Chapter 16 #2
She laughs. “I’m not meeting your mom. You can drop me off someplace and pick me up when you’re done, or my sisters can come get me.”
A ping of unhappiness rings in my head at the thought of her not wanting to go there with me, but why the fuck would she? You’re nothing to her, Oliver.
“Okay.” I throw the car in drive again and just drive.
“I’m ready when you are.”
“You were adopted,” I start, and she gives me a curious look before nodding.
“Yeah, my birth parents didn’t want to have me but did.”
“Would you see them again if you could?”
A pained expression washes over her and hardens all her features. Her eyes dim. “Never.”
I’m a fucking coward.
I’ve spent the last twenty minutes looking at my mom’s new place. I was expecting her to be in a hotel, but nope, she’s in a whole-ass house. With a white picket fence, backyard, and garage. She’s even in a cul-de-sac, for Christ’s sake.
The houses here look just like the ones on the lakefront. I rarely venture to that part of town because I stick out like a sore thumb among white-collared bluebloods that live in their mansions. Most of them have lakefront houses that are even starting to invade the riverfront.
I’m really about to see my mom for the first time in ten years and meet a brother I didn’t know I had.
I could turn around right now and just leave, call Sally, and pick her up. She’d probably understand, but then I’d feel bad about wasting her time with a nearly three-hour drive.
She spent the whole time just listening to me vent my worries and frustrations. I don’t even know if half the stuff we talked about made sense, but she nodded along and added to the conversation when needed.
I’ll need to apologize when I see her again. That girl is so fucking confusing. One minute, she wouldn’t even look me in the eye while kicking me out of her house, and now she’s taking a three-hour car ride to meet my mom.
Granted, she’s not physically here with me. I dropped her off at a cafe near a park. I didn’t like leaving her alone in the city, but she was certain it was for the best.
I look down at my shark-tooth necklace and take a deep breath.
Stepping out of the car, I start to make my way to the door when it opens. My breath hitches when a middle-aged woman steps out.
She offers me a warm smile I barely remember ever seeing before stepping completely out of the house.
I’m so much taller than her now; it’s jarring. I was at her shoulders before she left, and now I’m a good head taller. We have the same hair color, a chestnut brown that lightens in the summer.
Somehow, she looks the same and different at the same time. Instantly, I can tell the woman in front of me is my mom, but everything about her feels lighter and warmer, like a cloud that’s floating by the sun.
“Oliver.” Her eyes turn red.
I don’t know how to approach this situation. Is there even a right way to greet your runaway mother?
I breathe out a sigh without any idea of how to start this, so I just say, “Hi.”
That simple word causes emotion to explode across her face. She attempts to reach out but stops and just wraps herself up in her arms.
“Mommy,” a high-pitched voice calls from the door.
I look past my mom as she turns to peer over her shoulder. There stands a little boy with sandy-blond hair, but I can tell he’s my brother. We look almost too much alike.
“Are you sad, Mommy?”
She turns and marches toward the door, leaning down and placing a kiss on his head. “Mommy’s not sad, sweetie. Go ahead and find Daddy. I’m sure he’s in the backyard.”
Not really sure what to do, I run my hands through my hair.
“Would you like to come inside?” she asks.
I nod, and we both walk inside. I’m hit with a clean citrus scent that floods my senses as we walk through the house—a stark difference from the shack that constantly smells of old wood, seawater, and old food.
Mom leads me into the living room and motions toward a gray leather couch. “Would you like a drink?”
Before I answer, she’s already walking toward the kitchen but stops just short of leaving me alone in the room.
Licking my suddenly chapped lips, I say, “Water is fine.”
She nods and disappears into the kitchen.
I look over the rest of the room. A full window fills the room with natural light. In front of the couch sits a redwood coffee table with four different candles in the center.
I pull away from the couch before the leather melds to my body. In front of the coffee table is a fireplace and mounted flat-screen TV. On the ledge just below sits three plants overtaking their little pots and growing around two framed pictures.
One of them is a wedding photo with the bride and groom surrounded by people. I don’t even think my parents had a wedding, just a court-signed document.
She looks beautiful and happy with her new family.
I bite my lip, looking at the second photo. A family portrait with her new son and husband.
“I wasn’t sure if you were actually going to show.” I jump at her words as she holds out the water glass. “Honestly, I thought you were just going to drive off without even knocking.”
“You were watching?” I ask.
She nods before reaching out and taking the framed family portrait.
I swallow the rock in my throat. “How old is he?”
She eyes me for a second. “Ten.”
“You had him the same year you left.” I’m not asking a question. My tone comes out more like an accusation.
“I knew his dad before leaving. He’s the one that helped me start over.”
“You mean leave me?”
Pain washes over her, causing her shoulders to sag. “I’m so sorry I left you. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think of you.”
My jaw clenches. “Yet it took you ten years to reach out.”
“I was still legally married to your father, and I wasn’t sure how he would take me leaving.”
“So, you left me to handle it myself?” I question, hearing a crack in my voice.
“I did my best to hide how your father treated me, but I also could only take so much.”
“Dad didn’t want me either. He threw me away the minute I turned eighteen. I’ve been living on my own for eight months.” My teeth grind even harder. “While my friends are off planning for college, I’m working two jobs just to pay the bills.”
A tear rolls down her face, and she quickly wipes it away with a soft whimper.
“I’m so sorry, Ollie.” She sniffles before continuing, “I knew you turned eighteen last year, and that’s when I reached out because your father no longer had a legal right to hold onto you.
I begged him to give me your info so I could make up for my mistakes.
I should have brought you with me, but I was so scared. ”
My anger falters. She’s full-on trembling as she uses the photo frame to cover her face.
I want to reach out and hold her. Even without her in my life, I still feel that parental bond. The same soft voice she used to assure me she was fine even while drying her tears.
Then I see him again—her son, my brother—standing in the kitchen doorway, wide-eyed and full of innocence.
Did I look that innocent when Simon and I would climb on the roof and look down at the world below?
I reach around my mom, pull her into a hug, and whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“No!” she bawls into my shirt. “You have nothing to apologize for!”
“That might be true, but I’m sorry for making you cry. A son should never make his mom cry.”
This makes her cry louder, and she tightens her arms around me.