My head flies up to meet her gaze because she just said my name.
She saidmyname.
She knows who I am.
A tear falls from her eye, and I let out a choked sob.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers again.
I blink, my own tears rolling down my cheeks. There are so many things I want to say. To ask. But part of me isn’t sure if I want the answers. And another part of me doesn’t know if they would change anything anyway. I will always love my mom. I’ve never stopped. I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive her for everything she put me through.
Since I’m not sure if I can speak right now, I just nod and try to smile.
She looks into the distance and eats the cookie I set in front of her while some of the other residents play cards at another table, my thoughts and emotions reeling.
She said my name, and she said she’s sorry.
I want to ask if she knows what she’s sorry for. If she remembers not coming home when I was five, leaving me alone to fend for myself overnight.
Or if she remembers telling me to go fuck her drug dealer so he would forgive her debt and give her some crack.
Or the Christmas morning I woke up to nothing. No presents, no family, no food, and when she finally showed up, she was so high that she passed out in her own vomit for six hours and then woke up and left to get high again.
Because I remember italllike it was yesterday. Especially as I sit here, facing her.
She turns to look at me again, the recognition gone from her eyes. “Do you have any candy?”
A fresh tear slips down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away as I rise from the chair. “No. Sorry. I don’t. Take care, and I’ll see you soon.”
I’m not sure whether that’s the truth or not. Maybe once I walk out of those doors, I won’t ever come back. Because it’s so much easier to forget how hard it all is when I’m not here.
Before I leave the secure area, I look back at my mom one last time, but she’s engrossed with eating the rest of her cookie, our conversation forgotten already. When I walk through the lobby, I keep my head down, not wanting anyone to see me crying. I’ll come back another time to discuss my mother’s bill. I’m not in the right frame of mind today.
“Quinn,” the receptionist says as I pass her desk, “Mike said he wants to speak with you before you leave.”
Fuck.
I guess I’m doing this whether I want to or not.
When I raise my gaze, she bites her lip and offers a kind smile. “Do you want to take a moment in the ladies’ room first?”
As soon as I nod, she mirrors me and motions down the hall where the public restrooms are situated.
The shitty lighting only adds to the horror I see when I look in the mirror. So much for the extra time I spent on my hair and makeup for my girls’ night with Jordyn. My mascara is running down my cheeks, and my nose is bright red, along with the rims of my eyes.
Using a paper towel, I use cold water to clean myself up and hopefully calm my blotchy skin.
Mike is waiting for me by the front desk when I return, and as he slides his gaze over me, the hair on the back of my neck prickles. I hate him. People like this asshole should never be in powerful positions. Greedy, shady, and slimy as hell.
Trying to keep my head high, I follow him into his office. It’s hard because everything feels so damn heavy right now. Sometimes I wonder if this weight I’ve been carrying around will ever lighten.
“What can I help you with today, Quinn?” he asks, leaning a hip against his desk and crossing his arms over his chest.
My heart pounds as I chew the inside of my cheek. I can do this. I’ve practiced, and I can do it.
“We need to work out another payment plan. I want to get my mom’s bill up to date, but I will never be able to do that with the kind of interest you’re charging. One hundred dollars a day is outrageous and not affordable on my salary.”
There. I said it. I was direct without being a total bitch.
