Some People Change (Currently Editing)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The next day, Jackson picked me up around eight in the morning. The minute he walked through the door, I flung my arms around him and he chuckled gently.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“Alright. You?”

“I’m doing pretty well.”

Amy was there to see me off and she told Jackson to bring me back not later than nine.

“I’ll see you when you get back, sweetie,” Amy told me before she kissed my cheek.

“Bye, Amy.”

She waved as Jackson and I backed out of the driveway, and I watched her until she had disappeared from my sight.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Jackson asked.

“It’s a little too late to back out now. How exactly do you know that my mother wants to see me?”

“She called me the other day. Said she was out of the hospital We talked a little about Joanne, and she said that she missed you and wanted to see you. She sounded so desperate. I told her that I would call you and tell you what she told me. But I also said to your mom if you said   ‘no’ then that was it. I wasn’t going to ask you again. By the way, how are you coping…I mean, about Joanne.”

“I’m okay.”

“Amy said that you found out by a newspaper article. I’m sorry that I didn’t call you to talk about it, sweetheart.”

“It’s alright.”

It took an hour to reach the old park by my house. That’s apparently where my mom planned to meet me.

The sun was shining, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Everything seemed to be in it’s place, but then there she was, sitting there. It felt like my mother was the only thing standing in the way of this being a perfect day.

“Annie,” Jackson said.

My mother looked up and beckoned us over. Jackson took my hand in his and together we sauntered over to her.

“Hi, Jackson. Hey, Kayla.”

“Hi, Mom.”

She didn’t sound drunk or like she was on drugs, and I thought for sure once she got out of prison that she would return to her old ways. But maybe not. Maybe she had changed, and I opened myself up to that idea.

“Baby, I’m just going to walk around for a bit while you and your mom talk,” Jackson said.

He leaned down to plant a kiss on my forehead, and then he left me alone with my mother.

“Sit,” she ordered rather aggressively.

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure her out. 

“I’d rather stand,” I replied.

“I don’t bite.”

“I wish I could believe you, but I can’t. Why did you want to see me?”

“To inform you of something.”

“And that would be…”

“You’re next.”

“I’m next? You sounded sober a few minute ago, but now I’m not sure. How many drugs are you on?”

“That’s what he told me when he tried to kill me.”

“Do you mean Tom?”

“Yes. You’re next. You’re next.”