What do I say? There’s too much going on, and too many moving parts. What if Irene tells Herb? Can Jace really protect us from him? I want to trust him, I do! But these anxieties have been building up over seven years, and it’s really hard to just let them go.

I begin to hyperventilate a little, but then a hand comes down on my shoulder, calming me down a little. Jace’s body heat radiates up my spine.

“I’m here to take Haley and my son with me to New York,” he says, as if stating the obvious.

I have to hand it to Irene because she’s playing the role of an ice queen to perfection. That is, until this very moment. Her brow furrows.

“You’re leaving?”

“Um, yes,” I answer

Her mouth twitches ever so slightly into what could be a smile or a grimace, it’s too subtle to tell. Does she want me gone? Does she want me to stay? There’s no way for me to know, unless she speaks. Finally, Irene gives voice to her thoughts.

“I wasn’t sure if you ever would,” is her reply. What does that mean? “Is this what you truly want?”

We’re staring directly at one another, and, for maybe the first time, it feels like my mother really sees me.

“She doesn’t want to stay here Mrs. Jones,” Jace interrupts.

Her eyes cut to behind me.

“I didn’t ask you, Mr. King. I asked my daughter. She can speak for herself.” A fierceness takes over her voice, and it’s one I’ve never heard coming from her before. Irene takes a few steps towards me, but still keeps her distance. “Haley, do you want to go with him?”

I nod.

“Yes,” is my whisper. Her lips tighten as she nods.

“Okay, I won’t stop you then.”

I blink with surprise. Really? She’s going to let me go without a fight? But maybe it makes sense because my mom’s never really been interested in my affairs. She doesn’t hate me the way my dad does, but I’ve always felt ignored by her, like I was a burden and nothing else.

“Mom?” My voice is heavily peppered with the confusion that has permeated my brain.

She sighs a little, looking down.

“Haley,” she says, but then stops. She gathers her thoughts, then starts again. “I just want you to be stronger than me, and to lead your own life, that’s all.”

It’s not what I was expecting but her words strike a chord inside. Could it be possible that Irene cares, even if just a little bit?

“Whatever you do, however you do it, you take care of yourself, okay?” she says, not meeting my eyes.

“Okay, Mom, I will.”

“Good, good,” she backs up a little, clearly uncomfortable. “Goodbye then. It was nice seeing you, Jace.” She turns to go, her narrow back straight when suddenly, something comes over me.

“Wait!” I call.

Irene slowly looks back, and I rush over to her. I ball my hands at my sides because my mother and I have never been very affectionate with one another, and touching her would probably make her recoil with fear.

“Come with us,” I suggest. “This is your chance. I know you don’t like it here any more than I do.”

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