The Silver Lining Read Free Page A

also the person responsible for getting me locked up. It would be a miracle if I made it through today without getting thrown back into prison. I turned around and basically peeled my black T-shirt off and flung it across the room. Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, they did. I heard the sound of knocking on my door, and then she spoke.
    “James…James. It’s your mother.”
    I spun around in a circle, grunted and stared at the door. Maybe she’ll just go away.
    “James…I know you’re in there. I didn’t speed race over for nothing.”
    I made a slow but steady step over and opened the door. I towered over her with my six foot frame. She greeted me with a forced smile. She stood there in all her glory, dusting her hands off, as if she did some type of manual labor by knocking on my door. Her brown hair was pinned back and held up with so much hairspray, I could have lit that shit on fire, and probably caused fireworks. I remained silent and crossed my arms. I watched her brown eyes almost pop out of her head, as she took in the large tattoo that ran across my upper chest. It read ‘Mi Vida Loca.’
    “New tattoo? What happened? Did you join a Mexican gang when you were inside?”
    Her eyes jumped over to the old ink on my upper right arm. The tattoo was of the Virgin Mary and rose. She shook her head and let her eyes drift back to my chest.
    “I might have,” I sarcastically answered.
    “That’s real funny.” She paused. “You look great, James. I see you’ve been working out.”
    “There’s nothing else to do in prison.”
    “Don’t complain. You did it to yourself.” She cut her eyes at me.
    “How can you say that?”
    “I told you to stay away from Zach. You didn’t listen.”
    “I don’t want to talk about him. Why didn’t you pick me up? You knew today was my release day.”
    “Oh, honey, you know I can’t be seen around a prison. Don’t be silly.”
    “You could have sent a car and driver by at least.”
    “I didn’t want word getting out. Drivers talk. The media would have been all over the place.”
    This was my mother. Too busy worrying what everyone thought about her. Too busy to be an actual mom.
    “Yeah, you’re right. What a stupid idea. A mother who actually picks up her son from jail. What was I thinking? Gosh. I am such an idiot.”
    “Stop it.” She paused and looked at my tattoos again. “Get ready. Your brother is coming home tonight. Put something nice on and cover up all those tattoos. You look like a thug.”
    “Get ready for what?” I glared at her.
    “I’m having a welcome home dinner party for Chad.”
    “Are you serious? I just got home. What about me?”
    “Darling, I hardly feel like celebrating your release from prison is a good thing.”
    “No, but having your son home is.”
    She arched an eyebrow and released a sigh. She rubbed her temple for a brief moment and then started to dig into her purse, before pulling out a wad of money and jamming it into my hand.
    “There. Glad your home, James,” she said and walked out of sight.
    I stared down at the money in between my fingers. All I could see was a bunch of hundred dollar bills. This was how she showed her love for me. She bought me off. She didn’t even hug me once. She didn’t pull me close and tell me how much she missed me or how much she loved me. I mean, what the hell was wrong with her? The lady was currently planning a dinner party for my brother, on my release day. I shoved the money in my pocket and turned to the closet for a shirt. I quickly turned away when the mental image of Polo’s popped in my head. I looked over at the dresser and silently prayed to the gods that something of my taste would be in there. I yanked open drawer after drawer until I saw the T-shirts. Yes. Fuck yes. I tossed one on as fast as I could. I really needed to get out of this house, and away from her. Did she just say she couldn’t pick me up from prison because it would make her look bad?