Wilde Fire

Chapter 21: Present

I run home from the grocery store, leaving my shopping cart, Kelby Blackwood, and my nephew in aisle two. I can't fathom the pain I am feeling. I am running so fast and crying so hard that it is difficult to breathe, but I don't stop until I reach the house. Even though I am a wreck, I am still trying to do the math in my head. I am desperately hoping that I am wrong; that something doesn't quite add up. But it is clear. My brother died in November 2010. It is now May 2014, and the boy that stood before me in the grocery store looked to be around three years old. If Kelby and Ben conceived a child within even a month or two of his death, the timing would be irrevocable. After all, what were the odds of Kelby finding a new man to father her child mere weeks after her boyfriend died in front of her eyes; a man that happened to bear a striking resemblance to Ben?

I sit on the stairs of our front porch and put my head in my hands. I need an explanation, though it is obvious that I already know the truth.

When my parents arrive home from their errands in the city, I am still waiting for them on the porch. The second my mother sees me, she can tell I have been crying. She drops her grocery sacks on the sidewalk and runs toward me. "Sidney! What's wrong?" She grabs me firmly by the shoulders, the worry evident in her expression.

I melt into her arms and begin sobbing again.

My words come out in jumbled sentences, my cries breaking them into fragmented pieces of information. "Kelby--" I choke. "Her son-- Ben--"

Slowly, my mother straightens, and I look up to find her sitting on the porch stairs with her eyes closed.

I swallow hard, wiping my tears with the back of my hand.

My father stands behind her, his chin in his hand. He is looking off into the distance, shaking his head. He won't make eye contact with me. Neither of them will.

I know the answer to my question before I even ask.

"Did you know?"

My mother exhales as if she has been holding her breath.

Her eyes are squeezed shut so tight her lids are trembling.

"Yes," she whispers, the word barely audible.

I feel the blood drain from my face. I want to know more, but I simply can't find the words. We left Kala four years ago, not long after my brother's funeral. I was told that the Blackwood family wanted nothing to do with us; that they would consider a restraining order if I were to make contact with them. At the time, I obeyed without hesitation. I was still in a state of shock. My life was uprooted so suddenly that the loss of friends faded to the background, and my sole purpose from that point on was to mourn the loss of Ben. I missed them, especially Owen, but I didn't want to make matters worse. I thought, if my parents were so adamant to keep me away, they were doing the same. But someway, somehow, they knew that they had a grandson. They knew that their only son, the boy who they raised, the boy who repaid their efforts by trying to kill them in a burning inferno, was a father. They knew that an innocent child was brought to life following such a traumatizing moment in our lives, and they decided not to tell me.

How could they do this?

My mother reaches for me, but I quickly pull away.

I don't blame them for not making eye contact with me. I no longer want to look at them either. The fact that they have looked me in the eyes for so long, without ever mentioning such a monumental secret... I am dumbfounded.

"Sidney," my mother pleads.

I shake my head.

My father steps forward. He rarely makes intentional efforts to take control. His few attempts are generally overshadowed by my mother's overbearing presence. He clears his throat. "We did--"

"We did what we thought was best for you," my mother interrupts. She reaches for my hand again.

I back away, getting to my feet. I want an explanation, but now is simply not the time. "When is it my turn to decide what's best for me?" I reply.

I keep my back turned in the silence that follows.

There are so many things that I want to say, so many questions that I want to ask. However, I know that in this situation, I need to choose my words carefully. It is clear, after our last argument, that my dramatic reactions and hostile responses will not suffice. I would not be helping the situation, I would only be proving them right.

Of course, deep down, I know why they never told me. I know that all this time, they were keeping secrets in an attempt to keep me safe. They thought I was too fragile, too broken to handle anymore heartache, so they left me out of it entirely. They thought that making decisions for me was protecting me, when in the end, it left me feeling betrayed.

"We were going to tell you," my mother begins. Her voice is softer as she regains her composure. "I promise we were."

"When?"

She sniffles. "When we thought you were ready, Sidney. We wanted to wait until you were settled in; we didn't want to overwhelm you with so much."

I almost laugh. Their plan has clearly backfired. I don't know how they expected us to move back to a town as small as Kala without the possibility of me running into them, nor how they ever expected there to be an appropriate time for revealing a secret of that magnitude.

I'm an aunt.

"What if I was ready?" I ask. I stare at my reflection in the glass door. My hand grips the handle tighter.

"Well," my mother stumbles over her words, "we decided--"

"I understand it's what you decided," I state clearly. I know what I need to say, and the words made my stomach twist. The truth really does hurt.

I take a deep breath, pulling open the door. "I also understand that every decision you make is to prevent me from making my own choices," I finally say. "You gave Ben too much freedom, and something terrible came from it. You are afraid that if you allow me to make decisions in my life, I will make the wrong one. You're afraid that I'm going to follow in his footsteps. You are afraid that I'm too much like him." I choke back my tears. "But if you never give me the chance to make decisions for myself, you will never realize how different I actually am."