Chapter 8: Smart Girls Are Conflicted

Marley, present day

I'm standing on the porch of TJ's house with an ice cream cake in hand, uncertain if I still have walk-in privileges.

The day TJ, Shay, Pat and Darius moved in, I arrived a little bit after the movers to help with the unpacking. I pressed the doorbell.

Shay jerked open the door, looking cute as a button at seven months pregnant. In overalls and a bandana. She grabbed my finger that still lingered on the buzzer.

"Don't ever do that again, girlfriend," she smiled and dragged me inside. "You don't have to knock where your son lives. You just come on in and holler out."

I haven't knocked since, but it seems different now. I know that Daemon isn't here yet, but somehow, the place already seems like his turf, not mine.

Darius must have seen me from his upperbedroom window because he jerks open the door before I can decide. He gives me his usual cool greeting—a tucked back smile and half a wave and a casual, "Hey."

When he was very little, he was much warmer—my sweet little boy that was always happy to see me—but ever since he went school and realized his home life was not the traditional family like so many of his classmates had, he grows a little cooler with every birthday.

Pat says I can expect him to be a total jerk from about now for at least three or four years because all early teens are possessed by the devil, but I remember fifteen year old Bodie. He was definitely not filled with angst and attitude. If anything, he was always a mama's boy.

Darius, however, is a completely different kid with a completely different reality. I have to meet him where he is, and not put too many normal expectations on our unconventional parent-child relationship.

"Hey, Darius," I give him a one handed hug. "How was your day?" He had the day off from school because of the parent-teacher conferences.

He shrugs. "Fine. I did a little homework, played video games, practiced a little."

I nod. "Basketball or piano?"

"Piano, of course," he grins.

I squint an eye at him. "Boy, don't lie."

He slaps a hand over his heart, looking wounded. "Would I lie to you?" He's so very charming, and it gives me a little jolt of familiarity. Truthfully, Darius' playful nature reminds me more of his Uncle TJ than his father. I have a feeling Darius is being extra jovial because he's nervous about tonight, too.

I put the ice cream cake in the fridge as I get a hug from Shay and a blown kiss from Pat, who stands at the stove, over a simmering pot of jambalaya. TJ is pouring me a glass of wine to match Pat's, and I see he has an open beer on the kitchen table.

"Smells like heaven with a side of spice," I say as I wonder over to Pat with a smile. Pat is a stately, beautiful older lady with natural gray hair, large chunky earrings and spice equal to her jamabalaya. She gives me a full, warm hug.

"It's been a while since you made that." I peak over the pot at the shrimp and sausage tucked temptingly in bubbling rice.

"It's a lot of trouble to find the special sausage, since Landry's closed. Have to go way up to the north side. But it's Daemon's favorite," she says.

She senses when I tense and she pats my back. "Now, don't be like that. It's gonna be just fine. If you woulda ever visited him in prison, you'd know...he's changed. Grown up. He just wants to do right by his son," she nods over to the fridge where Darius is trying to sneak some of the ice cream cake. "Boy, you betta get your hands out that cake!" she scolds.

Darius peaks around the open door. "If all you adults are coping with alcohol, why can't I have a little cake to make it easier on me? I'm the one meeting my father for the first time."

"Man's gotta point," TJ says and whips out the cake, but Shay and Pat cry him down. When they don't stop, TJ sighs and shoves it back in the fridge. "Sorry dawg, they are serious, and I ain't going out over cake," he lifts his shoulder to his ears and gives Darius a defeated look, then grabs his beer and heads to the sofa to watch ESPN.

I sit down my reusable grocery sack and pull out Darius' favorite soda—Blue Sky Black Cherry. I twist one from the six-pack. Pat and Shay don't really keep a lot of soda around the house but Darius is twelve...he can handle a can or two occasionally. And I'm not above bribing my own kid now and again. Especially today.

Jambalaya might be Daemon's favorite meal, but ice cream cake and black cherry soda are Darius' favorite treats.

"I love you," he winks as he takes it from me, and my heart nearly stops. It's been years since he said that, and even though I know he's only joking around, the counselor in me thinks maybe he subconsciously means it, saying it on this day that is so...strained for us both.

He wanders with his soda into the family room with TJ to watch ESPN, and I resist the urge to follow him and have one more "mental-health" conversation with him about meeting Daemon.

It's all been said.

Over the years, I've done my best to give Darius gradual and age-appropriate information about his father and the lifestyle that led him to jail. He knows Daemon was a gang leader and a drug dealer. He even knows that I went to jail for my part in Daemon's lifestyle.

On some level, Darius understands that I made really bad choices associating with his father, and that Daemon was a "bad guy." That the gang he lead was responsible for a lot of young boys getting caught up in dealing. That some of those bangers went to prison and some to the grave in turf wars. That the drugs he sold created junkies and destroyed their lives, too.

But he doesn't know that his father is a killer. He doesn't know that his father controlled and abused me. Those are things he's not ready to know, and I'm not ready to tell him.

So I can't help but worry that even though Darius seems to be disapproving of Daemon's gang affiliation and his drug-dealing, that on some level Darius will embrace his father much more willingly than I would like.

I worry that like Pat, Darius will whole-heartedly believe Daemon has changed, because he wants to believe it.

I know Daemon hasn't changed, because every month I get an anonymous envelope in my mailbox stuffed with cash and labeled, For Darius. One if his lieutenants brings it. I've never touched a dime, because I refuse to launder his drug money anymore. And it has to be drug money— that's the only way for Daemon to earn like that from behind bars.

Daemon never sends any communication with the money anymore, because long ago I sent him the message through TJ that we were through, and to stop sending me letters and gifts, but he sends Darius' birthday cards and letters several times a year.

Since Darius was about nine, I have been letting him have access to some of the letters, after I pre-screen them. The letters have all said the right things—that Daemon keeps up with Darius' young life through Pat and TJ, that he's proud of Darius, that Darius should work hard in school and keep up with his hobbies, stay on the right path. That Daemon regrets the choices he made, that he's trying to better himself in jail, that he hopes he can meet Darius one day—though he agrees with me and TJ that prison visits aren't the best idea. Pat, of course, has always lobbied for them, but Daemon told her that I had the final call on that, and she accepted it years ago, with fairly good grace.

So it's no wonder that Darius is curious about the father he's never met.

Any curiosity I might have about Daemon right now is far outweighed by the memories of the last two months with him. The overwhelm of my unplanned pregnancy. The sadness I felt at losing all contact with Bodie. The anxiety over the secret I kept: the slim possibility that the baby I was carrying wasn't Daemon's. The pit of fear inside me that consumed all my waking thoughts with one question: What would Daemon do if he found out?

It turned out that my fears about Darius' paternity were unfounded, and Daemon never knew there was any question.

When we had the paternity test done, Pat told him the test was state protocol—a necessary part of the process to add him as the father on the birth certificate, since he wasn't able to be present at the birth to sign. TJ was allowed to bring the test kit during a visitation and the prison nurse swabbed Daemon and it was all very...clinical.

The messy came when Pat brought the results to me six weeks later and confirmed that Daemon was Darius' father. After her visit, I fell apart, crying in my bunk for hours until the guards threatened to send me to psych eval, and I pulled myself together.

I was crying for two reasons. Part relief, because I still feared Daemon's reach—even from behind bars. Part grief, because now I was tied to him forever.

But at least Bodie was free. He was locked down in juvi, but he was free from a fate that I was sure had been weighing him down since TJ told him I was pregnant and that I had said it there was a very small chance, but still a chance it could be his. Bodie and I never communicated about my pregnancy at all, but he agreed to test as well. I was so grateful to TJ for handling it all.

And for keeping my secret all these years.

I have no fear for my secret now. Pat and TJ love Daemon, but now they love Darius, too. They would never dredge up a twelve year old confession that amounted to nothing.

"Marley?" Shay is squeezing my arm. "You okay?"

I nod and take another sip of wine. "Yeah, just...nervous." I lower my voice.

"It's going to be fine," she says. "TJ will check him if he acts up."

"I know," I say just as TJ looks up from his phone. "He just texted. He's down the block. Be here in five."

Pat jumps into a flurry of washing her hands and removing her apron. Instinct guides me to Darius, but he doesn't move toward me. He just shoots me a nervous look and stays stuck to TJ's side, which is fine. Darius loves TJ like a father. It's natural he would need his support right now.

The doorbell rings and Pat bustles forward, flinging it open in a flurry of exclamation.

Daemon always filled a doorway, but he's more substantial than ever. His form has bulked up to body-builder size, burgeoning in surprisingly conservative attire—jeans, a button down, immaculate sneakers. His hair is grown long enough to cover his scalp tats, and he's grown a goatee in the few weeks he's been out of prison, I assume.

He hugs his mother as best he can, laden down with sacks in each hand. But she's seen him every day since he got out, so their interaction is brief.

"Mama," he says gently, patting her back. She catches his gaze and steps aside at once, so he can step toward TJ and Darius. TJ has his hands clapped firmly on Darius' thin shoulders. Daemon sets the sacks down carefully and looks our son over carefully.

"Darius, I'm guessing," he says casually.

"My paternal unit, I assume," Darius shoots back, just as casual.

"Paternal unit," Daemon chuckles under his breath. "Yeah, I know. I ain't been more than a sperm donor. That's fair. I want to change that."

Darius shrugs. "Yeah, you said that in the letters. Now, I guess...we'll see."

My heart is pounding at full bursting capacity. Hurting for my son that we've put him in this situation, but so proud of his composure and his maturity.

"Yeah," Daemon agrees. "Can we at least start with a handshake?"

Darius hesitates, but only for a second. He casually claps it out with Daemon. Then TJ and Darius are pulling each other in for back thumping and Daemon is meeting his new sister-in-law and nephew. While this is happening, Darius quietly moves to my side, but before I can talk to him, Pat is quietly calling him to her to take the sack that Daemon brought which are filled with flowers and wine and probably other small thoughtfuls. As the whole family moves to the back of the house toward the kitchen, Daemon blocks my way.

"Jasmine," he says quietly. His smile is not quite so arrogant as it always used to be, but then again, he's a master at reading situations. He probably senses his charm won't serve him anymore, when it come to me.

"My name is Marley," I say neutrally.

"Yeah, I know. Of course I know. TJ calls you Jaz, though. So does Mama."

I shrug. "Occasionally. But nobody calls me Jasmine anymore. Please don't."

He nods, smoothing down the buttons of his shirt. "Okay. No problem. Marley...you look..." he gaze sweeps over me, twice.

"White?" I say, with not a little bitterness to my tone.

"Yeah, but that's not what I was going to say. You look...strong. Grown. Beautiful." There's no flirtation in his tone, as he adds, "I'm glad the last decade has been good to you."

I wish I could say the same. Daemon deserved prison, but I can't imagine what it was like for him—to be incarcerated for twelve years and now to be adusting to freedom. Eighteen months in jail changed my life. Daemon has spent a quarter of his in prison.

"It has been good to me," I tilt my head toward the kitchen. There's no need to tell him about the financial struggles, the two relationships that were almost as lonely as being alone, the sadness of not fully being a mother to our son. "Darius has filled it up. He's a wonderful boy."

"I know. TJ and Mama tell me all about how smart he is. How mature. How talented."

"He is all that," I agree, watching Darius set the table as he watches us. "He has a lot more questions about all this than he let on just now."

Daemon rubs his goatee and looks at our son, then at me. "He wouldn't be alone in that."

"Daemon...I think I've been very clear, in the phone conversations over the last couple of weeks—"

"Yeah, I know. I know, you only know me like I was. I was a bad guy. A really bad guy. I know you were young and I... didn't treat you right. Manipulated you. Hurt you. Drug you down into a life you didn't belong in. I know all that. But seeing you...and Darius...it hits hard, you know? Because I loved you, I was just shit at living that love. I was a punk, drunk on power. I didn't know nothing about being a man. I know better now. Except now, it's...too late?" He puts the slightest question in the last two words, and he steps toward me.

I back up. "Yes, Daemon. It's way too late for us. It's like I told you on the phone. I'm willing to let Darius visit with you here. For his sake, not yours. If I don't let him know you now that he is able, he'll live with a hole."

He face tightens, but he only nods and says. "Yeah, I know. That's fair. But it's like I told you. You are my son's mother. I will always love you, but even more than that, I got nothing but respect for you, Marley. I'm here for you, if you ever need me, in any way."

Shivers rack my spine as he touches my back to gesture me toward the kitchen and the others. He says all the right things, but even the slightest of his touches feels wrong.

God, I hope I'm doing the right thing, letting him into Darius' life.

Dinner goes beyond well. Daemon is polite and attentive to everyone, especially Darius. It's hard to believe that prison somehow refined the man, but it did. Pat is in heaven having him here, and he soon puts Shay and Jori at ease, too.

I watch TJ. He's quieter than normal. Like me, he's assessing the interaction between Daemon and Darius. I wonder if, like me, he's seeing nothing to raise any alarm bells, but if he is still slow to trust.

If it weren't for Darius, Shay and Jori in his life, I have no doubt that TJ would welcome Darius in with open arms. But now, TJ has something greater to lose than himself.

After dinner, Daemon asks Darius to play piano for him, and we all listen to the piece Darius is working on. He's a bit of a prodigy, and I'm always blown away by his ability. His fingers fly on the classical piece. He finishes without any mistakes that I can detect. Then, without waiting for us to applaud, he switches seamlessly into a boogie woogie riff.

"Ohhh, there he goes!" Pat whoops, and we all laugh. Shay and Jori dance and TJ taps his foot. I watch Daemon's face. He's clearly shocked at how well Darius can play. I walk over to where he's standing against the wall.

"He started lessons at five," I murmur. We have to encourage him to keep up with his classical pieces, but he loves jazz and blues. The rhythm, the way it moves people."

He shoots me a smile. "He get that from you?"

"God no. I took lessons for years when I was a kid and I never could play half as well as he does. He's...special. His hands...are special."

"Yeah, I can see that," he says. "You've done a good job, Marley. Giving the boy something to cut his teeth on besides street fights."

"It was mostly your mama," I remind him. I took him to a kindermusic program when he was little and saw how fascinated he was with the instruments, so the piano lessons were my idea, but it was Pat who took him to the lessons week after week when I had college classes and a part time job.

"Yeah, but you made this..." he gestures around the room. "...work. You didn't have to. You could have given him up, especially the way it all went down. But you fought to make it all work with Pat, and with TJ. Thank you. For letting him know his blood."

I feel myself smiling at him, but the smile doesn't really go deep. No matter what Daemon says, I remember how charming he was when I first met him. And how dangerous he quickly became.

Basketball with the four boys quickly follows Darius' impromptu recital, but Shay is soon insisting it's little Jori's bedtime. TJ tells her quietly that he and Daemon are going to "a poolhall." When no anxiety at all registers on her face, I realize Shay has no idea what that really means.

Why would she? TJ had given up his active status in the Sixers long before he met her.

She doesn't know the life.

She doesn't realize that "a pool hall" is really "the pool hall" the place where the once a week gang meeting takes place on the Sixer's slow night—when they aren't working overtime to deal or stake turf. Only a few members are left to guard the stash house, and the rest turn out at the local pool hall in colors to make their powerful presence seen in the neighborhood. After plenty of carousing and drinking, they retire to a backroom for business. I don't know what actually goes on back there. No Shorty's allowed.

Shay has no clue her fiance is going to his first gang meeting in more than a decade as she wanders into the house with Jori. I see Pat through the kitchen window, ladling the jambalaya into a storage container for Daemon to take back to his place. I walk over to Darius and pat his shoulders.

"Darius, we forgot to put up the ice cream cake, and Mama Pat is far more worried about her jambalaya than your midnight snack. You better hurry inside if you want to save it," I tell him, and he looks between me and his father.

"This is the part where you want to say some stuff to him without me around," he says.

Daemon chuckles and looks over Darius head at me. "Smart kid."

"Yeah, I am. Smart enough to be involved in talking about visitation and stuff," he says.

"That's really not your call, Darius. It's mine and Pat's," I say. It is, because we share guardianship.

"I'm not a little kid. Don't you think I should have a say?" he says, turning away from me, and making another lay-up.

TJ takes the rebound and grips the ball. "Boy, listen to your mama and get in the house, before my hand has a say all over your butt."

Darius glares at his uncle for a second, and switches his gaze to Daemon. Something angry flares in me as Daemon chuckles, gives him a fist bump and murmurs. "Go on, boy."

Darius heads for the door, but turns at the last second. "Are you leavin', Marley?"

Before I can answer, Daemon twerks his head a little sideways and interjects. "You call your mama Marley? I don't know if I like that, Darius."

"It's her name. She doesn't mind."

"It just worked out that way," I say a little defensively.

Daemon gives me the closest thing I've seen to a disapproving look yet, but he just shakes his head and gestures for the ball from TJ, throwing it up, nothing but net.

"I'll come say goodnight in a minute," I tell Darius, and he nods and pushes open the door, slamming it a little hard.

"You shouldn't let him disrespect you," Daemon says, not looking at me, taking his own rebound and shooting again.

Suddenly I'm furious. "You don't get to give input, Daemon. Your cred is, like, two seconds old, here."

He gives a sharp laugh and holds a hand up to me. "Okay, Mama. Shoot me for tryna make our son show you some respect." He takes another shot.

"Marley..." TJ soothes.

"No, TJ" I say, advancing on him. "Who I actually wanted to talk to without Darius present is you. What the hell are you doing? Shay doesn't have a clue what happens at the pool hall. You gonna start lyin' to her? Now? Do you see what's happening here? Daemon's been back two weeks and you're sliding back into old ways."

Daemon is dribbling the ball, and suddenly he sounds like his old self. "T. Listen. For real. Fuck this animosity. I ain't about no throw-drown on our first night together. I gotta go up there tonight. You don't. Just stay here with your family, TJ."

"No. There ain't no animosity," TJ says, stealing the ball. "And Marley, you don't know what you are talkin' about, girl. If anybody's pullin' me back in, it's your boy, Bodie."

Daemon, who was guarding the TJ against shooting, suddenly flat-foots. He gives TJ a sharp look, then me. "Bodie? That's a name I haven't heard in a decade. What the hell you talkin' bout, T?"

Daemon watches me as TJ explains. "Me neither. But he called me today. Asking for a crew to meet him Nashville tomorrow. His girl's old man is some kind of loser that begs her for money. He just wants to scare him a little, so he'll stop harassing the girl."

"That's what he told you?" I blurt, then almost bite through my lip. It's too late, however. Daemon is too smart not to read the implication in my words.

"What do you know different?"

When I don't answer right away, he sighs. "You and Bodie...you're still thick?"

I cross to the two men, looking at both of them. I take the ball from TJ's hands and dribble a few times. Then I stop and meet Daemon's penetrating gaze. "Thick? Until a couple of months ago, the last time I talked to him was the night of the raid. But I ran into him...he just happened to be at the bar where I work nights. He came with one of his rock star friends. So I've talked to him a couple of times, that's all. Catching up, you know?"

If you can call catching up meaning his lips catching up to my hip tattoo. I hide my expression by concentrating on the bouncing the ball.

"Hmmm...but you know something about this...favor Bodie wants?" Daemon asks, as he steals the ball from me.

"Not directly, no. But I maybe understand his motivation for asking. What I know... I can't say. What Bodie told me about it...he told me in confidence. I'm bound by ethics as a counselor."

Daemon cocks his head and looks at me. "You know I'm still in charge of the Sixers, right?"

"Yes. Which is why this whole...family thing...is a joke, Daemon. You can't be a banger and be Darius' father. I won't allow it, and neither will TJ, or Pat."

Daemon grips the ball with both hands. "I know, Marley. I am forty one years old. I just spent twelve years reflecting on the sins of my youth. You think I want to shoot at kids barely older than Darius for territory? Or push poison that ruins people's lives? Hell no. Hell fucking no. But it's not simple. I can't just walk away from Sixmob."

I put my hands on the ball shaking it to get his attention. "Yes, you can. TJ did. Look at everything he has now. A business. A wife. A baby boy. Another baby on the way. Happiness. Family. Future. If you want to be Darius' father, if you want all that...with someone,in your future, I mean...just walk away, Daemon."

He laces his hands between mine on the ball, and I fight not to push away. I'll give him a moment's connection, if I can reach his humanity.

"I can't, Jaz. Sure, I could go to work for TJ, earn a livin', make a life. But if I walk away now, I leave all them boys I lead into that thug life stuck there. I can't do that. I gotta move us all to the promised land. I gotta find legit ways for all the Sixers to earn. Can you not understand that? That I paid my debt to society, but not to my brothers?"

I search his face. I feel like I can't see the truth, but I wonder how much of my sight is occluded by my old fears. "That's really what you want? For your crew to go legit?"

He drops the ball, and takes my hand. "Of course. Twelve years, Marley. Twelve long damn years I've been replaying my mistakes, mapping out the ways to make them right. But it takes time. I barely hung on to leadership in there. I've been out not even three weeks. I have to rebuild my cred, before I can shut bad shit down in favor of good ways. Surely in your line of work, you know...change takes time."

I pull my hands away from him and walk to the end of the driveway. I stand there silently as several people shuffle past on the sidewalk.I need the distance to think, but no clear position presents itself. My thoughts and feelings swirl like the sounds of the Atlanta night.

Eventually, Daemon joins me.

He stands beside me. "So now you know. I'm still runnin' Sixmob. For the short-term, I'm a drug dealer. My money is dirty. If I get busted again, I'll go away forever. I'm not lyin' to you this time, girl. I'm not trying to manipulate you in any way. I'm just beggin' you for a little time to...get right. I'm beggin you for a chance, and a little time to become the father that Darius deserves. You are a far better person than me, Marley. I don't deserve what I'm asking, but I hope you will give it to me anyway."

Behind me, I can hear TJ bouncing the ball, preparing for a shot. The buzz of urban Atlanta is on the horizon. Bass pounds in a house several doors down. The night is alive. Why do I feel so...frozen?

I'm always so frozen in my fear, in my dread, of this man that now stands beside me. And the truth is...I don't trust him yet. I don't know for sure that I believe the things he says. But TJ is right. Maybe I don't have to be scared of him, either. Maybe I can give him a small space to prove himself.

Everyone deserves a second chance, right?

"Okay, Daemon. I'll give you a chance to get to know Darius. But only here in this house. Only when Pat or TJ are here. And if things with Sixmob don't change—"

"They will. I swear." He comes to stand in front of me. He slides his hands beneath mine, and brings them to his lips. "Thank you, Marley. You'll see. I've changed, on the inside. Now, I'm going to change my ways on the outside, too."

For the second time in minutes, I pull my hands from his. "Daemon, you and I can't ever get back what was. You know that, right?"

His mouth twitches in a smile and then turns solemn. "Of course I know that. What we had...it was warped. We lived together for more than a year, I know your body better than I know my own, but I don't know you. I never gave you the chance to show yourself to me. I was too busy making you into something you weren't."

I blink. For a second I can't breathe. His insight renders me completely speechless. I would have never thought Daemon could see how toxic his attention was for me.

"I'm...I'm glad you realize that."

He nods. "I do. But now here we are. We have a kid. I'd like to get to know you, Marley. For Darius' sake."

"I don't trust you, Daemon," I say softly. "And it's like you said. Change takes time."

He nods. "Fair enough."

We walk back toward the house. I'm just going inside to say goodnight to Darius when Daemon calls out to me. "Marley. What do you want me to do about Bodie?"

I turn, utterly confused. "What?"

He turns his hands upwards, a little helplessly. "I got no feel for the situation. Neither does TJ. You obviously know what's doing on better than we do. I'm asking your opinion. Do I give him the back-up he wants? Or would you rather I wave him off?" He shrugs. "Maybe without back-up, he'll decide against the confrontation he's planning...maybe it's better that way."

The air suddenly swarms with heat. Is Daemon really serious—he's asking me to make a call on Sixmob business?

Every molecule in my body vibrates one answer. I open my mouth to tell Daemon to reject Bodie's request.

For one simple reason.

Favors from Sixmob are never free.

But the words of refusal don't come.

Instead, the feel of Bodie's lips on mine floods me. Bodie floods me.

I think about the way he is now. Wild. Reckless. Free. It's been a long time since he lived here, since his experiences in juvi. He's in no way soft, but he's...maybe even more trusting and good than he ever was.

He's rich, happy, revered.

The boy does not have his back up anymore.

I take a deep breath and unlock my words. "His girlfriend's father is maybe...unbalanced. I wouldn't want anyone to confront the man alone," I say.

"Girlfriend? This is about a girl?"

"Yeah," TJ says. "She's a pop star. They are hot and heavy. All over the internet. He's got some beef with her loser dad over money."

Daemon's eyes glitter underneath the spotlight on the driveway, but his posture relaxes slightly. "Okay, but why does he need Sixmob all the sudden? Isn't he a fucking rock star? What about his security?"

I shake my head. "He won't use his own security for this, for the same reason he won't call on his bandmates for back-up. He can't go where he's going as Bodie Jamison, Soundcrush drummer. His girlfriend's family issues aren't his to expose. But bangers don't blog. And they don't rat. To anybody."

Daemon smiles. "You haven't forgotten everything you learned as Jasmine, have you?"

"I haven't forgotten any of it, Daemon." I say coldly, all of my anger rushing back at the way he said my false name.

His expression is unreadable as he nods solemnly. "Okay, then. I'll send our old friend a crew. He was always my most reliable young gun, anyway. He deserves the love."

I'm shaking as I climb the stairs to Darius' room. I'm so in my head that I forget to knock before entering, which earns me a sharp, "Jesus! Marley!" as Darius slams himself inside his ample closet and dons sleep pants and a t-shirt over his boxer briefs.

I internally wincing at my invasion of Darius' growing boundaries. It really isn't cool that I walk in on my adolescent son, especially since we don't have the familiarity of daily living. But that same distance makes me forget that he's not little anymore. It was an honest mistake.

"I'm sorry, kiddo. I should have knocked. I guess I'm just..." I fade off...sliding down the wall outside his closet.

The closet door cracks open, but Darius doesn't exit. "You're what?" he whispers from the dark.

"Conflicted," I confess. "Overwhelmed." Images of Daemon and Bodie flash in my head to align with my emotions.

"Yeah, I feel that."

I slide my hand inside the door, hoping for contact, but Darius doesn't grant it. "I'm sorry, Darius. If I could give you a perfect, traditional family, I would."

"Screw perfect. Perfect makes for pussies." His voice is intense—strangled almost.

"That's maybe not wrong," I whisper, ignoring his profanities, and thinking of how my perfect childhood came crashing down around me with the discovery that my parents had lied about my origins. How I was so naive, so sheltered, so unable to cope with the shock I experienced.

"Did you love him?" he asks, and of all the things he could ask me, that's maybe the thing I dread the most.

I have a prepared answer...that I was young, confused, that I mistook the safety Daemon offered for love, that I never knew what love was until my baby was born. I open my mouth to say that, but the edge of Darius' fingers touch mine and the feeling of how much I love him courses through me like a physical thing.

"Yes," I say. I must have. How could I feel so much for Darius, if he weren't created in love? I tell myself that the way I feel now is a result of distance and self-correction.

I knew love. Darius is the proof.

"Do you think he's really changed? Do you think you might get back together?" he asks, and it doesn't even take the counselor in me to hear the hope in his voice.

"I don't know, Darius. It might take a lot of time for me to trust him. But I don't love Daemon now. People change. Feelings change."

"Okay, yeah, but that doesn't mean that your feelings might not...change again."

I let loose one small sob for the longing in my son's soul. I clamp my hand over my mouth.

"Are you crying?" he asks, cracking the closet door open to see my face.

"Darius...would it be too much to ask...for a hug?"

"Jesus," he groans, but he creeps out of the closet and gives me a clumsy embrace with an awkward back pat. I squeeze him hard. He allows for about five seconds, then he shirks away, crawls into bed and shuts off the light. His phone flares to life in the darkness.

"Don't let Pat hear you blaspheme like that."

"I know," he grumbles.

I see him access Snapchat, trying to shield pictures from me. I see a girl—a lovely, fully clothed girl—made cat-like with a filter.

"She's cute," I whisper. "What's her name?"

"Marley." My name is laced with venom, exasperation and a little embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Darius. I'm only twenty-nine years old. I know how Snapchat, Insta, even Tinder works. Plus, I'm not some geriatric out-of-touch mom that doesn't realize you like girls yet."

"Everything you just said proves that you are a geriatric out-of-touch mom," he mumbles. "And please do not tell me about your Tinder dates."

"I don't actually make any dates. That would be..."

"Normal for someone your age?"

"Weird. I'm older than my age."

He flips over, staring at me. His eyes are eerily light, lit from the phone.

"Do you miss Marc?"

I'm shocked. Darius acted very cool about my break-up with Marc. I didn't even think it registered on Darius' Richter scale of adolescence.

I shrug. "Not really. I mean, not like I should, considering I was only months away from marrying the guy." I follow through with the counselor's question that I can't resist. "Do you miss Marc?"

He doesn't answer. He turns away from me. His silence speaks volumes.

"Darius...I'm sorry you Marc never really told you good-bye--that you didn't get closure. I know he...he cared about you. But the whole thing was...difficult for him, too. In ways I haven't told you. In ways that are private. He and I...we just weren't...meant for each other."

"Was it because of me? Because he didn't want to take on a kid that wasn't his?"

My chest floods with horror that Darius thinks that. "No! No! Really no, Darius...Marc fell in love with someone else. That's what happened. "

"So he was just an asshole, then."

I sigh wearily. "No, not exactly. I mean, yeah, sort of, because he didn't just break up with me. He cheated first.  I don't know, Darius. Maybe I was the asshole, because honestly--after the first couple of days finding out everything, I was okay. It didn't even hurt. So I guess I didn't love him either, if I could get over him that fast. Do you understand what I'm saying? I'm sorry if you're hurting over Marc, but I've been over it for awhile now."

"Yeah. Sure. Look, this is stupid to talk about. I don't even know why I brought it up. Marc was an asshole. Case closed.  Can you just..." he sighs. "I want to be alone, Marley. I'm sorry if you are sad and worried about me right now, but I want to be alone."

My son. An expert on his expressing his very firm boundaries with me. What can I do, but honor them-especially since I trained him to express them?

How can I blame Darius for feeling upset by my love life? I'm pretty battered by it, too. Nothing has ever felt right. Except for a few train rides and coffee dates and lazy library days with a boy that I knew half a lifetime ago.

A boy that's grown up to be a rock star. A boy buried so deep in that rock star that he may only be a shadow  I could never hope to catch.

Like Peter Pan.

Even though the thought is sort of sad, for some reason it makes me smile, to think of Bodie as the Peter Pan on the walls of my dreams while I sleep. The thought gives me enough fortitude to push to my feet, so that I can let my own little lost boy find his peace in dreams.

I put a hand on Darius' head. "Goodnight,  Darius."

"Goodnight, Marley."

Oh wow. Marley has very deep family ties with the Turners. And Darius seems like a very bright, expressive, kid. And Daemon seems like...a powerful presence to deal with. Marley sure has a lot to deal with, huh?

Do you believe Daemon's intentions to change ?