Nineteen
NINETEEN
Holland
T he security camera’s chimes interrupted my early morning listening routine from my bed. I’d grown accustomed to taking in the sounds of the neighborhood, the hum of engines, the clicks of heels, and the chatter of people walking by. I enjoyed the symphony of kids crying and laughing, music blasting and fading as cars drove by. It had become the background rhythm that filled the space around me like a steady grounding presence, reminding me I wasn’t alone.
Then the doorbell rang. Noble usually texted before showing up, and Ms. Elsie yelled my name from the moment she entered the gate.
Who was at my door so early in the morning on a Saturday, when 9:00 a.m. felt like 6:00 a.m. because I’d hardly slept? Not wanting to be alone, I’d gone to Noble’s house for the past few nights and lay in his arms before returning home just before dawn to continue tossing and turning. My mother’s words— Let me explain —constantly churned in my brain, robbing me of focus and sleep ever since. Exhaustion wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how tired I felt. My eyes were puffed from crying, making me look like I’d been punched.
Luckily, my phone hadn’t shattered when I had tossed it. I grabbed it and headed downstairs. I’d never connected to my aunt’s security app, so the only way to see who was outside was to look out the window. I froze.
Willing myself to move, I took steady steps to the door and swung it open.
“Ma?” All my breath escaped in that one word.
I blinked, as if the image of her standing on my porch dressed in all black was something my fatigue had conjured up. Clearly, she was real. Her near eighty years curved her forward, making it seem like she was always leaning in to get a closer look.
Ma. Patricia. The two options vacillated in my head. What was I supposed to call her now?
“What—”
“Can I come in?” she asked, her voice low and even.
I couldn’t find the words to respond.
“Can we talk?” a beat passed before she added, “Please.”
I wanted to say no. Wanted to shut the door in her face. But she was still my mother—the woman who raised me. My upbringing wouldn’t allow me to be so rude. I stepped aside. That was all the welcome I was able to give.
Carefully, she let herself in, filling the entrance with a tension as stifling as smoke. It choked me, and from the way she looked, it made her eyes water.
Ma looked around the empty space and huffed. She pursed her lips and pinned me with a pleading gaze. I loved her. I was angry with her. But more than anything, I was crushed by her betrayal. All of those feelings had me conflicted.
I walked away, not wanting her to see me cry. She didn’t deserve any more of my tears. Folding my arms, I left her in the entry and sat in the window bay.
Ma closed the door, turned the lock, and stepped farther into the house. The old wood floors creaked under the weight of her footsteps, breaking the silence between us. She scanned the emptied first floor from the front window where I sat, to the kitchen in the back, and turned toward the stairs. Dragging in another breath, she let it out slowly.
Setting her purse and small overnight bag on the floor, Ma came to me.
“I can explain,” she said, just above a whisper.
Hot tears pooled in my eyes. I swatted at them before they could roll down my cheeks. My bottom lip trembled, so I pulled it inside my mouth. Instead of completely falling apart, I focused on random things outside the window, but I could see her wringing her hands in my periphery.
“I…” she started and paused.
“All this time.” I sniffed. “You knew all of them.” Words rushed from me, quivering and soggy. “And you said nothing. Nothing! ”
She looked at me, eyes moistening. Then, she reached out, but drew her hand back. I faced her, biting my bottom lip, my face wet with tears.
“Please. No more lies.” My voice sounded so small. “I deserve the truth.”
She swallowed thickly. Walking to the window, she sat facing me and took my hand in hers. I pulled my hand back.
“The truth. Please.” I wiped the wetness from my chin.
Ma looked down at her hands. She was wringing them again. “You needed a home, so I—”
“Don’t do that!” I yelled. “Don’t make this about me needing anything. Why did you do it?” My heart slammed against my chest.
Ma closed her eyes and swallowed again. “You’d lost your mother. Not even a year later, your grandmother died from the same kind of cancer. I was a widow. Couldn’t have children. I wanted one so bad. Just one.” A sob erupted from her, and she covered her mouth, letting the emotion tumble through her. She returned to wringing her hands and then continued. “I used to babysit you all the time. You were the sweetest child.” She sniffed and wiped the tears from her face.
Silence wrapped around us. The weight of our emotions sucked the air from the room.
Pulling herself up, she sat straighter. “Goldie was always on the road. Her own family wouldn’t see her for months. Lying in that hospice, Clara worried about dying so soon after your mother. She wondered how Goldie would be able to take care of you. Would she have to drag you on the road with her? Would she have to quit show business? Singing was all she knew how to do. She had never worked a real job.”
I looked at the ceiling, trying to stop myself from crying.
Ma continued. “Goldie stayed at Clara’s house for a while after the funeral. But then she had to go on the road again. She trusted me, and asked if you could stay with me until she got back. Of course, I said yes. Then, you got sick one day, and I tried to reach Goldie but she was out of the country. So I…” The faster she wrung her hands, the faster she talked. “I just… I got so upset…thinking.” She huffed. “I understood why Clara was concerned, I…you…before she got back,” Ma rambled. She stood, facing me, crying out her words. “I thought I was doing the right thing, giving you a stable home—Goldie couldn’t.” She sniffed. “I was so lonely. I needed you. So—” she stopped talking abruptly. Her chest heaved, and then she blurted out, “I left.” The words tumbled from her lips hard and fast. Her mouth quivered.
I shot to my feet. “No.” I scoffed. “You kidnapped me. You took me away from the only family I had.” Even filled with sobs, my words were sharp enough to slice through her. A part of me wanted the pain to cut her to the core. “Left me with nothing . I could have known her. I missed a lifetime with her because of you.”
Ma dropped her head into her hands and wailed. Sobs shook her entire body. “I never meant to hurt anybody.”
I ached, watching her in pain. I wanted to hug her and wrap my arms around her, like she had done with me so many times, but I wrapped my arms around myself. I had to hold me up.
Her cries filled the room until silence once again settled between us again, with only small sniffles as interruptions.
I sat back down in the window. “You robbed me of so much.” My voice was surprisingly calm. “I never got to know my aunt Goldie. It feels unfair that you know more about my family than me. I have no memories to savor.”
Ma sat in the window with me. “I am so sorry. I wanted to give you a good life. I hope one day you’ll understand and can forgive me.”
I turned away so I couldn’t see her in my peripheral. We sat that way for a long time before she got up. I felt her hesitate before walking toward the entrance. She grabbed her purse next to her overnight bag, rifled through it, and pulled something out.
“This is where I’m staying.” She placed a card on the window bay. “I’m here until Wednesday if you want to talk. I can stay longer if you…” She let the words fall into silence.
I wouldn’t look at her. I couldn’t.
Slowly, she gathered her bags and let herself out. I sat in the window weeping, watching her leave. Watched the woman who mothered me walk away, too hurt not to let her go. This loss, I had participated in, and it ached. I was so tired of losing.