Page 20 of The Other Side of Green

“Hey, I ran home this time.”

She pulled me in through the front door and I stared at her new home. A warmth spread from my stomach throughout my limbs until I felt heavy. Pictures of me as a kid lined the walls, frames on surfaces that caught the light.

“Wow.”

“It’s a bit of a shrine.” She shrugged. “But you know, I wanted to remember your face, just in case you really were gone.”

“Aren’t you going to ask where I’ve been?” She was taking this mightily calm.

“You’ll tell me when you are ready.”

I couldn’t promise that, but I narrowed my gaze at her. Everything about this felt like coming home, apart from it jangled a bell inside my head, a little ring-a-ding-a-ling that disconnected me—put me apart from it like I was watching it playing out instead of doing it myself.

“You knew I was coming back, didn’t you?” I shook my head as pieces dropped into place.

Mom pulled me into the living room, pointing to a picture of me playing the piano in the old house. The image seemed almost ancient now. “Remember that?”

“Yeah, before Dad burned my piano.” I turned her back around to face me, searching the lines on her face. Most of them I’d seen before. Actually, she hadn’t aged at all while I’d been gone, she’d flourished. Her hair was dark and shiny, skin smooth and glowing. She looked… happy.

My stomach clenched at the thought she’d managed to be happy without me. I really was an asshole—what the fuck was wrong with me?

“How did you know I was coming home?” I asked.

She bit her lips again—that hadn’t changed. “Funny tale.”

“Uh, huh?” She went to the kitchen and fiddled with the coffee machine, but I followed her close behind so she couldn’t avoid answering.

I went to the supermarket this morning. You know, Torrode’s on the corner of…”

“Yes, Mom, I remember the local grocery store.”

“Well, I was just picking up a few things for our dinner tonight and I wanted to bake something to take to the Lennox house, when who should I see but Lyra. She had a trolley full of produce like she planned to feed an army—which I guess she probably is. Poor girl. So young to have to step up, but you know her mother won’t. Useless waste of space she is.”

“Mom.” My heart hammered at the mention of Lyra. I kept it buttoned down and gripped the countertop tighter.

“Oh right. So, I called out to Lyra. l wanted to ask how college was, give her my condolences, tell her how much I loved and respected her Grandma.”

“Yes?”

“And well she saw me and then high tailed it as fast as she could down the aisle. It was like she’d seen a ghost, her eyes wide enough to fit a Sunday lunch on.”

“So?” As lovely as this was and knowing that Lyra had made it safely back was good to know, I couldn’t really see the point of the story.

“After you left, I got close to Lyra. She’d come by and we’d talk, you know?” I nodded, hurrying her along. “Well, the only thing Lyra would ever have to hide from me was if she’d seen you and knew where you were.” Mom waved her hands as if this were blindingly obvious and shrugged. “So, I knew you’d be back.”

“But you don’t know why I had to leave.”

“Don’t know. Don’t want to know. Whatever happened that night is done, Jack. It. Is. Done. Let it go.”

I sagged at her words.

“Luca is going to kill me.” There seemed little point denying anything.

“So, you fight it out like you always did, and then you get over it.”

“You’re being very calm, Mom.” I repeated my statement from earlier.

“Everything that is, just is, don’t you think, Jack?” I had no idea what she meant. Coming home hadn’t gone at all the way I’d thought. It left me feeling strangely off balance.