irrevocable

{Sixteen}

Secrets and Lies // Ruelle

Jackson

I pull to a stop next to my mom's place, the double wide trailer I grew up in. I haven't been here in a few months, but it already looks worse than I remember. The siding is rusted at every corner. The door is pulling away from its hinges. Three of the windows have cracks. And those are just the windows I can see from the front. Who knows what hell is lurking in the back. Weeds are pushing up along the foundation. The house isn't on wheels, but that's literally the only good thing I can say about it.

I don't remember it being this bad. I've only been out of town for a few months. Is it possible for a place to get this run down in such a short amount of time? Or maybe I've found enough light in my life that the darkness stands out even more.

Yeah, I think that's more likely.

I hesitate to get out and knock on her door. I'm dreading this. I would have avoided coming here altogether if my mom hadn't tracked me down. I'm still fuming about that. She better give me some answers. As it is, I killed about an hour this morning going over my truck with a fine-toothed comb looking for any type of tracking device she might have hidden. I know I'm not sharing my location with her. First thing I did when I had enough money of my own was to get a cell phone account that she had no part of.

It's early. Not as early as I'd like considering I'd planned to be on the road already, but definitely earlier than she wants me here. I'm sure she'd rather I come by closer to lunch but tough shit. The fact that I'm stopping by on my way out of town is favor enough.

I grab my coffee, not strong enough for a morning with my mom, and resolve to get this over with. I'll probably need a drink when I'm done. I'm giving her fifteen minutes. No more. I don't care what kind of bullshit guilt trip she lays on me, I'm out. I have an alarm set and everything.

I step up onto the rickety porch, avoiding the loose boards, and knock loudly. It takes a few tries but then I hear her holler at me.

"Who the fuck is knocking this early?"

It's almost nine in the morning. From the way she's bitching at me you'd think I knocked on her door at the crack of dawn. I say nothing, just knock again.

I should turn tail and get the hell out of here. Seems like she forgot she ordered me to drop by. I'm only doing this to get her off my back. She's tenacious. If I don't get this over with now, she'll no doubt show up in Fallbrook Hills knocking on my apartment door even though she has no idea where I live now.

Yeah. Fuck everyone. I live in Fallbrook now. Not coming back here for anyone or anything. In fact, this is the last fifteen minutes I'm spending in this town.

The door flies open. My mom stands on the other side in her robe looking as trashed as she looked last night.

"Out partying late?" I say right before taking a casual sip of coffee. How did I turn out the only responsible one between the two of us?

Mom stands up straighter, brushing the nest of hair out of her face. And failing. It drops right back in place covering her left eye.

"Thought I told you to come by later."

"Thought I told you I was leaving this morning. I should have just taken off, but here I am. Let's get this over with."

"Is that any way to talk to your mother?"

"Hmm, let's see." I rub my chin, debating over which lie of hers to hit her with. "Is funneling child support into a private account and spending it on yourself any way to raise your son that you ripped away from his father for no foreseeable reason?"