Chapter 8 Hidden realities

Arden

I was troubled by my mom's words and reaction: "Something she should have done a long time ago." What did it mean? If it was the key to my freedom, I'd be ecstatic. But how did she know Pamela Norman? The way she repeated the name left me curious.

A police officer arrived at my cell, unlocking the gate. "Mr. Arden Davis, you're free from all charges. Pamela Norman has withdrawn her complaint."

I stood stunned, wondering why I was being released. Just hours ago, jail seemed imminent. Why the sudden change? The officer's forced courtesy only added to my confusion. "Please, make your exit."

Speechless, I left the cell and walked out of the police station. A taxi pulled up, and my curiosity grew. My mother stepped out, embracing me tightly. "Arden," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

"Want to cry?" I asked, attempting humor.

She sniffled, smiling. "Come, let's go."

Inside the taxi, I gave the driver my address. As we drove, I asked, "Mom, when did you arrive?"

"Early this morning," she replied.

"You... did you...?" I began.

My mom's gentle smile hinted at secrets. "Dear, I have something to tell you. Let's get home first, okay?"

"Okay, sure."

The suspense lingered, but I waited patiently.

I stepped into my place, muttering under my breath, "Home sweet fucking home." Thrilled to be back, I noticed my neighbors peeking through the windows, likely surprised by my sudden return. They must have heard the news.

I secured the door and turned to my mom. "Now that we're here, what do you need to tell me?" I asked, sensing tension in her demeanor.

My mom's faint smile masked the worry in her eyes. "Freshen up first, and I'll get something ready. Then we can talk, alright?"

I nodded, acknowledging my disheveled state. My curiosity was piqued, and I hastened to the bathroom, eager to return and uncover the secrets she kept.

I stepped into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and let the cold water cascade down my head and onto my skin. I tilted my head back, allowing the refreshing droplets to sensitize my skin, washing away the tension.

As I showered, my mind raced with questions:

What did Pamela Norman's complaint withdrawal mean?

How did my mom know her?

What was my mom hiding?

The water washed away the grime, but my unease lingered.

I slipped into my comfortable clothes and sank into my bed, reveling in its softness. "I forgot how good this feels," I thought, snuggling deeper into my pillow.

Just as I was getting cozy, the enticing aroma of conch fritters wafted from the kitchen, tantalizing my taste buds. Mom was cooking up a storm, and my stomach growled in anticipation. I got up and ambled into the kitchen.

"I'm starving!" I exclaimed, inhaling the mouthwatering scent.

"Almost ready, dear," Mom replied with a smile.

I opened the fridge, only to find it bereft of drinks. "I'll dash down the street for some beverages. Back soon!" I called out, heading out the door.

As I stepped back onto the sidewalk with the drinks, a sports car screeched to a halt, blocking my path and nearly hitting me.

"Are you insane?" I shouted, grasping the drinks tightly to prevent them from shattering on the ground.

The driver emerged, and my shock deepened – it was Rex Norman, his face twisted in rage.

"Really?" I exclaimed, taken aback.

Rex's anger was palpable. "Seeing you again only fuels my hatred for you," he snarled.

My eyes blazed with fury, but I refused to engage in a verbal spat. "Listen, if you don't get out of my way, I'll defend myself, and you can go cry to your mom."

Rex's expression darkened. "You're nothing but a bastard," he spat. "Don't think you can barge into my life."

His venomous words stung, especially the slur. I reeled, unsure what prompted this insults. Why was he so angry? What had I done to him?

Only hours after my release, the last person I wanted to see was Rex Norman, yet here he was, spewing hatred.

"Get out of my way," I snapped, sensing Rex's attempt to provoke me. "What's your problem?"

Rex's sarcasm dripped like venom. "You really don't know, do you?"

"I don't care about your life," I reiterated, frustration mounting. "You almost hit me, and now you're spewing nonsense."

Rex's eyes locked onto mine, his gaze piercing. "Ask your mother," he sneered. "The whore who raised you."

Rage surged through me, but I clenched my fists, restraining myself. Mom's heart would shatter if I got into another fight.

Seething, I turned on my heel and stormed home, determined to confront Mom about Rex's cryptic insults.

Mom's eyes sparkled with concern as I stormed into the kitchen. "You took quite a while," she said, mouth full. "What's wrong? Why the long face?"

I struggled to contain my frustration. "Just tell me, Mom. What's going on? What did you want to tell me?"

Mom's expression shifted from curiosity to unease. "What is it, sweetie?"

"Stop stalling!" I exclaimed, my patience wearing thin. "Do you know the Normans ?"

Mom's hesitation was palpable. "Why are you asking?, You should eat first."

"Mom, please!" I urged, desperation creeping into my voice.

She sighed, setting her food aside. "Okay, baby. I'm sorry. There's no easy way to say this... You're Hughie Norman's son."

My world crashed. "What?! You're kidding, right?"

Mom's eyes welled up with tears. "I'm so sorry, Arden. I was Hughie's secretary, and we... we had an affair."

I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. "An affair? I'm a product of an affair?"

Mom's voice trembled. "No, please don't say that. What Hughie and I had was real. We loved each other."

I recoiled, reeling from the revelation. "Really? And Pamela, his wife?"

Mom's face contorted in pain. "She found out and threatened to kill me. I was pregnant with you, and I had to escape for our safety."

My mind raced. "Does he know about me?"

Mom shook her head. "Not until recently. I had to reveal the truth to Hughie to get you out of prison."

I felt like my whole identity was shattered. "Oh God..."

Mom's tears flowed freely now. "I'm so sorry, Arden. I was scared and wanted to protect you from the Normans. I love you so much."

I struggled to process the truth, my emotions in turmoil.