Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
I stab at my salmon and push it around my plate. “I don’t know what to do.”
He smiles gently. “I think you do, honey. But I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually.”
I don’t have a chance to respond when then doorbell rings.
I look through the peephole and I nearly scream with rage.
I yank the door open. “Where the hell have you been?”
Standing on the other side in a gray suit that appears to have been slept in and a sheepish grin is my brother Langston.
26
JACKSON
Whoever said therapy is hard work wasn’t kidding. I’ve had a handful of sessions and none of them have been cake walks.
I’m starting to learn more about myself and how to better handle situations without lashing out. I’m also finding ways to channel my negative emotions like jealousy and anger into more positive outlets.
I’m swimming again. I haven’t done a lot of it since high school because it was a sport I felt my parents wanted me to participate in. I remember growing to hate it so much because I’d be berated if I didn’t win.
That kind of pressure sucked all the fun out of it. But now that I’m doing it for fun, I realize how much I actually did like it. My therapist suggested I take up a new hobby as well, one that keeps my hands busy.
If someone would have told me that I’d be spending hours online looking up patterns to crochet, I would have called them crazy, but several balls of yawn later, I’m making my first blanket. It’s nothing fancy but I’m getting better at it.
Gavin teases me about it but fuck him. I actually like it. It’s a calming activity and I can’t wait to get better at it so I can make something cool for Zora.
Zora…
It’s been a tough couple months. I fight each day not to send out a P.I. to get updates on her but I manage to stop myself. She deserves some time away from me although I miss her so much I wake up with an ache in my heart that makes me clutch my chest.
I live for the day when I can see her again, but I’ve stayed away from Champion to give her the space she needs.
Until now.
Driving down the streets of what was formally Nobel Hills, I notice that a lot of the houses have changed. Some have been repainted and some appear aged and worn. This used to be the ‘rich’ section of town. But with all the new developments since I moved away, this area seems dated. The HOA had recently changed the name to Champion Hills.
I’m sure my mother has a hand in that as she’s the president of the board. One of her last grasps of power on a community where the Champion name no longer has much meaning.
The gate is open when I pull up to the house I grew up in. I haven’t set foot on this property since my sophomore year of college. Not much has changed. The lawn is still immaculate and green and the house is still large and imposing over the rest of the neighborhood.
My mother is waiting for me at the door which is strange because there had always been a butler. She always thought it was beneath her to open the door herself.
If what I’d recently learned is true, no longer having a butler tracks.
My mother appears to have not aged much until you get up close and realize she’s had so many fillers, her face barely moves. A few more surgeries she’s going to end up looking like a weird human cat hybrid.
She’s wearing a yellow silk dress and it disgusts me. Yellow is Zora’s color. On Zora she looks like a sunflower in the middle of a green field on a sunny day. On my mother, it looks like a melted slab of butter.
She always saw herself a lady of the manor, likening herself to Scarlett O’Hara. I remember my mother saying she wished she’d been born in the antebellum days. Another example of why this woman is complete trash.
The smug grin on her overly filled lips tells me all I need to know. She believes she’s won by my coming here today. I wonder how long it will take for that smile to fall.
“Jackson, I’m glad you finally decided to come to your senses and come home.’
“This meeting will be brief.” I brush past her and go inside.
The inside is exactly as I remember. This house hasn’t been redecorated in ages which is strange because my mother would remodel every other year when I was here. Every decoration was the same, even down to the 20x24 portraits of my mother lined on the wall in her younger days.
“That’s certainly no way to greet your mother, Jackson.”
I head straight to the sitting room where she used to receive guests but I don’t sit down.