It Starts with Us: A Novel (2) (It Ends with Us)

It’s amazing how a night can go from being something I’ve been hoping would happen for years, to something I’ve been dreading would happen for years.

If I hadn’t received that text just as I was dropping off Lily, I absolutely would have kissed her. But I want our first kiss as adults to be free from distraction.

The text was from Darin, informing me that my mother is at Bib’s. I didn’t tell Lily about the text because I hadn’t yet told her my mother was attempting to work her way back into my life. And then as soon as I told her about my mother calling me, I regretted it. The date was going so well, and I was risking that by ending it on such a somber note.

I didn’t text Darin back because I didn’t want to interrupt my time with Lily. But even after the date ended and we drove away in separate cars, I still didn’t text Darin back. I drove around for half an hour trying to figure out what to do.

I’m hoping my mother got tired of waiting for me. I took my time arriving back to the restaurant, but I’m here now, and I guess I need to confront this. She seems adamant about speaking with me.

I park in the alley behind Bib’s so that I can go through the back door in case she’s waiting in the restaurant lobby, or at a table. I’m not sure she would recognize me if she saw me, but I’d rather have the advantage by approaching her on my terms.

Darin notices me enter through the back door and immediately makes his way over.

“You get my text?”

I nod and remove my coat. “I did. Is she still here?”

“Yeah, she insisted on waiting. I sat her at table eight.”

“Thanks.”

Darin looks at me cautiously. “Maybe I’m overstepping, but… I swear you said your mother was dead.”

That almost makes me laugh. “I never said dead. I said she was gone. There’s a difference.”

“I can tell her you aren’t coming in tonight.” He must sense the storm brewing.

“It’s okay. I have a feeling she isn’t going away until I talk to her.”

Darin nods and then spins to head back to his station in the kitchen.

I’m glad he’s not asking too many questions, since I have no idea why she’s here, or who she even is now. She probably wants money. Hell, I’d give it to her if it means I don’t have to deal with her calling or showing up again.

I should prepare for that outcome. I go to my office and grab a handful of cash out of the safe and then I make my way through the kitchen doors, out into the restaurant. I hesitate before glancing at table eight.

When I do, I’m relieved to see her back is to me.

I calm myself with a deep breath and then I make my way over to her. I don’t want to have to hug her or fake niceties, so I let no time lag between us making eye contact and me taking a seat directly across from her.

She has the same unaffected expression she’s always had when she looks across the table at me. There’s a small frown playing at the corner of her mouth, but it’s always there. She’s constantly, albeit inadvertently, frowning.

She looks worn. It’s only been about thirteen or so years since I’ve seen her last, but there are decades’ worth of new lines that have formed around her eyes and mouth.

She takes me in for a moment. I know I look vastly different from the last time she saw me, but she makes no indication that she’s surprised by that. She’s completely stoic, as if I’m the one who should speak first. I don’t.

“Is this all yours?” she finally asks, waving a hand around the restaurant.

I nod.

“Wow.”

To anyone else watching us, they might think she’s impressed. But they don’t know her like I know her. That one word was meant as a putdown, as if she’s saying, Wow, Atlas. You’re not smart enough for something like this.

“How much do you need?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not here for money.”

“What is it, then? You need a kidney? A heart?”

She leans back against her seat, resting her hands in her lap. “I forgot how hard it is to have a conversation with you.”

“Then why do you keep trying?”

My mother’s eyes narrow. She’s only ever known the version of me that was intimidated by her. I’m no longer intimidated. Just angry and disappointed.

She huffs, and then brings her arms back up to the table, folding them together. She looks at me pointedly. “I can’t find Josh. I was hoping you’ve talked to him.”

I know it’s been a long time since I’ve seen my mother, but I can’t for the life of me place anyone named Josh. Who the hell is Josh? A new boyfriend she thinks I should know about? Is she still using drugs?

“He does this all the time but never for this long. They’re threatening to file truancy charges on me if he doesn’t show back up to school.”

I am so lost. “Who is Josh?”

Her head falls back as if she’s irritated that I’m not following along. “Josh. Your little brother. He ran away again.”

My… brother?

Brother.

“Did you know parents can go to jail for truancy violations? I’m looking at jailtime, Atlas.”

“I have a brother?”

“You knew I was pregnant when you ran away.”

I absolutely didn’t know… “I didn’t run away—you kicked me out.” I don’t know why I clarify that; she’s fully aware of that fact. She’s just trying to deflect blame. But her kicking me out when she did makes so much more sense now. They had a baby on the way, and I no longer fit into the picture.

I bring both arms up and clasp my hands behind my head, frustrated. Shocked. Then I drop them to the table again and lean forward for clarity. “I have a brother? How old is he? Who’s his… Is he Tim’s son?”

“He’s eleven. And yes, Tim is his father, but he left years ago. I don’t even know where he lives now.”

I wait for this to fully hit. I was expecting anything and everything but this. I have so many questions, but the most important thing right now is to figure out where this kid is. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“About two weeks ago,” she says.

“And you reported it to the police?”

She makes a face. “No. Of course not. He’s not missing, he’s just trying to piss me off.”

I have to squeeze my temples to refrain from raising my voice. I still don’t understand how she found me or why she thinks an eleven-year-old kid is trying to teach her a lesson, but I’m laser focused on finding him now. “Did you move back to Boston? Did he go missing here?”

My mother makes a confused face. “Move back?”

It’s like we’re speaking two different languages. “Did you move back here or do you still live in Maine?”

“Oh, God,” she mutters, attempting to remember. “I came back, like, ten years ago? Josh was just a baby.”

She’s lived here for ten years?

“They’re going to arrest me, Atlas.”

Her child has been missing for two weeks, and she’s more worried about being arrested than she is about him. Some people never change. “What do you need me to do?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping he reached out to you and that maybe you knew where he was. But if you didn’t even know he existed—”

“Why would he reach out to me? Does he know about me? What does he know?”

“Other than your name? Nothing; you were never around.”

My adrenaline is rushing through me so fast, I’m shocked I’m still sitting across from her. My whole body is tense when I lean forward. “Let me get this straight. I have a little brother I never knew about, and he thinks I didn’t care that he existed?”

“I don’t think he actively thinks about you, Atlas. You’ve been absent his whole life.”

I ignore her dig because she’s wrong. Any kid that age would think about the brother they believed abandoned them. I’m sure he hates the idea of me. Hell, he’s probably the one who has been—Shit. Of course.

This explains so much. I would bet both of my restaurants that he’s the one who has been vandalizing them. And why the misspelling reminded me of my mother. The kid is eleven; I’m sure he’s capable of googling my information.

“Where do you live?” I ask her.

She practically squirms in her seat. “We’re in between houses, so we’ve been staying at the Risemore Inn for the past couple of months.”

“Go back there in case he shows up,” I suggest.

“I can’t afford to stay there anymore. I’m in between jobs, so I’m staying with a friend for a couple of days.”

I stand up and pull the money out of my pocket. I drop it on the table in front of her. “The number you called me on the other day—is that your cell?”

She nods, sliding the money off the table and into her hand.

“I’ll call you if I find out anything. Go back to the hotel and try to get the same room. He needs you to be there if he comes back.”

My mother nods, and for the first time, she looks somewhat ashamed. I leave her to sit in that feeling without saying goodbye. I’m hoping she’s feeling at least a fraction of what she made me feel for years. What she’s likely making my little brother feel right now.

I can’t believe this. She went and made a whole human and didn’t think to tell me?

I walk straight through the kitchen and out the back door. No one is in the alley right now, so I take a moment to pull myself together. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this stunned.

Her child is out there running the streets of Boston all alone and she waits two goddamn weeks before doing anything about it? I don’t know why it surprises me. This is who she is. It’s who she’s always been.

My phone begins to ring. I’m so on edge, I want to throw it at the dumpster, but when I see it’s Lily attempting to FaceTime me, I steady myself.

I slide my finger across the screen, prepared to tell her it isn’t a good time, but when her face pops up, it feels like the perfect time. I’m relieved to hear from her, even though it’s only been an hour since I last saw her. I’d give anything to reach through the phone and hug her.

“Hey.” I try to keep my voice stable, but there’s a sharpness to it that cuts through. She can tell because her expression grows concerned.

“Are you okay?”

I nod. “Things sort of went south after I went back to work. I’m fine, though.”

She smiles, but it’s kind of sad. “Yeah, my night went south, too.”

I didn’t notice at first, but it looks like she’s been crying. Her eyes are glassy and a little puffy. “Are you okay?”

She forces another smile. “I will be. I just wanted to say thank you for tonight before I went to sleep.”

I hate that she’s not standing in front of me right now. I don’t like seeing her sad; it reminds me too much of all the times I saw her sad when we were younger. At least back then I was close enough to hug her. Maybe I still can.

“Would a hug make you feel better?”

“Obviously. I’ll be fine after I get some sleep, though. Talk tomorrow?”

I have no idea what happened between our date and this phone call, but she looks completely defeated. She looks very similar to how I feel.

“Hugs take two seconds, and you’ll sleep so much better. I’ll be back here before they even know I’ve left. What’s your address?”

A small grin peeks through her gloom. “You’re going to drive five miles just to give me a hug?”

“I’d run five miles just to give you a hug.”

That makes her smile even bigger. “I’ll text you my address. But don’t knock too loud; I just put Emmy down.”

“See you soon.”