It took me about a half hour to go four miles on empty streets. I arrived on Jasper just as the last bit of daylight was fading from the horizon. The last time I had been at this apartment, I had been sixteen years old, in deep love with the most gorgeous guy in high school. I had tutored Chris at his apartment and at my house for about three months until the relationship turned odd and weird and was too much for me to handle. Inside, I knew he was bad news, but I kept going back. The last time I was here, we had spent the night together. It had been sexual but not sex. That happened in a prison somewhere in the Mojave Desert. By the time I had decided to cut bait, it was too late. But it all worked out. I couldn’t imagine a world bereft of Gabriel. I closed my eyes, hoping for numbness.

Juleen suddenly blasted the radio.

“Turn … that off!”

“He told me not to let you fall asleep.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Whit—Mr. Donatti. You know, Gabe’s father.”

I reached over and turned the knob to off. “I’m fine.” A minute later, my eyes started to close. Juleen shook me. I said, “Leave me alone.”

“You can’t fall asleep.”

I barely heard her words. I was fading away. She kept shaking me awake. She turned on the radio again. I turned it off. When she went for the knob again, I hit her hand. She didn’t care. She kept shaking me, screaming at me, clapping her hands in front of my face. I became too tired to even yell at her. Then I began to cry in earnest. I was crying because I had made a mess of my life. I was crying because I was in terrible pain. Most of all, I was crying with heartbreak for my lost little boy.

He must be so scared!

“It’ll be okay, Mommy,” Juleen said. “It’ll all be okay.”

I couldn’t answer her. I could barely breathe, and crying was only making it worse. Here I was, a forty-two-year-old woman, completely broke and utterly broken. I had made terrible choices in men. I had abandoned my older son and I couldn’t save the younger one. I was a terrible role model for Juleen. She was comforting me instead of the other way around. What was wrong with me that I couldn’t even provide the minimum of parenting?

I dried my eyes on my sleeve. My lids had swollen shut. If I picked one of them up, I could see. My head was throbbing, and I was dizzy and nauseated. On the plus side, I could still think, which meant I had a functioning brain. I also had my eyesight, one good arm, and two working legs. That was a lot of good stuff.