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And Matty, well, he was absolutely in my corner. Did it matter to me if Stefon ended up being the odd man out? No, unless he took it out on my mom.
“Ciaran,” Matty warned.
I could tell he wanted to tell me it was perfectly acceptable if I kept my mouth shut. That he’d take the brunt of our parents’ wrath. Except I wasn’t okay with that.
“I’ll say this first part in front of both of you,” I said, looking between Mom and Stefon. “The rest is something I’d rather just talk to Mom about. If…if you don’t mind.”
Stefon’s face softened as he came to stand behind Mom. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she reached up to take it. They were definitely a unit, that was for sure.
“We understand,” Mom said, speaking for them both. “We’ll listen with an open mind and hear you out.”
“I was set on running away,” I blurted out, which of course was the wrong thing to start with. Mom tensed just as Stefon’s face furrowed. “Let me back up,” I amended, “because running away isn’t accurate, either.” Gathering courage, I said, “I needed to confront Mr. Jones, Mom, from my old high school. He…” I swallowed. “He, well, he said something that required a face-to-face confrontation, something about my college application, and I know that sounds really stupid and not exactly like something that requires a five-hour drive, but please know that it was really important for me to speak with Mr. Jones. I was going to get there one way or another, and Matty, who was concerned and wanted to make sure I didn’t get into trouble, offered to take me.”
Mom was silent for a moment. I could see that Stefon was dying to speak, but she squeezed his hand and he refrained. Maybe Stefon was not a lost cause.
Mom shifted her gaze to Matty. “Thank you for taking care of Ciaran. I am glad to know you were here for him.” She chewed on her lower lip in contemplation. “Did you gain those bruises before, during, or after the trip to Vegas?”
My mom was really good at soliciting information. There was almost no way for Matty to talk his way out of answering that one.
Matty’s eyes flicked to mine in apology before he answered. “During.”
She nodded, as if understanding the unspoken words. Then, without warning, Mom stood. “I’d like to speak with my son alone.” She kissed Stefon on the cheek. “I’ll see you a bit, my love.” Turning to me, she said, “Ciaran, follow me.”
My chest hollowed out and dread filled the empty cavity. My legs moved without me having to tell them to do so. I gave Matty one final glance. His smile was encouraging, which helped, and I followed my mom out of the formal living room and up the grand staircase.
I’d never been in this part of the big house before. It was as ornate as the ground floor. The lights were low but it was easy to detect the plush carpets underneath. The famous paintings decorating the walls that led to the second floor were the kind that I’d seen in art history books.
“This is my suite,” Mom explained once she opened a set of double doors, revealing a large sitting room, an equally large bedroom, an expansive walk-in closet, and her own bathroom.
As a whole, the suite was lush and feminine and clearly designed with my mom in mind. French doors were opened to the ocean. The constant whoosh of ocean waves and the evening’s cool breeze cast a peaceful vibe over my mom’s domain.
Multiple vases of exotic flowers brightened her sitting room while the dreamy cream-colored bedding was inviting and cozy. The dozens of pillows at the headboard seemed a bit impractical.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “Stefon chose well for you. I have no doubt you will be able to unwind here when you need time to yourself.”
“I’ll change out the artwork, but it’s a far cry from our apartment above the deli,” Mom said with an easy grin. We sat at the small table in her sitting room.
“No kidding.” Instantly I felt better. “Question: where do you put the pillows when you go to bed?”
Mom blushed, which wasn’t something she did often. “Well, to be honest, I haven’t actually slept in the room yet.”
“Oh, right.” I tugged at the strings of the hoodie, which inadvertently drew Mom’s attention to the area. She did a double take and I knew my ability to hide the hickeys was over.
Thankfully she didn’t bring it up, but I knew she would.
“Ciaran,” she started after clearing her throat. “Was Mr. Jones inappropriate toward you?”
How to answer that?
I was afraid to be honest. Afraid of appearing weak. I hated the idea of being thought of as a victim…as someone to be pitied.
“He—he was,” I said. Mom’s face crumpled. Be brave, I told myself. Mom will still love you. “Mr. Jones—Drew, which is what he asked me to call him when we were alone—was always attentive. At first, nothing really happened, though he’d act hot and cold towards me, and that sorta fed my need to impress him. He um…” I trailed off.
Tears cascaded down Mom’s cheeks. She leaned in but then stopped. She sensed that I wasn’t ready for physical comfort just yet. “Ciaran, my love.” Her voice cracked. “You are not to blame for Mr. Jones’s actions. You did nothing wrong, honey. Nothing at all.”
The knots tightening my insides began to unwind at her words. I had no clue I needed to hear that from her. I wasn’t even cognizant of how tense I’d been, but almost instantly every muscle relaxed.
I cleared my throat and nodded. I still found it difficult to look her in the eye.
