Atone (Recovered Innocence #2)(18)

She has to direct me to Mom’s house because I don’t know where she lives now. I don’t know where Dad lives either. Cora waited until I was released from prison to tell me what happened to our family. My parents’ split, the sale of the house we grew up in, and my dad’s alcoholism. What’s odd is that my dad never drank. I didn’t even think he liked the taste of alcohol. Cora tells me it’s a weakness in him and it has nothing to do with me. That’s some bullshit she learned in Al-Anon. She’s not only the sister of a convicted murderer, she’s the daughter of an alcoholic.

My conviction didn’t just happen to me, it happened to my whole family.

Cora buffered everything for me. When I walked out of prison it was like I was Dorothy opening the door to Oz. The landscape of my life had totally changed. I still don’t know how to navigate it. Around every turn is another thing I have to adapt to and accept as my new reality. I went to a couple Al-Anon meetings with Cora, but they had no context for me. In my memory, my dad never even drank. How am I supposed to connect what Cora tells me with what I remember? They’re so far apart it’s ludicrous.

She talks about how much our mom has changed. The way she says it is a warning, like I shouldn’t expect much of anything from our mother. Cora’s tried to dampen my expectations of this reunion, but I have the feeling the effort is more for her than it is for me. She wants this to go well—for me. She doesn’t know it, but the pressure that puts on me balls my hands into fists and I have to force myself to relax my jaw. I already have a headache from the pressure. What if I f*ck this up? I can’t let Cora down. I just can’t.

I rode my bike past our old house a couple times, looking for I-don’t-know-what in the clapboard siding and tidy yard. There weren’t even any ghosts there, no shadows of my former life. It was just a house. I feel so distanced from my life before, it feels like a movie I watched and can barely remember the plotline of or the actors who played in it. I’m not sure how to behave with our parents. Do I hug them like I used to? A handshake? An awkward wave maybe, or an acknowledging head nod? I just don’t know. I’d ask Cora, but I’m afraid the question would disappoint her.

I pull the car up to my mom’s house and cut the engine. I take my driving test tomorrow to get my license back. Both Cora and I had to take half a day off work so she could drive me down to the DMV. I hope I pass. Cora’s counting on that too. I can’t deal her any more disappointment.

We get out of the car and walk up to an apartment building a few pay scales down from our old neighborhood. I wonder how my mom has handled this. She was always about appearances and fitting in. I don’t imagine she’s still friends with my friends’ moms. Not because they would’ve dropped her, but because she wouldn’t have been able to deal with their pity and rejection. The old you can’t fire me because I quit routine.

Cora pauses at the door and looks up at me. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Let’s do this.”

Her laugh isn’t humorous. “It’s not a root canal.”

It might as well be. “Of course it’s not.” Let’s just get this over with, I want to say. Instead, I rap on the door. Cora steps forward so she’s in front of me.

Mom answers the door. I’m glad I’m standing behind Cora, because I would’ve knocked backward into her. Mom did something to her hair and—what the f*ck?—her eyes. I look like her. Or at least I used to. She lightened her hair so that it’s almost blond, and the green contacts in her eyes blot out the blue that was nearly identical to Cora’s. All of the air is sucked out of me and I can’t speak. I’m looking at a stranger. There’s little similarity between the woman I’m looking at and the woman who raised me.

“Beau!” Mom throws her arms out and charges toward me, nearly bumping Cora off the porch.

I’m hit with a hundred and thirty pounds of unfamiliarity that wraps around me and squeezes tight. She doesn’t even smell the same. I meet Cora’s gaze over the top of mom’s head. She mouths I’m sorry. I embrace Mom back and we do this awkward dance of letting go just as the other one hugs harder until I drop my hands to my sides and she’s forced to drop hers too.

“Look at you.” Mom pats me on the chest. “You’re so handsome. But this beard…” She tries to touch my face, but I lean out of reach. She recovers and wipes her hand on her hip. She gives Cora a brief hug. “Come in. Your dad’s not here yet.”

We follow her into the apartment. She kept some of the furniture from our old house. It looks out of place here. The context is all wrong. There are some new pieces mixed in that confuse me.

“Have a seat.” She motions to the couch that used to be in our old living room.

I put my hands up Cassandra’s shirt for the first time while sitting on it. The memory throws me off, and I’m stuck in place by it, staring at the exact spot where we sat. I couldn’t work the clasp of her bra. She laughed and unhooked it for me. I can practically feel her in my hands and hear the hitch in her breath. Cora prods me, bringing me back to the here and now. When I sit it almost feels like sitting on a grave, and a chill shoots through me.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Mom looks hopeful, like maybe Cora isn’t the only one who put expectations on this visit.

“Water,” I say, and Cora echoes me.