Maggie

It's been a month since I visited her. The thought disgusts me yet it is always so hard to drag myself all the way home to see her.

Just the thought of stepping foot in that town makes me queasy. There are only three reasons I make the drive over at least once every month and they all bear the same surname as me.

But only two deserve my effort.

Jeb's slight snore from the back seat jolts me from my woe is me moment and I remember all too quickly why it is I make this trip. Whilst I am the only mother he has even known, there are a limited few that know the truth. The one woman we bring flowers to and sit on the grass silently with, is and always will be, his mother biologically. The other is his grandmother that he never got to meet.

The only other person alive who I suspect knows the truth, may as well shout it to the world because no one would believe nor listen to anything he said these days.

So as I round the last corner and park out the back next to a shiny white pick up truck, I swallow the hurt and Ill feeling I hold towards this town that once filled me with so much joy. And I suck it up. For Jeb.

It's all for Jeb. Always

I could care less what these backwards hicks think of me. Or of Millie. They didn't know her, not really. They only know what they heard. What they saw those last few years. And somehow, that's all they care to remember and use to cast judgment with. They took the word of one family without looking into the truth because of the size of their wallet and the contributions they made and still make by all accounts, to the town.

Apparently the truth is not as important as cash.

I don't live here anymore. But part of me will always have a home here. It's the place where I feel them most. Both of them lost to me forever. So the memories that this town holds of them trumps the bullshit they like to hang on me now.

As I attempt sort myself out before exiting our old beat up hatchback, i make sure to keep my emotions in check. It doesn't help Jeb to see me get upset. He wouldn't understand anyway. Not now. He is so young. Maybe later, when he is older, I'll tell him about Millie. How amazing she was. How she shone brightly, even when her light started to fade, I could still see her.

How she gave me the best and most precious gift anyone ever could.

Him.

I let that thought sink in and calm my emotional state as I get of out my seat and move around to the passenger side, opening the door and tilting the seat forward so that I can reach to unbuckle Jeb from his seat.

For almost five he is a small boy. The affects of his mother's drug abuse during pregnancy. But what he lacks in size, he makes up for in personality. And intelligence.

This boy is the absolute light of my life. The only light in my dark. And each day I see more and more of his mother's spark in him. His sense of humour is all me though. We both love to laugh and play practical jokes. And if he didn't look like the image of his father and his uncle , it would be easy to forget he wasn't really mine.

But his deep grey eyes and tan skin give it away. To anyone that dared take a closer look before they judged me so critically, it would be a dead giveaway now that he is a McLaren.

That's another reason i don't stay for too long.

The last thing we need is those people messing up
more of our lives.
The brothers McLaren stole more than my sister's future. They ruined mine. They stole our good family name. Our reputation is gone and because of that, our livelihood.

Accidentally and out of habit, my eyes cast over the back fields of the cemetery and towards our old
Cafe. Now the McLaren pit stop. One of many businesses they still own in this town.

Who would dine in a cafe that the damn McLaren's declared untouchable after the accident and the fallout after. No one. And no customers means no cash flow.

Three months was all it took and I will never forgive myself for not being here to help.

I was with Millie, close by while she was put up in a last ditch effort rehabilitation centre, when it closed for good. My father tried but it was all in vain. He had re mortgaged our home to put Millie in rehab one too many times and The McLaren hold on town was too strong. Business died and we lost the cafe.

And then my father just gave up.

Their father was mayor. Their mother the chief socialite and Ace... he was the newest big time athlete. The survivor of a terrible accident, caused by two junkies. The town ate up the whole story. Forcing blame on my sister for chasing poor Seb McLaren, hounding him, pushing the drugs on him they said.

An outright lie. And they were forgetting the main offender. Because no matter what anyone says, I know the truth. At least, I think I do.

In one of her last lucid moments, Millie said Ace McLaren was driving that night. Not Sebby. It was Ace that veered off the road. Ace that hit the tree. Ace that survived and woke up to Sebby dead and Millie devastated. Ace McLaren and his brother were and always will be, the reason my sister couldn't hold on any longer and in the middle of the night two days after having Jeb, took her own life.

Leaving me alone and a son that never got to know his own mother.

I just can't prove any of it and I can't for the life of me figure out how they covered it up.

I'm sure his parents know who the real driver was that night. And I'm absolutely sure that they engineered it to seem like my sister was at fault on purpose. Again, I just can't prove it.

Jeb's fingers curling around my hand pull me from my memories and I open my eyes and smile at him. His grey eyes meet mine and his one dimple shows as his face lights up with a smile. He is worth every bad day.

"Let's go visit Millie buddy." I say, helping him out and grabbing his cap from the back seat.

He takes my hand and waits for me as I shove the car door shut with my ass. No need to lock it here.

We make our way down the track, hand in hand, until we make our way down to the back section. Where the graves are only marked with wooden crosses.

One day I will save enough to buy Millie and Mom a head stone. For now, they rest together, a simple cross bearing our surname at the hilt.

When we reach the gate that leads us to their resting place, my eye catch some movement where their grave is located.

No one ever comes here. And my first thought is that someone is desecrating Millie's grave. The anger stirs in me as I take a tighter hold of Jeb's hand and stalk towards the perpetrator. As we get closer the person stands and turns to face us and my heart is suddenly in my throat.

I step in front of Jeb automatically. Protecting my last piece of my sister from one of them.

Unbelievably, Ace McLaren stands just a few metres from me. In front of Millie's grave. His eyes wide and rimmed in red. His mouth opening and closing a few times, like he is trying to speak but nothing comes out.

I put my hand to my throat, willing myself to say something but I too cannot find my voice. Anger bubbles inside of me like a kettle set to full throttle.

For a little over five years, I have imagined seeing him. Thought about what I would say and how I would deliver the absolute rage I feel for him and his asshole parents.

As one collective unit, they destroyed my sister, my family business and my reputation within the space of a year.

And then they left town and hid in their mansion like the pretenders they are. Never taking responsibility for the hurt that their two sons caused.

Not once did they try to set the tone straight about how everything unfolded.

They just let us burn and then drove off into the sunset, letting the ashes of my former life blow in their dust as they did.

As he takes a slow, cautious step towards me, I can't help but take in his disheveled appearance.
Mr NBA number one draft pick does not look so polished or professional today.

No.

He looks a wreck. A small smile crosses my face but it is short lived.

Just as I'm about to turn and high tail it out of there, Jeb makes a move around my leg as his cap flies off of his head in the direction of where Ace still stands.

Before I can grab him, my mind and body in some sort of disconnect from the shock of seeing Ace, Jeb makes a move to go and collect his hat.

As he makes his way over, my mind suddenly connects once more with the situation unfolding in front of me and I yell out his name, desperately hoping Ace is too messed up to see the familiar face of the little boy now right in front of him.

"Jeb honey, come back please." I say but it's in vain.

Every thing that happens next is like slow motion.

Ace reaches down to grab the cap from in front of him, looking up just as Jeb reaches him. He puts out his little hand, slowly looking up, shielding his eyes from the mid afternoon sun.

As Ace bends down to Jeb's level, the little boy looks up, his gaze meeting Ace's eyes that hold a small look of confusion before they turn to wide open orbs.

He looks closely at Jeb as my heart beat starts to turn into a techno beat inside my ears.

He looks from Jeb to me a few times before I see the realisation settle over his face.

Oh shit. He knows. He put it together. Oh god.

His eyes meet mine as he settles the cap on Jeb's head and follows him as he makes his way back to me.

I take his small hand, holding on for dear life and trying to put on the poker face of my life as Ace stands before me.

"How old is he." He manages to mumble as I try to keep a hold of his steely gaze.

The same grey eyes that Jeb has peer back at me, but not with anger or malice. More with fear and sadness. And something else. Hope?

I swallow down all my own fear and take a deep, steadying breath before I take a look a Jeb and then turn my face back to Ace.

"Our nephew is almost five." I say flatly and watch his reaction as both of our worlds shatter in front of us. In the form of one tiny boy.

And one huge lie.