Page 7 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
Her hand on my shoulder, the cook’s assistant said some compassionate words, although I barely registered them, my entire focus on my mother. But the tone of her voice was low, soothing…
“How dare you! You’re fired! Get out!” Mother screamed, pointing at the door.
“Margot,” Father said. “Don’t do this.”
“She doesn’t get to make living off us if she’s going to side with Tony.”
“Mom, please,” Edgar said. “None of this is Tony’s fault, and—”
He never got to finish. She slapped him so hard, his head swiveled.
“Get out, you heartless bastard,” she railed, while Father held her to make sure she didn’t strike Edgar again. “Go to your room and stay there!”
I’d never seen her act so crazed, lashing out at people with such violence. But grief has the power to twist and change people. And Father did everything Mother wanted, and more, in a desperate attempt to calm her.
I hoped she’d bring Bolt and the cook’s assistant back after I left. But her anger and pain must’ve run too deep, and I feel the possibility of forgiveness slipping further from my grasp.
A couple of quick knocks and Harry sticks his head in.
I put on an empty smile. I wouldn’t want him to notice anything’s wrong or try to run interference between me and Mother. That wouldn’t end well.
“Hey, Tony. Caleb’s having a party. His parents are out of town.” He grins. “Lot of hot girls are gonna be there. Booze, too.”
I give him a look. “Booze is not a plus.”
He groans. “Yeah, yeah. Mister Continental Attitude.” He’s seen how blasé Europeans are about alcohol, instead of looking at it as a source of never-ending fun like people do in the South.
“I think I’ll wait for Mother to get back. I want to say hello,” I say, doing my best to ignore the roiling in my gut. Just the idea of facing her makes my mouth go dry.
“Oh, she’s here. I saw her go into her room.”
“Really?” My gut shifts into overdrive. “Okay, thanks.”
“If you change your mind, lemme know. I’ll text you the directions. Sayonara!”
I almost laugh at his horrible singsong pronunciation. He’s determined to spend at least a semester in Tokyo while in college, and he’s been studying Japanese for the last three years. Harry being Harry, he hasn’t made much progress.
I inhale deeply and stand up. I have to see her…know if there’s any chance of earning her forgiveness. Delaying will only make me sicker to my stomach.
Just think of it as pulling off a Band-Aid.
I check my appearance in the mirror, finger-combing my hair and adjusting my clothes, picking off near-invisible flecks of dust, until I’m satisfied I look perfect.
A perfect son to earn precious forgiveness.
I walk slowly down the hall, mentally reciting all the things I want to say. I’ve written them out in notebooks over the years, and have them memorized.
I knock softly on the door to the master bedroom.
“Come in.”
Mother’s voice.I straighten my spine and walk inside. The room’s airy and sumptuously decorated with a thick Persian rug, a plush armchair and a loveseat. There’s a bench at the foot of the California king bed, the bed itself covered in pearlescent gray sheets that look almost silvery under the chandelier. The furniture, ornately carved out of cherry, is elegant and old-world. A few nicks and scars mar the hardwood gleam of the floor. Mother is in the armchair, and I recognize a long scratch by her feet. I made it when I fell with a pair of scissors, while running around the house with my brothers and sister.
Mother pulled me up, checking for injuries, then hugged me tightly. “Don’t ever do that again. You could’ve hurt yourself!” she said against the crown of my head, punctuating the words with kisses.
The memory suddenly gives me courage. Surely that kind of love can’t just die, can it?
“Tony,” Mother says, her expression stony.
