With that, I left Trent and his family. I had a sinking feeling that this whole conversation was the beginning of the end.
CHAPTER 15
* * *
I couldn’t shake this funk, and that disaster at Trent’s place yesterday hadn’t made things any better. But I had to push that aside and focus on doing what I needed to do—going to face my mother.
My emotions ran the gamut.
One minute, I envisioned my mother bursting into tears at the sight of me as she pulled me into her arms and begged for my forgiveness. The next, I was seeing her asking why I’d come back into her life, since it was obvious she wanted nothing to do with me.
I couldn’t wait to see which scenario was going to play out. I’d gotten everything lined up. My old college roommate, Tammy, was an actress with a place in Atlanta. Since she was in Australia shooting a movie for six weeks, she’d said that I would be more than welcome to stay at her place. I just had to swing by her cousin’s house and pick up the key.
Everything was set, my car was loaded up. I just needed to tell my grandmother what was going on, then hit the highway to Atlanta. I smiled as I thought of how I was chasing my dream—reuniting with my mother—and a memory that I’d long ago forgotten resurfaced.
······
“I need to go, Jacob. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”
“Oh, that’s right. You need to dance,” Daddy said. He sounded like he did when he was fussing at me. “Give me a break, Sarah. You have a family.”
“That’s why I told you I wanted to wait, why I didn’t want a family yet. There was so much I wanted to do.”
“Well, life doesn’t always work out like we want it to, now does it? That’s part of being a grown-up. You adjust and do what you have to do.”
“And you just forget what you want to do, huh?”
He let out a long sigh. “I even offered to help you open a dance school.”
“I don’t want to open a dance school. I want to dance.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, did Juilliard call?”
“No, but M. C. Hammer did.”
My eyes widened. M. C. Hammer called my mama?
“Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?” my father snapped. “I don’t even know why you auditioned for that mess. You want to leave your family to be one of nine hundred backup dancers for M. C. Hammer? That is the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard. Besides, I asked you to make a choice—decide what you wanted—and you said you wanted me. You wanted us.”
“Why can’t I have it all? I want it all,” she cried.
“That’s the problem, you don’t know what you want. I give you everything. Am I abusive? Verbally? Physically? No None of that. All I do is work and try to love you and it’s never good enough.”
Daddy was getting even madder than he was when Mommy missed the play.
“Just forget it,” Mommy replied. “You’re right. I’m being ungrateful. I’m sorry. I’m going out to get some fresh air.”
I peeked around the corner to see the front door slam as my mother left. My grandmother came down the stairs and I ducked back behind the staircase.
“I don’t know how you do it,” she said.
“Mom, please don’t start.”
“That girl is the most ungrateful thing I’ve ever seen. You picked her up out of the gutter. Gave her all of this. And she acts like you’re holding her prisoner.”
I made a note to use the dictionary Grandma had given me for Christmas to find out what gutter meant.
“If she wants out, let her go,” my grandmother continued. “Find you another one of her.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mother. I’m not breaking up my family.”
“Hmph.”
Uh-oh. My leg was falling asleep. I carefully tried to shake it to get rid of the cramp that was coming on. But my head hit the staircase and there was a large thud.
“Is that you, Brooke?” I could hear my grandmother’s footsteps coming my way. “Somebody has some rabbit ears. Hasn’t your mama told you about eavesdropping on folks? My fault, your mama probably ain’t told you nothing,” she murmured.
“Mother,” Daddy said, appearing on the side of her.
She threw her hands up as I crawled from my hiding spot.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” I protested.
“Don’t fix your lips to lie to me, girl,” my grandmother said.
“Were you eavesdropping, baby?” Daddy asked.
I slowly nodded. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to find out why Mommy was sad.”
My grandma and Daddy exchanged looks. I thought I was in big trouble, but Daddy just said, “Just make sure you don’t do that again.”
“Hmph.” My grandmother turned and stormed back up the stairs.
“Mommy is fine,” Daddy said. “She went out to get some air. You go run up and take your bath, then come back down for dinner.”
I did as he said, grateful to escape without getting into too much trouble.
······
It just dawned on me, that was the last time I’d seen my mother. Her “car accident” happened that same day.
That was the day that the lie that had become my life had begun.
“Hi,” I said, walking into the living room at my grandmother’s house. I don’t know how Grandma stayed here. My father’s presence was everywhere. His bowling medals, his photos, even his fishing gear, which still sat in the corner.
“So, that’s how you greet me? No hug, no love, just an ol’ dry hi?” My grandmother was sitting in her rocking recliner watching Family Feud. But she picked up the remote and muted the show.
Since my father died, I came to check on her almost daily. I wanted her to move out of the house and into an assisted living facility, but anytime I brought it up, she wasn’t trying to hear it.
I was silent for a few minutes, then said, “I found out where my mother is.”
“What?” my grandmother exclaimed.
“She’s living in Atlanta,” I continued. “She got a new last name. Built a new life. But she’s right down the road. She’s been there for years.”
My grandmother’s hand went to her chest. “My Lord.”
“I’m going to Atlanta,” I proclaimed.
“And do what, baby?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Confront her, get answers, reunite with her. I just know I have to do something. This is consuming me. I’m not going to be able to do anything until I see her. So, I’m gonna be gone a little while. I’ll be working out of the Atlanta office.”
“Wait. So you’re moving there?”
“I’m just temporarily relocating. My boss needs me to help out there until they get someone there permanently. I’ll use that time to hopefully rebuild things with my mom.”
My grandmother shook her head. “I don’t understand why the need to do all of that. Why can’t you just go down there, see her, and come on back?”
“I haven’t worked all of that out. I just need to be able to get away. And the only way to get my boss on board is to agree to work from the office there.”
“Are you hoping that your mother will see you, then you guys can reconnect?” she asked.
I’d be lying if I said a part of me didn’t desperately want that. “I don’t know. I just know that I’m allowing myself some time. Plus, with everything going on with Trent . . .” I let my words trail off so I didn’t cry.
My grandmother lifted my chin so that I was looking directly at her. “What’s going on with Trent?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I think we may have broken up. He’s not too happy about me leaving. I hate to do this to him. But I just can’t. Getting married is the last thing on my mind right now. And he’s gung ho on doing that. He’s focused on building a life. How can I concentrate on that when the mother I thought was dead is alive? For all I know, she’s been waiting to reunite with me.”
“Waiting, huh?” my grandmother replied. I expected her to launch
into a sarcastic tirade but instead she just nodded her understanding. “Well, I guess if there’s a roadblock on your path to happiness, you have to stop and move it out of the way.”
That made me smile.
“And who knows. It’s been a long time. Hopefully, your mama is a different woman now.”
Of course, I still had a thousand questions, but suddenly I had a thought. “Wouldn’t it be great if my mom could be at my wedding?”
“If that would make you happy, then I hope it happens.” She patted my hand. “You do what you have to do.”
The fact that my grandmother had given me her blessing made me feel so much better. And my optimism had gone up a notch. Not only was I going to rekindle my relationship with my mother, but it would make my world complete if she were there on my wedding day.
The thought made me anxious to get on the road to Atlanta.
CHAPTER 16
* * *
I’d never been one to harbor any hate in my heart, but right about now, I could give the Klan a run for their money with the level of hate running through my body.
I’d finally found my mother.
She wasn’t destitute or delusional. She looked . . . happy.
I’d arrived in Atlanta two hours ago and instead of going to get settled, I typed my mother’s address, which I’d gotten from Clint’s report, into the GPS and came straight here. And I’d been sitting here for two hours, my anger growing with each passing moment.
I’d been filled with joyful anticipation on the drive here. Now what I was feeling—the contempt, the outrage—was in a whole different stratosphere as I watched my mother pull bags from the trunk of a Mercedes. A little girl with long plaits jumped out of the car and bounced around to help her.
They had just pulled up, oblivious to my car parked across the street. My mother was looking like she was in a scene straight out of Leave It to Beaver. Domesticated. Content, like she’d just completely forgotten that she’d had a whole other life. That she had a daughter. Had she erased me from her memory? How could she erase me from her memory?
I had yet to have children but I could never imagine just walking away from them. I don’t know why, but images of Mrs. Grant, her bickering kids, and her unyielding love for them flashed through my mind. I bet she would’ve never left any of her children.
I fought back the stinging tears. I don’t know what I expected, but deep down, I had hoped to find my mother incapacitated, confined to a wheelchair even, unable to talk. Maybe that would explain everything. Because this explained nothing. In fact, it opened the door to more questions.
······
“I wanted to go shopping with you.”
The tears were streaming down my face as my mother waltzed in with a handful of bags. I’d been sitting by the window, waiting on her to get home for the past three hours.
“You said last night that I could go,” I cried.
“Awww, sweetie, you were asleep and I didn’t want to bother you,” she said as she set her bags on the sofa.
“Hmph.”
My grandmother’s huffing caused both of our attention to turn to her. She was standing in the entryway from the dining room. She’d been in and out of the living room trying to console me since I’d awakened to find my mother gone this morning.
“More like you didn’t want to be bothered,” my grandmother mumbled before disappearing back into the kitchen.
······
I had no memories of shopping with my mother. I only recalled that one of wanting to shop with her.
So this sight infuriated me.
My mother kissed the little girl on the head and handed her a bag. Oh, how I wished I could hear their conversation. I started to get out, stomp out, and bust up her perfect little picture. In fact, I had just reached for my driver’s-side door handle when my cell phone rang.
I looked down to see April’s number and contemplated not answering. But she’d been blowing my phone up since I crossed the Atlanta city limits.
“Did you find her?” she asked as soon as I said “Hello.”
“I did.” I glared in my mother’s direction as some man opened the door for them to enter the house. “She’s living the perfect little life.”
“Wow,” April said. “What did she say when you told her who you were? I knew I should’ve come.”
“I haven’t approached her yet. I’m parked outside of her house, watching her.”
“Watching her?” April replied. “For what? When are you going to go introduce yourself?”
“I don’t know. I thought it would be the first thing I did, but I guess . . . I don’t know. I just wasn’t expecting this. I guess I hadn’t thought this all the way through.” The sick feeling in my gut intensified.
“Well, why are you just sitting in the car? You wanted some answers. The only way you’re going to get them is to go talk to her.”
The front door opened and my mother and the little girl came out and got back in the car. The man was with them. “Wait, they’re leaving. It’s Sarah, some man, and a little girl.”
“A little girl?” April sounded like she was in the middle of a suspenseful movie waiting to find out what happened next. “Who is she?”
“I told you, I don’t know anything yet.”
They started backing out of the driveway, so I put April on speakerphone, started my car, threw it into drive, and followed them.
“What are they doing now?” April asked.
“They’re going somewhere and I’m following them.”
“Following them? Where?”
“I don’t know,” I snapped, weaving in and out of traffic trying to catch up to them. A driver I’d just cut off blared his horn and shot me the middle finger.
“Screw you, too!” I yelled. I was shaking because I didn’t know what I was doing. Why was I following them?
“Brooke, maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” April said, her voice full of apprehension.
“Do you think the little girl is hers?” I asked.
“Maybe she’s babysitting.” April’s tone was hushed, like she was privy to some big secret. “I don’t know.”
I thought about the loving way Sarah had stroked that little girl’s hair before handing her the shopping bag. That was . . . a mother’s love. The thought made me sick from the inside.
Silence filled the car as I exited the freeway. They were three cars in front of me.
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” April repeated. “Maybe you should come home and rethink this plan and we figure out what we’re going to do.”
“No. I’m here now. And I’m not leaving Atlanta until I confront her.” I silently noted how now, instead of planning to see her, I was preparing to confront her. “Besides, it’s only going to take a minute for me to get things set up in the Atlanta office, so I have a little time. I just need to figure some stuff out.”
I followed them a few more blocks until they pulled in front of an ice cream shop called Jubilee.
“They’re parking. So let me call you later,” I said.
April let out a long sigh. “Be careful, okay? I love you.”
“I will. And I love you back.”
I hung up the phone and parked a couple of cars down. I got out and slipped on my shades. At least my mother was consistent with the need to give kids sweets. Getting ice cream was one of the things she used to love doing with me.
The little girl bounced with delight as my mother and the man each took one of her hands. They looked so happy. Something I couldn’t recall her ever being with my father. I lingered back before following them inside.
Maybe she is the babysitter, I told myself. Or better yet, maybe it was the man’s daughter and my mom was just playing stepmom. Although that still stung, I could process that much better than the idea that Sarah had basically written me off and given birth to my replacement.
“Please Mommy and Daddy, can I have sprinkles on my ice cream?” the little girl said once they approa
ched the counter.
Mommy. I almost lost my balance. I held on to the counter to steady myself, then grabbed a menu when a couple of people looked my way.
“Yes, you may,” my mother replied. “And since you did so well at piano lessons this morning, let’s make it two scoops with sprinkles!”
Piano lessons, trips to the ice cream parlor. They were just the regular all-American family. While her real family—while I was hundreds of miles away, grieving her. The thought pissed me off all over again.
“May I help you?”
I jumped at the sound of the server’s voice. “Not yet, still deciding.”
I peeked over the menu as my mother and her family laughed, picked up their orders, and then went and took a seat over in the corner. I ordered a plain vanilla ice cream cone, then sat at the table behind them with my back to my mother. It was crazy, but I wondered if she could feel my presence. Didn’t motherhood give you some kind of telepathic connection?
After a few minutes of frivolous conversation, the door to the ice cream shop opened and a handsome young man walked inside. With a head full of curly hair and deep dimples, he was a younger replica of the man sitting across from my mother. I didn’t even realize it, but my eyes followed him until I was all but turned around in my seat. I quickly composed myself and shifted my body so I wasn’t so blatantly obvious.
“What’s up?” he said, pulling out a chair at their table and plopping down in it.
“Hello, son,” the man replied. “Glad you could take time out of your busy day to spend a few minutes with your family.”
“I’m at work. I could barely break away,” he said, scooting the chair closer to their table. He dipped a finger in the little girl’s ice cream.
“Ewww,” she squealed as they all laughed.
“Well, we’re glad you made time,” my mother said, patting his cheek. Could that be her son? I immediately started doing calculations in my head. He had to be about twenty-five. Maybe that’s why she left. She was pregnant and it wasn’t my father’s child. Still, how could she have left me behind?
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