Chapter 28 #3
Her curiosity piques. “You’re moving back?”
“I am. And I want to take River with me.” I push the folder toward her as her body goes rigid. She doesn’t look at me as she picks it up and opens it.
“You want me to”—she squints—“relinquish my parental rights?” Scoffing, she sets it back down. “I’m not signing that, darlin’.”
“I’ll take you to court, then.” I knew this wouldn’t be so easy.
“You’ll lose.” She barks a laugh. “What judge in their right mind would think a twenty-three year old is fit to be a parent? Over me?”
All seven family law attorneys I called said as much. I don’t have a case—it’s too hard to prove the insidious impact of my mother’s parenting. Which is why I desperately need her to agree to this.
“I’m more than happy to drag you through the system if you want to test that theory.” My molars clench. “I’m not leaving him here.”
She weighs her stoney gaze on me, and in an instant the good day is gone. “You can’t have him.”
“He’ll be happier with me. I can take care of him. I can put him in therapy—”
“I don’t want anyone digging in his head,” she bites, jerking the filter basket from the coffee machine. “You know who they always blame? The mother.”
All the pain and hurt she left me with comes bubbling up my chest in the name of my brother.
“He hurt himself, Mom,” I growl.
She slams the filter basket on the counter, damp grounds flying out.
“You think I don’t think about hurting myself?
I think about hurting myself, and no one gives a single shit about me!
About what I go through! For you! For all of you!
I don’t get so much as a thank you! And you—you.
You left. You left me! My little girl left me.
Here! All alone! With your father. He never loved me.
That’s where you get it from—your cold, rotten heart. ”
Like the orb weaver spider on the backyard gate spins its same web between the eaves day in and day out, my mom spews the same shit I’ve heard my whole life.
Accusations and threats and twisted truths that used to cut so deep, I stored them in my marrow—let them rewire the code of who I thought I could be.
From the day I was born, she built the walls of my world, and for years, I couldn’t see the sunlight beyond the mildewing stone towering the perimeter.
She never taught me to trust, to open myself up.
She taught me to run. To fight, fight, fight.
It’s all she’s ever known. The difference is now I’ve seen enough of the world beyond to know she’s wrong. About all of it.
Since meeting Charlie, I know how it feels to be loved. Truly loved.
I tune her out, letting her shrill voice dull into static as I focus on the sound of my breathing and just take it. When she realizes I’m not feeding her rage, it fizzles like the stray coffee dripping on the burner.
“What will it take for you to sign this?” My tone is unnervingly calm, juxtaposed with hers.
She shakes her head and sweeps the mess she made into her palm. “I’m not signing away my rights.”
“I’m not leaving until you do. I already found us an apartment. The enrollment secretary at the school I’ll be working at said they have a spot for him.”
She tosses the grounds in the trash, rinsing her hands at the sink.
“He needs more, Mom.” My voice cracks. “He’s too scared to ask for it, but he does. I can help him. It doesn’t mean you’ll never see him again. He wants to come with me, Mom. Please.”
Her obstinate resolve dissolves. Turning back to me, she drops her face in her hands. “I don’t know where it all went wrong. I only ever tried to be good to you kids. ”
“I know,” I say gently, even though I don’t fully agree. “You love him. I know you do. Which is why you should let me take custody—it’s just simpler that way. You will always be his mom.”
She crumples and I know I hit my mark. My nostrils flare as I lift my chin and hold steady, resisting my lifelong urge to pick up her broken pieces.
“I can’t do it, Winnie Jean,” she blubbers. “I can’t.”
My anger at her curdles into pity. She lives in a prison of her own making, too. But she’s caving perfectly to my plan. I shot for the stars, knowing she’d never agree to my first offer.
“So just let me take him then. Work with me. Help me enroll him in school, find him a doctor. We can keep this between us. Does that sound better?” I don’t breathe as I wait for her response.
She blows out a slow, defeated sigh. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
Relief washes over me so ferociously my eyes water. I pinch them shut and whisper, “Thank you.”
“But I’ll need support.”
Money. My mother wants money.
“Support,” I echo stiffly, disgust churning like a storm in my stomach.
“You know I can’t work—”
“Fine,” I grit. It’s not worth fighting her on this.
She tips her head back, blotting her damp cheeks with the heels of her hands and asks dryly, “What’s your husband think about this?”
Her question slices like a blade through my chest. If I wasn’t positive she hadn’t overheard the voicemail I left Charlie a few days ago, I’d swear she did it on purpose.
It still hasn’t sunk in—what I said, what I did, what I had to do.
I’ve been too caught up building this new life for River and me to let myself feel the ache.
I tuck it back behind my sternum so I can keep myself together.
Because even more worrisome is the scheming glint in her eye. My mother’s always been good at getting exactly what she wants.
Her gaze pins me. “What’s it like living such a well-to-do life out there, anyway? His family’s pretty comfortable, aren’t they?”
There it is—what she’s getting at.
With him or without him, I’m not letting her come after Charlie. His family. I won’t let her hustle him for money just because he made the mistake of falling in love with someone like me.
“Why do you think I came up here alone? I left him,” I say, feigning boredom, hoping she doesn’t hear the shake in my voice. “It didn’t work out.”
“I guess we’re both unlucky in love.” My mother turns her bitter smile on me which might be pretty if it weren’t so hollow.
This. This is where I come from.
But I don’t care what Katherine Rosenhoth believes, this is not where I will go.
I can’t change the past, but I can influence the future. I can be for River what I never had growing up: a safe space to land.