For You (The 'Burg #1)(167)

I was shocked at the vision of Mary Colton. She didn’t look like I always remembered her looking, unkempt, clothes wrinkled and sometimes not clean, skin sallow, hair in disarray. She looked clean, her hair cut and tidied. She had makeup on. She was wearing jeans and a sweater, both of them washed and well-kept, her jeans even looked ironed.

None of this hid the years of hard drinking and internal abuse her body had endured. She was too thin, her hair, although tidy, looked bristly and there were steel gray roots exposed at her part, the rest of it a fake dark brown that was obviously a home dye job in dire need of a refresh. Her face was lined, her skin sagging, her hands were thin and deeply veined, the knuckles seemed huge, the bones were visible, all of this making her hands look like claws.

My Mom, not too far away and staring daggers at Mary, looked the picture of youth and vitality next to Colt’s Mom. They were close to the same age but Mom looked thirty years younger.

Mary turned to watch us walk up to her. I saw her take us both in, her eyes dropping to our linked hands and then they closed, slowly, almost like she was suffering some kind of internal pain.

Then she opened her eyes and Colt stopped us three feet away.

“Alec,” she said, her voice deep, rasping and unfeminine from years of chain smoking.

I felt my body give a jerk when I heard her call Colt that name and I swore, in his bed or out of it, I’d never call him that again. I finally understood why he hated it. Said by her, it was hideous.

“There something I can help you with, Ma?” Colt asked.

She hitched her purse up on her shoulder and shifted on her feet.

Then she said, “I been hearin’ some things.”

“Yeah?” Colt asked, even though this was a prompt, the way he said it communicated that he didn’t particularly want a response nor did he care what that would be.

She looked at me then tipped her head back to look at Colt and I noticed she’d shrunk, significantly. Both Ted and Mary had been tall, which was why Colt was tall. I stared at her, trying to see some beauty in her, racking my brain to remember her when she was younger, to remember Colt’s Dad, trying to figure out how this person and her husband made a man like Colt and I couldn’t see it.

“I heard you sorted things with Feb,” she said.

“I did,” Colt replied, his answer short, not initiating further discussion.

“I’m glad,” she told him but he didn’t respond so she looked at me and said, “For both of you.”

I didn’t know what to say but I thought I should say something so I muttered, “Thank you, Mrs. Colton.”

She nodded, I went quiet and Colt stayed silent.

“I heard other things too,” she went on, looking back to Colt.

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Colt told her and her brows twitched.

“You safe?” she asked.

“Yes,” Colt lied instantly.

Her head moved to the side, almost like Dad’s had done, her neck slowly twisting and extending. She knew he was lying.

Then she straightened her neck, took in a breath and announced, “Your father’s gettin’ outta prison.”

“Good for him,” Colt said but he didn’t sound pleased, he sounded courteous in that way people were courteous when they were in a position where they were forced to be polite but they really couldn’t care less.

“He’s dried out, Alec. We both have. For good this time. We found the church,” she told him.

“Good for you too,” Colt’s tone hadn’t changed.

She bit her bottom lip, exposing her teeth, not like Colt did when he was angry. She was anxious and Colt wasn’t giving her anything to go on.

Then she said, “I thought you might like to know, maybe you might like to –”

Mom cut her off by saying, “He wouldn’t.”

Mary turned to Mom, moving slowly still, cautious, uncertain and maybe even scared or perhaps shy and she said quietly, “Jackie.”

“You got a helluva nerve walkin’ in here, Mary Colton,” Mom told her and Dad moved closer to Mom.

“I’m tryin’ to do right,” Mary said to Mom.

Mom let out a short, breathy, angry laugh before she asked, “Do right?”

“Jackie,” Colt murmured.

But Mary said over him, “Yeah, Jackie, do right.”

“Well, you’re forty-four years too late,” Mom snapped.

“Jackie, darlin’, let’s you and me go to the office,” Dad said.

“Not leavin’ Colt in here with her,” Mom said back.

“Jackie, he’s –” Dad stopped talking because Mom gave him a look and it was the kind of look that would make anyone stop talking, even Dad. Then Dad’s gaze shifted to Colt and Mom’s shifted back to Mary.

I decided to wade in before Mom really let loose and I took a small step forward but didn’t let go of Colt’s hand.

“Mrs. Colton,” I called and she turned back to look at me, “it was nice of you to come by today and let us know about Mr. Colton. But how ‘bout you go on home and you give Colt a chance to think about all this. You want, you can come with me to the office, I’ll get your number. He wants to call, he’ll get in touch. That sound okay?”

Colt’s hand squeezed mine and I squeezed back. Through this Mary looked back and forth between Colt and me.