Torn(57)

His eyes fill with tears. My brother, the one who I've never seen cry, weeps right there in front of me.

"I don't belong." His voice is no more than a whisper. "That voicemail isn't about you. It's about me, Asher. I'm not his son."

I inch back so I can stare at his face. My eyes move across his wide forehead to his dark brows and his brown eyes. I study his lips, his nose and when he moves to embrace me, I pull him into my arms. I weep with him, for him, for myself and for my dad.

"What does that mean?" Gabriel pats me on the back. "You're his son, Caleb. You're my brother."

Caleb pulls back and wipes his face on the sleeve of his dress shirt. "I'm your brother. I won't let anything change that."

"What's on that flash drive? Can someone explain exactly what the f*ck is going on?" Gabriel's voice is edging anger.

"I will." Caleb pats Gabriel on the shoulder before he leans back down to kiss my dad's forehead. "It's okay, Papa. It's time."





CHAPTER 45


Falon




I swing open the door to my apartment, ready to bundle Asher into my arms. It's not him. It's my mom. Her face is ashen, her eyes bright red.

My lips tremble. My mom has never been to my apartment. She hasn't stepped foot in my studio. I don't remember the last time I actually saw her in Manhattan. It may have been a decade ago, maybe more.

"Mom?" I pull on the sash of the robe that I wrapped around me when I got out of the shower. I left Asher less than an hour ago. I don't know how long it takes to sort through a life's worth of lies. I expect to see him tonight though. I think he'll need me. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in, Falon?"

The mention of my name draws fear to the surface immediately. She doesn’t call me that anymore. She writes it in my birthday cards, when she tucks a ten dollar bill in the envelope. She never says it though. Not out loud.

"Come in." I pull on her hand. She's still wearing the white dress that she always does when she's in the bakery. She has a closet full of them, all neatly pressed and lined up ready for her. She must have gone to the bakery after Asher and I left to go to his apartment.

Her eyes take in the modest surroundings. I've done little in the form of decorating. I can afford it, but I don't see a point in wasting money on a new lamp or a side table if I'm not going to live here that long. I'll stay put until I've saved enough to move to Europe, unless, Asher and I…

"This is a nice place." She brushes past me towards the two large windows that overlook the street below. "It's a quiet street. It's not a far walk from the subway."

"You took the subway here?" I move next to her. "Why are you here? Has something happened?"

She pushes the lightweight cardigan she's wearing off her shoulders. "It's warm. It's hot enough outside to melt your bones."

I smile. It's something she's said for years when the summer heat blankets the city. "I can get you something cool to drink. I have water or lemonade."

"Lemonade if it's not too much trouble."

I turn towards the kitchen, still unsure of what drove her out here, but thankful that I was home when she arrived. An hour earlier, and she would have been greeted by silence when she knocked on my door.

***

She licks her lips as she hands the empty glass back to me. I'd left her to drink it when I went into my bedroom to throw on a sundress and panties. I had pulled a brush through my wet hair and pinned it up. The entire time I kept peeking around the corner to make certain that the image of her sitting in my living room wasn't a mirage.

"Asher is a very nice young man."

I look up. I feel a small amount of hesitation as I reply. My mom and I have never discussed the men I date. It's just not something we've done. "He's a good man. We have a lot of fun together."

"You love this man."

It's a statement. There's no implication of a question there. She's right. If I hadn't already said it to Asher, I would admit it to my mom now. "I do love him."

She buries her face in her hands for just a second. "Children are a gift. You are a gift to me, Falon."

My mom doesn’t say those things directly to me. She feels them. I sense that she does but I don't expect her to tell me. It's not her way. She shows her love in her baking and her cooking. It's there in the care she takes to make sure that we all get our few minutes to spend with her each week.

She's my hero. She taught me something priceless when I was a child. She taught me that hard work will bring its own rewards that money can't buy.

"I know that I am." I twirl my hair around my index finger.

She looks down at her lap. "I heard you and Asher today. I heard you when I came into the dining room."

I panic briefly, trying to remember if there was something I said that would hurt her heart. We spoke about family and how she calls us Girlies and Lads. We talked about love, our love and then we said goodbye to my family and left.

My mom hugged me tighter today than she ever does. I took it as a token of appreciation for the money I slipped into her apron. Maybe that's not what it was at all.

"You were always my Falon." Her voice cracks slightly. "I wanted a little girl that I could name after my best friend. You are her."