by S. M. Soto
Once out the doors and into the fresh air, the realization of what I’ve done finally hits me. My eyes pool with more tears and I shakily make my way back toward my car. The moment my body hits the seat, a wounded cry tears through the car like a dam breaking free, and a sob laces through my chest. The tears fall in quick succession, soaking my face and neck.
I push through the apartment doors on autopilot. It takes me a few seconds to register Natalia’s form on the couch. The moment our eyes meet, she hops to her feet and like two magnets drawn together, I fall into her arms and clutch on to her for dear life.
“After fifteen years, all I get is a sorry?” I sob into her arms. “That’s all she thinks I deserve?”
Natalia tightens her arms around me and kisses the top of my head while shushing me.
“She ruined my life and now she thinks she can win me over with a letter?”
Natalia’s body shudders behind me and I know she’s crying with me, feeling every shred of my pain. She holds me like a child until the tears stop and I’m able to breathe. Gripping my hands in hers, she pulls away and squeezes me, with tears trailing down her tanned face.
“You deserve so much more, Samantha. So much,” she whispers. “You deserve to be happy and this rogue mission you’re on—trying to make everyone hate you—it’s not going to make you happy,” she chides softly.
I clench my eyes shut because I know she’s right. She almost always is.
“Wait here, okay?” She searches my eyes, and when I nod, she shoots up, moving me to the couch, and hurries into the kitchen.
Natalia comes back with a plate in one hand and a cup in the other. She slides the plate across the table toward me, the smell of the salami in the sandwich is so strong, it makes my stomach flip. Before I know it, I’m hopping to my feet and sprinting toward the bathroom. I dry heave over the toilet for what feels like the hundredth time this week and clutch a hand to my stomach, willing the violent retches to stop.
“Sammy?” Natalia’s worried voice drifts from somewhere behind me but my body feels so weak, I don’t have the strength to pick up my head. Inhaling deep, wobbly breaths, I unravel some toilet paper and wipe my mouth free of any vomit.
Using every ounce of strength, I push to my feet and tremble slightly. Slowly, I turn toward Natalia and force out a small smile that makes me grimace at the effort.
“I’m fine. It’s just with everything that’s been going on my stomach has been acting weird.”
She nods her head in understanding. “I get it. Maybe you should lie down for a bit.”
All I can do is nod my head in agreement. Because suddenly, lying down seems like the only logical thing to do.
Natalia helps me to my feet and guides me down the hall into my room. Blowing out a ragged sigh, I burrow into the covers and dart my gaze to her. I haven’t noticed it before, but she looks more tired than usual. Her long, brown hair is in disarray and her clothes are wrinkled. But that’s not what bothers me. It’s the bags under her eyes and the sallow tone of her normally vibrant skin that sends a pang to my heart.
“I’m sorry.”
With her shoulder propped against the door frame, she cocks her head to the side and purses her lips as she regards me.
“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”
My mouth thins into a grimace and I close my eyes. “I know,” I whisper.
She’s right. Just like she always is.
With a small smile, Natalia taps the wall before gripping onto the doorknob. “See you tomorrow, Sammy. Get some rest.”
I try to get some rest, but the guilt eats away at me. Guilt over Aliza and things I’ve said to her. Guilt over Alex and all the times I’ve hurt him. Guilt over allowing my past to taint my future in such a monumental way. It’s all so fucked.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Darkness claws at my throat, threatening to engulf me. Suddenly, a crack of light shines through the darkness and gets wider and wider until I have to shield my eyes from the beam of light. I blink furiously, giving my eyes time to adjust. When they finally do, I see her.
“Momma?”
She smiles, dropping down to her haunches against the open closet door. Her eyes are wide and alert, like they always are after she goes to her happy place. My gaze trails down to her clothes and my brows furrow. For once, she’s dressed in clean clothes and looks presentable.
“My sweet, girl,” Momma whispers as she reaches out and caresses my hair. “I’m so sorry,” she says, her eyes glassing over as she stares down at me. I cock my head to the side, watching her, trying to understand why she’s suddenly sad.
“I promised you a Happy Meal, Sammy. You still want one, right?”
As if on cue, my stomach curls painfully with hunger and I vigorously nod my head up and down.
I can almost taste the food on my tongue. The warm fries filling my stomach. I don’t even care about the toy, I just want to savor the Happy Meal.
“C’mon, sweet girl. Let’s get you cleaned up, then we’ll get you something to eat.”
An overwhelming wave of happiness engulfs me. I shoot to my feet and grip my mother’s hand with so much adrenaline running through my body.
Momma gives me a quick bath—something she hasn’t done in a long time—and dresses me in clean clothes. We walk hand in hand down the front steps of the porch and onto the sidewalk. I don’t know how far McDonald’s is from our house, but I don’t even care. The only thing I can think about is eating.
After a while, my feet start to ache, and the sun begins to set. Momma keeps her hand wrapped tightly around mine and pulls me along.
Finally, we stop in front of a plain gray building and when I turn to Momma she has tears running down her face and she’s sobbing. My heart clenches as I stare at her.
“Momma? What’s wrong, Momma?”
A sob tears past her lips as she drops down to her knees, at eye level with me. Cupping my face in her hands, she searches my eyes wildly, with her tears still falling in an endless stream.
“I love you so much, Samantha Faye. Please, don’t you ever forget that.” Her words are choppy and her hand trembles as she runs it through my hair.
“Why are you crying, Momma?” I ask, placing my small hand on her cheek, trying to stop her tears. She only cries harder, gripping my small hand in hers.
“Momma’s saying goodbye, sweet girl. She’s just so sad that she has to say goodbye to you.”
My heart drops and my stomach cramps.
Momma can’t leave. What will happen to me?
My brows crease together in a frown and I lock my fingers around her hand, unwilling to let go.
“But I don’t want you to leave, Momma. Please, don’t leave me. I promise I’ll be better,” I cry out, trying to convince her to stay. “I promise I’ll stay in the closet when you tell me to. I won’t ruin happy time. I won’t even complain when I’m hungry, just please, stay, Momma!”
By now, my mother is crying hysterically, trying to pull out of my hold as I hug on to her for dear life.
“I’m so sorry, Sammy,” she says as she forces me to sit on the front step of the building. “I’m going to get you that Happy Meal, then I’ll be right back okay, sweet girl?”
“Why can’t I come with you?” I whine, tears rolling down my cheeks.
She smiles sadly. “It’s for the best if you wait here for me. Promise me you’ll wait here for me, Sammy. You can’t get up and search for me. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I whisper hoarsely. Momma bends down and kisses me on the forehead. She doesn’t pull back right away. Her lips linger on my skin, until suddenly, she’s gone. The street goes empty and I watch as it goes from evening to well into the night.
Momma never came back.
I jolt awake with my hands clutching at my chest and neck, grasping for air. My body wracks with violent shivers as I replay the vivid dream of me and my mother. I can’t tell if it’s all make believe or if it’s just a memory I suppr
essed. It felt so real. My mother’s hands on my skin, her tears—I remember feeling her pain. I remember it all.
I just wish I knew if it was real.
It doesn’t take long for me to fall back into my dreamlike state and when I do, the rest of the dream plays out in my head, behind closed lids.
My body trembles violently as the night wind whips around me. I clutch my arms around my body, waiting for Momma to come back. Dread settles deep in my bones as I look up at the sky for what feels like the hundredth time and realize how late it is. It’s well into the night. The street is quiet, and the stars are the only source of light on this dark street.
Suddenly, the door to the building behind me slams closed and footsteps pad behind me until the man’s gaze falls on me. He sucks in a sharp breath, his face contorting with anger.
“What the…”
Cautiously, he walks down the steps until he reaches me. He looks around the dark neighborhood and if possible, the frown on his face deepens.
“Hey, kid. Where are your parents?”
I swallow thickly, staring up at the man, unsure if I should tell him where Momma went.
“Momma went to get me a Happy Meal,” I whisper.
The man closes his eyes tightly and releases a tired sigh. “Goddammit.” He takes a seat next to me on the step, leaving a huge gap of space between us.
“Do you know how long your mom has been gone?”
Slowly, I shake my head no.
“What’s your name? Do you know how old you are?”
“Samantha.”
“Okay.” He sighs, scrubbing a rough hand over his face. “And do you know how old you are Samantha?”
I look down at my scuffed-up shoes and shake my head no, once again. Slowly, I pick up my gaze and glance at the man through my curtain of hair. He stares down at me with a sad expression on his face. Letting out a weary sigh, he rises to his feet and fumbles with something in his pants pocket, pulling out a phone.
“Hello? Yeah, it’s me. We have a problem. I was just leaving the office when I found a little girl on the steps outside, by herself. It’s almost eleven o’clock, I don’t know what the fuck to do. Do I go back inside and start her paperwork, or call the agency? No, there’s no sign of a guardian. All right, yeah, thanks.”
Just as the man is ending his call, something out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. A stumbling body sways down the sidewalk, tripping over every other crack along the pavement.
“Sammy!”
My eyes widen as my mother stumbles into view. Her clothes that looked fresh and clean earlier are torn and now filled with grime. I shoot to my feet, ready to run to her, but the man takes a protective step in front of me, placing a gentle hand on my chest to keep me away from her.
“Who are you?” he barks roughly, sending a jolt through my mother’s already trembling body.
“I’m her mother,” she slurs and when she gets closer, that’s when I notice the bruising on her face. I clasp my hands over my mouth and gasp.
The man takes one good look at my mother and lets out a feral growl, stomping toward her. He grabs my mother by the arm and pulls her to the side, trying to talk in hushed tones.
“Are you fucking high? What the hell is the matter with you, lady? You can’t leave a fucking child on the streets by herself, let alone at night! What the fuck is the matter with you? It’s like you’re asking to have her taken from your custody,” he growls.
“You don’t understand,” Mom cries. “I left her here so someone can take her, someone that can do a better job than I have. I’m sick. I’m so sick and I can’t do it anymore. I swear I was just getting her a Happy Meal, but, but…”
“But what?” he snaps. “You’re high off your ass, with no food for her. Explain to me how you got sidetracked when McDonald’s is just right around the corner.”
Momma shakes her head, tears streaming down her battered cheeks. “I changed my mind when I was walking. I didn’t want to leave her anymore. I couldn’t, she’s my baby girl. She’s all I have.”
“You’re not even making sense, lady. I’m sorry, but I have to report you both in.”
“No!” Momma wails, falling to her knees at the man’s feet.
“What did you think would happen? You left your daughter on the steps of Family Resources!”
Momma’s gaze locks on me as she climbs back to her feet, brushing past the man in the brown suit. I didn’t realize it before, but when Momma pulls me into her arms, I realize I’ve been crying.
“Run home with me, Samantha. On the count of three, you’re going to run with me,” she whispers quietly in my ear. “One, two, three…”
And we ran.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I stare down at the black and white square photo. For the thousandth time, I shift, and the paper laid over the patient bed in the doctor’s office crumples beneath my weight. My heart hammers wildly and my insides coil tightly. The anxiety roaring through my veins feels like millions of hands are reaching out and grappling at me, tugging me this way and that way. I don’t know what to think or how to feel.
I just thought it was a stomach bug. That was the only reason I went to the doctor. I was sick and tired of throwing up every other hour. After taking a urine sample, my doctor strolled back into the room with a grin on her face. It all happened so fast that I couldn’t even wrap my mind around it. Nine weeks was all I heard before white noise erupted in my ears. I couldn’t hear anything else she was saying. The words “nine weeks” were on a deafening repeat.
My gaze drifts back down to the fuzzy black and white picture of a baby. My baby. Alex’s baby. It looks like almost nothing at all, but it’s there, about the size of a peanut. Tears burn behind my eyes as I tentatively place my hand over my flat stomach. The feeling that comes next is indescribable. I know I’m not cut out to be a good mother, especially after the childhood I had, but right now, with my hand over this little, precious life, a new warmth flows through my body. Its unsettling yet comforting, all at the same time.
With every fiber of my being, I want to give this child a good life. The life I never had. I want to be a great mother. I want to protect this little baby inside me for the rest of my life, but deep down, I know I’ll never be able to do any of those things. I’m too weak. I’m too fucked up. I’m damaged.
Wiping the stray tears off my face, I leave the doctor’s office with a turbulent mind that’s working a mile a minute. Before I realize what I’m doing, I find myself parked in front of the two-story Spanish-style home that I’m all too familiar with.
I breathe out a sigh of relief when I see Aliza’s car in the driveway and CJ’s Range Rover nowhere to be found. Licking my dry lips, I cut the engine and follow the cobblestone trail to the front doors. With a trembling hand, I ring the doorbell and wait.
There’s silence. Dead silence.
She’s ignoring me.
My heart falls at that realization.
I’ve pushed everyone so far away that I have no one left to turn to. I should’ve apologized when I had the chance. I should’ve done so many things differently, but ruining this friendship? It’s what I regret the most.
Frustrated, running a hand through my hair, I turn on my heels, convincing myself it’s best if she doesn’t answer. Just as I’m starting to walk away, the sound of a door opens, and her voice freezes me in place.
“Sam?”
Inhaling a deep breath, I trap my bottom lip between my teeth before turning. Dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top, Aliza stands in the wide doorway with a bewildered expression. Her blond hair cascades around her in loose waves and I smile to myself, despite the awkwardness of the situation. She’s come such a long way, from the broken girl who first stepped foot in this city, to the girl standing before me who is literally glowing with newfound happiness. I was such a bitch for saying the things I said. Such a hypocrite for berating her about her past, when I can’t even let go of mine.
“Can we t
alk?”
The crease between her brows deepens, but she doesn’t push me away. Instead, she opens the front door a fraction wider and steps aside, eyeing me warily.
“Yeah, come in.”
After closing the door, I follow her inside and slowly lower myself on the couch, next to her, in the living room. Her stare burns into the side of my face, but I avoid eye contact. I have so much I want to say to her, but I don’t even know where to start. Before I can stop myself, the words fly out of my mouth.
“I’m pregnant.”
There’s a long pause that prompts me to lift my gaze to hers. Her cornflower blue eyes widen for a fraction of a second before she seemingly gets ahold of herself and they return to their normal size.
“Wow…” She clears her throat. “Do you know how far along you are?”
“Nine weeks.” My voice sounds meek, even to my own ears. Unfamiliar emotions flash across her face as she licks her lips.
“And the father?”
A tear slips out of the corner of my eye, and I make no move to brush it away. “It’s Alex’s.”
Her shoulders sag and she blows out a breath. I’m almost certain I hear her say “Thank God” but I can’t be too sure. Aliza’s face softens, and she scoots closer to me, closing the wide gap between us.
“He loves you, Samantha. I know right now it may seem like he hates you, but trust me, he doesn’t,” she says as she reaches for my hands, giving a reassuring squeeze.
“I’ve really fucked up everything this time, haven’t I?” I search her eyes that are starting to glisten with tears. My voice cracks and a sob bursts past my lips. I’m suddenly engulfed in Aliza’s arms. Her floral scent wafts around me like a blanket of reassurance.
“Everything is going to be okay. It’ll work out, Sammy, I promise.” Her words are said with so much conviction, I almost believe them.
I break down and cry into Aliza’s arms until I have no more tears left. I’m amazed by her strength. After all the shitty things I’ve said to her lately, here she is, still putting the shattered pieces of my life back together. I feel my arms tighten around her. I’m afraid to let go. Afraid I might lose her.