Charade

              “What are you really doing here today, Colton?” She rolls to her side and looks up at me. She looks tired. So fucking tired.

              “What? I can’t come see you whenever I want? I’m here almost every day.”

              She gives me a look that says I should have the answer to that question. “I’m your mama. I know all.” Another small smile. “Your eyes are a million miles away. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

              Christ, I know it makes me sound like a pussy, but all I can wonder is how the hell I’m supposed to get by without her. What the purpose is to keep going if people as good as her have such a shitty life. The only thing she has to count for it is me and how sad is that? I’m in college, though I hate it. It’s my third year and I’m still taking gen-ed classes, not sure what to even do. I’m a drug dealer, drink too much, have a bad mouth and am screwing a girl who just lost her mom, while trying to pretend I’m doing it for her when it’s really just because she feels so damn good.

              When I don’t answer she continues. “You should see how that girl looks at you. I’m glad I got to witness it.”

              Her words couldn’t make me feel any more like shit because Chey and I aren’t even serious. Are we?

              “It’s not what you think.”

              “Or maybe you don’t want to admit it,” Mom counters.

              I try not to argue with her because she’s good as hell at it, even during times like this when I know she’s wrong.

              “All I want in this world is for you to be happy, Colton. You deserve it and I know you think you don’t, but you do. If she can make you happy, you grab onto that. You grab her and never let go.”

              My eyes actually start to fucking sting. Happy. What the hell is that? Can Chey make me happy? Am I happy now? Is it happiness when I laugh with her? Push inside her?

              “I…” Nothing else comes out though.

              Mom squeezes my hand with more strength than I would think she had. “I still want my tattoo, you know? I expect you to get it for me.”

              My chest loosens slightly at the change of subject. “You don’t want a tattoo. I know you don’t.”

              “Maybe I used to not, but I do now.”

              I shake my head at her. I can’t imagine trying to get her into a tattoo parlor or her sitting there while someone gave her ink.

              “I need to go.” I push to my feet, fully aware there was no point in this visit.

              “Okay. I’m glad you came to see me.”

              “Me too.” I give her a kiss and then walk to the door. I hear Maggie in the other room, so I know she’s not here alone. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

              I turn to look at her.

              “Are you happy, Colton?” she asks. “I know I’m sick and it’s hard…but are you happy?”

              My throat is squeezed so tight I don’t know if I can answer her. Such a simple fucking question, but I don’t have a reply. Not one that I really feel.

              I squeeze the door handle. “Yeah, Mom. Of course I’m happy.”

***

My heart jackhammers as I drive through town. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m doing, I just know I need to get away. I head to the outskirts of town, this little ghetto park hidden in the middle of nowhere that no one uses.

              And pace.

              I fucking pace and I don’t know why. I just hear Cheye

              But I want to. For the first time I realize I want it for her and I want it for me. I don’t want to be that piece of shit pot dealer who leaves his girl to sell drugs. I don’t want to have mom look at me like I’m her favorite person in the fucking world, but know she wants more for me than what I’m doing too. She knows. She has to know what I do or who I am.

              My phone buzzes. One look tells me it’s someone wanting weed. The phone flies out of my hand, against a tree and busts apart. Busts in a million pieces like I’m doing right now.

              Tears fall down my face and I hate that, but at the same time hope they can cleanse me. Somehow absolve me from my sins.

              I feel like nothing. I don’t know who I am or what I want, but I keep pushing through with my shitty ass attitude while my dying mom hopes for more for me.

              Do I ever feel like anything?

              Yeah, when I’m with her. Or with Cheye

              I want that. I can’t believe I want her. Really want her, but what do I have to offer?

              I let loose. Scream and I know it’s crazy. Hell maybe I am cracking up, but I try and let it all out of me. Push it out because I’m tired of fucking feeling this way.

              I want her. I want something. I don’t know what, but I don’t want this, standing in the middle of nowhere and cracking up.

              I’m tired. So fucking tired of fighting it and feeling this way—whatever the hell way it is. I lie about everything. I’m a dick to everyone. I can’t even truthfully answer the question “are you happy”. But she sees more in me. They both do.

              My feet start to carry me back to the car. I don’t know where I’m going or what I plan to do when I get there.

              Actually, I do.

              I’m going to Cheye

              I’m not a block down the street when I see the red and blue flashing lights in my rearview window. All I can think about is the weed in the trunk of my car.

~CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX~

Cheye

              My phone rings a couple hours after Colt leaves. I fumble for it thinking it’s either him or Aunt Lily (who is still blowing up my phone), but see a number I don’t recognize. I almost put the phone back down, but something makes me answer it. “Hello?”

              “Cheye

              I recognize the voice instantly. I jump up out of bed. “Bev. What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is it Colt?”

              She chuckles and it sounds like a sicker, more feminine version of Colt. It makes me sad and smile at the same time.

              “No, no. Nothing’s wrong. Unless you count the fact that I’m dying.”

              My heart stops. Words completely lost. How do I reply to that?

              “Not today, though. Today I want you to do a favor for me.”

              My breathing picks back up again. “Absolutely. Anything.”

              Happiness sprouts inside me. I’m honored she would come to me and I don’t even know what she wants. The woman has only met me once, yet when Colt is obviously unavailable, she comes to me.

              “I want to get a tattoo.”

              I stumble. That wasn’t what I expected at all. “Umm…okay?”

              Another laugh and it may sound ridiculous, but I already miss Bev. I can’t imagine being Colt and knowing I’m going to lose her. It was different with my mom and I still can’t get over it. We weren’t close and she forgot about me more than she thought about me, but your parent is always your parent. Colt has this loving, awesome woman as his mom and he’s watching her wither away.

              “I know it sounds crazy…especially given all the trouble I’ve given Colton over them. Our biggest argument we ever had was when he came home with his first tattoo at seventeen.”

              I sit on the bed, hoping she’ll tell me the story.

              “Thinks he’s big and tough that one, but he knew I would be pissed. That’s why he got it on his back. Tried to hide it. He may think he’s good at lot of things, but getting something by me isn’t one of them. I know my son and I knew the minute he came home that he’d done something he knew I wouldn’t like.”