“You’re right, I don’t know you, but I know your son, and what you’re doing is destroying him.”

“You don’t know anything about that boy. You spend a few weeks with him, and now you know the ins and outs of how his brain works? You don’t know anything. That kid is messed up.”

“I wonder what made him that way.”

He grimaced, turning to walk out.

“You’re stealing his life away,” I told him.

He paused. “Pick your next words wisely.”

“You are. Do you know he doesn’t even like working on cars? He wanted to go to college to study art, like his mother. He wanted to see the world.”

“Now I know you know nothing about Jackson. He loves cars.”

“No, he learned so he could help out around here. He wanted to help take care of you.”

“Nobody asked for his help.”

“Yes.” I nodded. “They did.”

He raised an eyebrow and grumbled, “What are you talking about?”

“The last thing your wife said to him was, ‘Take care of your father.’”

“You got some nerve walking into my shop and talking about my dead wife. You know nothing about her.”

“No, but I do know my father loved her, and I know she loved him, too. I know that when she told you she was in love with another man, it cracked your heart. I know you know what betrayal feels like. Trust me, I know it, too.” He didn’t say a word, so I continued speaking. “Jackson knows how much you’ve been through. Even on your darkest days, he still loves you. He loves his mother too, which is why he’ll never leave your side. That was the last request she ever made of him, for him to take care of you, but while he’s picking you up, he’s missing out on living himself. On the day he lost his mother, he lost his father too, and every morning he wakes up scared he’s going to be burying you any day now.”

“So what, are you here to just tell me what a fuck-up I am? How I ruined his life?”

“No, I’m here to say you always have the opportunity to make things right. Right now, you have a choice: whiskey or Jackson.”

He looked down at the alcohol in his cup and let out a low sigh. “You should leave.”

“Okay, but for once in your life, how about you be the parent to your son instead of it being the other way around?”

“She’s right, you know, Mike,” a voice said behind me, and I turned to see Mama standing there. “You’ve been a child to your own son for years, and I’m not judging you, because I have been the same thing to my girls. All those years ago, both of us were betrayed. We were both hurt by the two people who meant the most to us. We took that heartbreak out on our own children. Even with all the darkness we sent their way, they still managed to have goodness in them.” She walked over to Mike and frowned, placing a hand on his forearm. “Aren’t you tired of being angry?” she asked him.

His upper lip twitched as he lowered his mug down to the table. “He wanted to study art?”

“Yes,” I told him.

“He hasn’t spoken about art since Hannah…” His words faded off, and I felt my gut tighten. He was so unbelievably sad. It was painful to watch.

“When was the last time you two have actually spoken to one another? Had a real conversation?”

The pain in his expression only intensified as he turned to leave the shop.

I stepped toward him to try to express my thoughts more to him, but Mama placed a hand on my shoulder. “Let him go, Gracelyn Mae.”

“I just want to break through to him.”

“Trust me.” She shook her head. “He heard every single word you said.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because his eyes showed me exactly how my heart feels.”

It made me sad to know Mama was hurting so much. Had she been hurting as long as Mike had? Why hadn’t I ever taken the time to zoom in on my own mother? Perhaps it was because children oftentimes forgot that their parents were human, too. Perhaps it was because we assumed they had everything figured out, due to the fake smiles they delivered our way.

“What were you doing here, anyway?” I asked her.

“Looking for you. I heard you were seen walking into the shop.”

“I just got here,” I mentioned. “How could you hear that already?”

“It’s Chester, darling. News travels fast. Which is why I wanted to be the first to tell you. Your father and I decided to separate. Well, he decided. I was forced to agree.”

“Mama,” I started, but she shook her head, giving me a sad smile.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I owe you an apology, though. For the past summer, for the past forever years. I put too much pressure on you and your sister to be perfect, to be loyal to people who didn’t deserve your loyalty.”