Page 16 of Don't Tell

Suzanne clears her throat. “Can I at least think about it?”

I nod. “That’s fair. You should take it with you. Have a lawyer look it over to ensure the terms are to your liking.”

She frowns. “I don’t have a lawyer. I’m not likeyou, remember?”

I don’t react to the jab. There’s no point when I’m this close to getting her to sign. “Thank you very much, Suzanne. You’ve been a great help.” I lean back in the chair. I gesture toward the door. "That'll do for now. You're free to go."

She stands. She gathers the cart handle. She turns toward the door without looking at me.

I speak as her hand reaches for the handle.

"I'll be seeing you very soon, Suzanne."

5.Suzanne

No, no, no, no, no!

My phone is buzzing on the bed beside me. I don’t have to look. I already know who it is. This is what she does. She waits. She pressures. She attacks. It’s all designed to wear me down so I give in to her demands. I know her methods by now. It’s more of an inconvenience now.

I reach for the phone and stare down at the five missed calls. And almost like clockwork, her go-to text messages start coming in.

Sherry

You owe me this money, Suzanne. I gave you life, and I don’t even get a thank you for it.

Sherry

I need the money by Friday.

Sherry

Don’t make me find you.

Sherry

I don’t understand why you’ll deny your own mother in a moment of need after everything I’ve done.

Sherry

If it were Marguerite, you wouldn’t even hesitate. Why do you hate your mother?

I don’t want to respond. I know better than that. Whenever my mother is in this mode, the best tactic is not to engage. Let it boil down. She’ll find another family member to pester. Maybe Darryl would end up stealing it from someone.

But it’s 5:00 a.m. I’m not thinking clearly, and I’m fed up. My fingers start moving across the screen.

Suzanne

Why don’t you get a life and leave me alone? I’m not giving you any money. Not ever. Don’t call me again.

I hold the phone in my hands and wait. No response. Now that the wave of anger has passed, I see clearly. I shouldn’t have engaged with her. I just gave her ammunition. The fact that she’s not responding proves that she’s gone past demanding. She’s going to do something about it.

I’m going to have to tell Maeve not to let anyone claiming to be my mother into the apartment.

There’s no point going back to sleep. I’m too riled up, and I have to get ready for work soon anyway. I get up and paint for ten minutes because I need to. I don’t look at what I’m painting. I’m still not sure what it is. Sometimes I see a face, other times I see a heart, and on rare occasions, it looks like a man.

I sing under my breath as I work. Hopefully, the painting will take shape soon. The image in my head isn’t clear yet. Maybe I need some inspiration, wherever that might come from.

Finally, I step back and admire it. I see a face. Strong, long raven-black hair, gray eyes. I blink, and it’s gone. Red paint stares back at me.