“I did keep your first shoe. Even had it bronzed.”
“Bronzed? I didn’t think anyone did that anymore.”
A pause, and then a light laugh. “It was your father’s idea. But I kept it. When I signed away my parental rights, I sent almost everything I had of yours to your father. But I kept that shoe. As a little memento. A reminder of the life I could have had, the one I threw away. Maybe I wanted something so I’d remember to never fuck myself over like that again.”
“Where is it now? The shoe, I mean.”
“In a box somewhere.”
“Oh.”
I try not to be disappointed that she didn’t say something like “displayed proudly on my mantel.”
“I was thinking,” she says, “that maybe I would like to meet you. But I can’t afford to make the trip to Colorado. But if you’re ever in Palm Springs…”
“Yeah. Sure, I could come to you.”
“But I want you to know that I’m not after your money,” she says adamantly. “If that’s what I wanted, I would have come around years ago, when I was a hair’s breadth away from living on the street.”
“I never thought that,” I say. “And I don’t expect anything from you. I don’t expect you to have some kind of motherly feeling for me.”
“That’s good. I’m not the nurturing type. But could I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Was Marjorie Steel the nurturing type?”
I can’t help it. I laugh. The thought of anyone even questioning my mother’s mothering is…well…laughable.
“She was,” I say, “and then some. Still is, to be honest.”
“And you love her?”
“I do. Very much. She and Dad both. They were excellent parents. You told me before that you did what you thought was best for both of us. I don’t know if it was best for you, but it was certainly best for me. And I thank you for it.”
She pauses a moment. Do I hear a sniffle?
Finally, she says, “You’re welcome, sugar. I sure never expected anyone to thank me for anything. You might be the first person who ever has. I guess this old bird finally did something right.”
“I’m sure you’ve done a lot of things right.”
“I’m sure I haven’t, but it’s kind of you to say it.”
I’m sure, in that moment.
I was pretty sure before, but now I know I’m going to set Frankie Stokes up for the rest of her life. If she wants to continue living with her Golden Girls, fine. But if she doesn’t? It’s the best condo in Palm Springs for her, a new car, and whatever the hell else she wants. Either way, she’ll have my support until her dying breath.
Because she did two things right.
She gave birth to me.
And she let me go.
“Tell you what,” I say. “I’ve got some stuff to take care of.”
“A girl?”
“Well, yeah. That’s part of it.”
