Chapter 14
One More Lie
Holly
The Mustang hums as Trip drives us down the road. He still hasn’t said a word to me, and I’m not quite sure what I should say. I replay over and over in my mind the way the conversation will probably go the moment I confront him. He’ll either say that the cop doesn’t know what he’s talking about, even though he seemed to have a lot of information about Trip. Trip didn’t bother to correct him either, which makes me lean toward the cop telling the truth.
The other thing Trip might say is that it’s the truth and that everything he’s ever told me is a complete lie and he has no intention of ever getting really serious with me—that he wanted to keep me in the dark while he slept with me.
I sigh and run my hand through my hair. Either way I need to know. “Are you going to talk to me?”
Trip flexes his fingers around the steering wheel. “About what?”
“You know exactly what. Are you going to tell me what that cop meant and how he knows so much about you?”
He blows a rush of air through his nose. “Can we talk about this after we get the Jackson situation handled? Everyone is already on edge and I don’t want to add to it. After that, I promise I’ll explain everything to you.”
I stare at him for a long moment, deciding if I can wait that long to know. Not knowing what his secret is makes my mind conjure up a million different things.
He glances over. “Please?”
I sigh. It’s not ideal because I want to know now, but if I don’t like what I hear, I don’t see how I can make it through all the paperwork down at the police station. “Okay. Fine. But as soon as we’re done, we’re talking about this.”
He reaches over and takes my hand, raising it to his lips and kissing my knuckles. “We will. It’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now. I’ll be glad when everything is out in the open.”
Trip pulls into the parking lot of the redbrick building and cuts the engine. The cop we followed pulls around the back, probably to unload his prisoner. I hop out of the car and glance around until I spot Max heading towards me. The remnants of the last attack from Jackson still cover his face. The bruises have turned from black to yellow, and have nearly disappeared, but he’s got a newly busted lip thanks to Jackson. I’m ashamed all this happened to him, but one good thing came out of it. Max’s parents finally found out that he’s gay. His deepest secret that he never wanted them to know is finally out in the open and the reaction Max feared never came. Both of his parents fully accepted the fact that their son was gay, and said they had suspected so for a long time. Max has been the happiest I’ve ever seen him. That is, until just a little while ago when he was reminded that not all people are so open-minded.
Trip rushes over and wraps his arm around my shoulders and says to Max, “Let’s go end this.”
Fluorescent lights illuminate the light-green brick walls inside the building. The three of us make our way to the front desk—the same one we were at when Max last filed a report.
The same heavy-set cop with the mustache greets us at the front desk. “You three back again?”
“Yes, sir. We’re here to press charges against the guy that we got the restraining order for last week,” Trip informs him.
The officer types a few words into his computer. “Ah, yes. Mr. Cruze. I see they just brought him in. Go ahead and tell me what happened.”
I listen as both Max and Trip recount what took place leading up to the fight. I’m so proud of Max as I listen to him bravely tell the officer everything Jackson said to him. I’m glad he’s finally standing up for himself.
Trip on the other hand seems rather angry and annoyed talking about Jackson. I can tell pushing the issue of the fight isn’t something he really wants, but feels obligated to do.
“Let me get all this filed. Go ahead and have a seat.” He nods toward the row of plastic chairs against the wall.
“Wonder how long this is going to take,” Max says with mild annoyance in his voice. “I want to get this over with.”
Just as I attempt to comfort Max, I hear my name being called from across the room. “Holly. Hey, Holly!”
I whip my head towards the frantic voice and my eyes widen as I watch an officer walk Grace up to a desk parallel to the reception desk. Her dirty-blonde hair is matted into clumps and the dingy-white tank-top she’s wearing falls off her left shoulder. She looks like hell, and God knows she probably hasn’t eaten or showered in days. The urge to not acknowledge my mother’s existence washes through me. It hurts to see her. It’s a reminder that she loves drugs more than me.
Whatever she did to land herself in here is deserved. Besides, she should be used to this by now. I can’t even begin to count the number of collect phone calls Dad receives from this place.
I turn to walk away without saying a word, pulling Trip along with me, but what she says stops me in my tracks. “Holly, please! Don’t let me die in here. They’re going to lock me up for a while this time. I need bail money. Call Bill. He’ll get me out.”
I spin on my heel. “Detoxing won’t kill you, Grace. It’ll do you some good to be in here for a while and get clean. Don’t call the house this time. Dad doesn’t need to get involved in your crap.”
Grace fidgets under my stare, and her cheeks sink in even more when she frowns while she rocks back and forth on her heels. “Please, Holly. I’m dying. I have HIV, and I don’t have much time. Don’t let me rot in this jail like an animal. I’m still your mother. Don’t you care if I die?”
My heart leaps into my throat and Trip’s arm tightens around my waist. Did I just hear her right?
“No.” I shake my head. “You’re lying. This is another trick to make me feel sorry for you. This is the same shit you pull on my dad, and I won’t let you do this to me. You’re already dead to me, Grace. Do you hear me? Dead.”
She wipes her nose over and over while she stares dead into my eyes. “I deserve that. I’m a horrible person and a shitty mother, but you look like you turned out all right. Me staying away was the best thing. Bill knew that, which is why he still helps me. I swear to you that I’m telling you the truth. Bill knows all about it and refuses to let me die alone in a gutter some place like I deserve, but he won’t let me come back home either.” Grace sighs and wipes a couple tears out of her eyes. “He’s forgiven me for making him sick. I hope one day you will too. I’m begging you to call him. He’ll come get me.”
My entire body tenses as her words sink in. This isn’t real. Dad wouldn’t do that to me. He wouldn’t be this sick and not tell me about it. He has the flu or something—that’s what he said. I’m not believing a word that comes out of her mouth unless I hear them straight from Dad.
Tears flow down my face and I drop my head, wishing they would just lock Grace up already. I don’t want to stand here and listen to any more of her lies.
It’s as if my prayers have been answered. I hear a male voice order, “Time to go, Pearson.”
“Holly! Please let him know! I’m begging you!” Those are the last words I hear as my mother is carted off to a cell, somewhere in the building.
I don’t know what’s going to happen to her, and I’ll probably go to hell for saying this, but I don’t really care either. As long as she and her lies stay out of my life, things will be fine.
“You okay?” Trip whispers in my ear while he tugs me against his chest.