Page 49 of Sunny Undone

“What?” She has the audacity to look…confused…and hurt.

“You and me. I don’t want to see you again unless you are clean and sober. You need me to make a direct payment to a vetted clinic, call me. But outside of that, I can’t keep doing this with you, Mom. I’m done.”

“Fuck you, Lucas,” she says as she stomps back into the bedroom.

I place my knuckles down on the kitchen island and suck in a deep breath.

I don’t know why I feel as though I’m having a heart attack. Or maybe it’s just my heart realizing I’m never gonna be able to fix what’s broken between me and Mom, because she doesn’t want to.

So, it’s not just her shitty belongings she’s packing up right now, it’s the last parts of us. And I guess that means I’m officially an adult orphan.

Mango stands, stretches, then repositions herself on the sofa facing away from me. Poetic.

“Nice timing, Mango,” I say, knowing she doesn’t care.

My phone rings, and I look down at it, hoping to see Della’s name even though I know I never gave her my number. Instead, I see Knox’s, which is rare.

“Prez,” I say as my mother shuffles out into the hallway with her bag.

“Need you to come in. Got a meeting you’re gonna be interested in, happening in about thirty minutes.”

“On my way,” I say.

“If you’re kicking me out without anything to eat, you should flip me a twenty for breakfast.”

I huff at that. I pour the coffee I was brewing into an old mug I don’t care about. Then, I grab a grocery bag and throw the bananas off the counter into it. I’ve got a Tupperware container with three eggs I boiled yesterday. She can have those too. There’s a half-eaten packet of crackers next to the fridge, and I won’t miss them.

I pass the bag and the mug to her. “There. I gave you breakfast.”

My mother glares at me. For years, on the few occasions I’ve seen her, I’ve looked hard into eyes that are so much like mine, hoping to see some shred of the woman she must have been at some point in time. But now, I don’t see anything beyond pure rage.

She throws the mug over my head, where it hits the wall, coffee pouring down to the floor. “Fuck you, Lucas.”

But she takes the food as she turns and walks out of the house.

I don’t know why, but I get the feeling that despite all the words we just exchanged, I’ll see her again, somewhere down the road. Maybe there’s a small kid in me that’s hoping she comes back a different person. But the man I’ve become knows better.

There’s a tipping point a human reaches, one where hope stops being something that keeps you going and ultimately starts to be the thing that’s killing you.

Maybe I reached mine.

With a heavy heart, I sweep up the shattered mug and mop up the coffee. The wall has an egg-shaped dent in it, which will need filling, at some point, but that sounds like a problem for Future Sunny, though that guy already has a long-ass list.

I give Mango fresh water and kibble, even though she continues to present me with her butthole, and then pull on my leather jacket and helmet and drive to the only family I care about.

The clubhouse parking lot is a lot busier than I expect for this time of the morning. There are plenty of bikes I recognize and a shiny black Mercedes that I don’t. I park next to Ridge’s bike and find he’s leaning against a wall, drinking a cup of coffee.

I think about my mom again but shake my head to clear the thought.

“Who died?” Ridge asks when I take my helmet off.

I look at him. “What?”

“That face. You look like someone died.”

“Oh. Right. No. Mom stayed last night.”

Ridge walks over and slaps my shoulder. “Ah.”