All the Little Lights(23)

“He was graduating, and Amber was a junior, worried he’d find someone else at college. How old is their baby now?”

“Coleson’s in college. Kay,” Aunt Leigh began. She’d spent years practicing how to handle Mom’s temper. “You told him he could stay until tomorrow.”

“Well, I’m here today, so he’s leaving today.”

“Kay, you’re welcome to stay here. What’s one more day going to matter? Let him say goodbye.”

She pointed at my aunt. “I know what you’re doing. He is my son, not yours!” Mom turned to me. “We’re leaving. You’re not spending another minute with that Calhoun girl. All we need is for you to get her pregnant, and then you’ll be stuck here forever.”

“Kay!” Aunt Leigh scolded.

“You know what John and I went through growing up here. The bullying, the racism, the abuse! Do you honestly want that for Elliott?”

“No, but . . .” Aunt Leigh struggled to find a rebuttal but failed.

I begged her with my eyes for help.

“See?” Mom yelled, pointing all her fingers at me. “Look at the way he’s looking at you. Like you’re going to save him. You’re not his mother, Leigh! I ask you for help, and you try to take him from me!”

“He’s happy here, Kay,” Aunt Leigh said. “Think for two seconds about what Elliott wants.”

“I am thinking of him! Just because you’re content living in this godforsaken place doesn’t mean I’m going to let my son stay here,” Mom spat. “Pack your things, Elliott.”

“Mom—”

“Pack your shit, Elliott! We’re leaving!”

“Kay, please!” Aunt Leigh said. “Just wait for John to get home. We can talk about this.”

When I didn’t move, Mom stomped downstairs.

Aunt Leigh stared at me and held up her hands. Her eyes glossed over. “I’m sorry. I can’t . . .”

“I know,” I said. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.”

Mom appeared again, my suitcase and a few bags in her hand. “Get in the car.” She herded me toward the door.

I glanced over my shoulder. “Will you make sure Catherine knows? Will you tell her what happened?”

Aunt Leigh nodded. “I’ll try. I love you, Elliott.”

The screen door slammed, and with her hand on my back, Mom guided me to her Toyota Tacoma pickup and opened the passenger door.

I stopped, trying one last time to rationalize with her. “Mom. Please. I’ll leave with you. Just let me tell her goodbye. Let me explain.”

“No. I won’t let you rot in this place.”

“Then why let me come at all?” I yelled.

“Get in the truck!” she yelled back, throwing my bags in the back.

I sat in the passenger seat and slammed the door. Mom rushed around the front and slid behind the wheel, twisting the ignition and shoving the car into reverse. We drove away, in the opposite direction of the Calhouns’ home, just as the ambulance pulled away from the curb.



The ceiling of my bedroom, every crack, every water stain, every painted-over speck of dirt and spider, was ingrained in my mind. When I wasn’t staring up, worrying about how much more Catherine hated me with every passing day, I was writing her letters, trying to explain, begging for her forgiveness, making new promises that—just like Mom had warned—might be impossible to keep. One letter for every day, and I’d just finished my seventeenth.

The muffled, angry voices of my parents filtered down the hall, going on the second hour. They were fighting about fighting and arguing over who was the most wrong.

“But he yelled at you! You’re telling me it’s okay to let him yell at you?” Dad shouted.

“I wonder where he gets it!” Mom said back.

“Oh, you’re going to throw that in my face? This is my fault? You’re the one who sent him there in the first place. Why would you send him there, Kay? Why Oak Creek if you’ve said all these years you want to keep him away?”

“Where else was I supposed to take him? It’s better than watching you sit around getting drunk all day!”

“Oh, don’t start that shit again. I swear to God, Kay . . .”

“What? Are facts getting in the way of your argument? What exactly did you expect me to do? He couldn’t stay here and watch us . . . watch you . . . I had no choice! Now he’s in love with that damn girl and wants to move there!”

At first, Dad’s response was too quiet for me to hear, but not for long. “And you ripped him out of there without letting him say goodbye. No wonder he’s so angry. I’d be pissed, too, if someone had done that to me when we started dating. Don’t you ever think about anyone but yourself, Kay? Couldn’t you consider his feelings for one damn minute?”

“I am thinking of him. You know how I was treated growing up there. You know how my brother was treated. I don’t want that for him. I don’t want him to get stuck there. And don’t act like you give two shits about what happens to him. All you care about is your stupid guitar and your next case of beer.”

“Something I love is stupid, all right, but it’s not my guitar!”

“Screw you!”