The Row(31)

I hug her before guiding her back to the couch and sitting down beside her.

She puts her arm around me and kisses my forehead. “We need to have the biggest celebration ever, if—or perhaps when—your father finally comes home to us.”

My stomach clenches in pain at the word when. That isn’t a word we use. We learned not to use it the first time the jury found Daddy guilty and I don’t think either of us has used it in this way since. I feel an intense urge to make her stop, to take that word back and lock it away. I want to protect us both from the false and agonizing hope the word when can bring with it.

“Maybe we should be careful…” I start slowly, wanting to let a little bit of the air out of her balloons, not massacre them all with a machine gun. “Let’s see what Daddy has to say about the news before we make too many plans.”

Mama’s smile wavers, but not for long. “Who raised you to be so practical, huh?”

I pretend like it’s a hard question. “Hmm, I’m going to say you.”

“Maybe we’ve been too practical for too long.” She rests her head against mine, and I stiffen because her words are taking her further into the hopeful arena than I’m ready to go.

“Riley?” Mama sits back and stares at me until I meet her eyes. “What’s wrong? How do you feel about this?”

In the face of her hope, I lose control of the emotions I’ve been holding in check. Mama pulls me into a tight hug as tears flow down my face.

“I so hope you’re right.” I try to force what I’m feeling into words. “Last week—last week when I visited him, Daddy told me something. I’m sorry I haven’t told you, but I’ve been worried about you since the hospital and I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Mama scowls, but she keeps her arms around me as she clucks. “Pay no mind to those doctors, Riley. I’m tougher than they know.”

“I know you are.”

“What did he tell you?” she urges.

“He—he said he did it, Mama. He said he was guilty. That he’s getting what he deserves, and we should move on with our lives.” Even saying the words out loud feels like a betrayal, especially now that we know someone outside of Polunsky is capable of having committed the murders themselves.

Mama seems to be holding her breath. When she pulls back, her eyes are wide open and all hint of a smile is gone. “He actually said that?”

I nod. My tears have stopped and I wipe those that remain off my cheeks.

The color drains from her face and I worry that the doctors and Daddy were right. Maybe she really isn’t ready to deal with information like this.

“Mama?” I reach out and place my hand on top of hers. It’s cold.

“He told you that?” Her eyes go to my hand.

“Yes…” I frown. “Why are you shocked he would tell me?”

“Did he tell you not to tell me?” Her voice is so soft I have to strain to hear it, but when she looks up the unmistakable anger I see in her eyes makes me draw back instinctively. She grabs my hand before I can get far and squeezes it hard. “Did he?”

“Kind of. He said he wasn’t sure you could take it right now with the stress you’re under, and he left it up to me.” I look down at my hand. It’s starting to ache as she grips it tighter and tighter. “Mama, you’re hurting me.”

She releases me immediately, shaking her head and murmuring low enough that I can’t hear her.

“What did you say?”

“He never should have told you that.”

“What does that mean?” I’m so confused by her reaction. It only firms up my resolve to get answers and I reach for her hand again. “Mama, I have so many questions.”

“Not now.” Mama stands up suddenly and walks toward her bedroom. “I think I’m going to lie down and rest for a bit.”

I stand up, confused. “Don’t you have to work today?”

She stares me straight in the eye and the utter lack of emotion I see in her feels like I’m looking into a void. As she moves through her bedroom door, she says the last words I ever expected my mama to utter: “I’m taking a sick day.”

I stop her before she can fully close the door.

“What are you thinking, Mama?” I keep speaking even as she goes to sit on her bed. “Why wouldn’t Daddy tell me? What’s wrong?”

“Because you’re our child! We are supposed to protect you.” Her face is full of defeat and I catch a hint of anger in her eyes. “Do you know how many times he could’ve told me this over the years? If he wanted to confess to someone, why not me? True or not, he shouldn’t have put this on you.”

“I’m not a child anymore. You have to start telling me what’s going on and stop treating me like I can’t handle anything. I’m strong enough to know the truth—whatever it is.” I sit down by her and go on without thinking, but I know the words are hurtful before they even leave my mouth. “And of course he told me! You haven’t visited him in months.”

She jerks back and her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t respond to my accusation. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now and knowing what happened during your last visit only makes me surer. I don’t say this lightly, Riley, but I think maybe you should stop going to Polunsky.”