He let out a big sigh and then finished my bottle of water, “It was my mothers. One of the last lucid talks I remember with her she put it around my neck and told me that if I wore it I’d remember to be a good boy.
Maybe she knew the apple wouldn’t fall far, too.
Some of the s**t she said, warned me about, it was all riddles to me but now, I think she hated my father when she died and knew I’d probably turn out like him. Sometimes she screamed at me like I was him, told me why she hated me.
I think when she was afraid for me and what I’d become without her to guide me. When I have to make hard decisions that I know she wouldn’t have approved of, I can’t wear it.”
“You’ve been having a lot of epiphanies.” I said softly.
“Yeah,” he said, “Never told anyone this s**t, babe.” He shook hi
