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“That’s not what happened. Just shut up and listen for a minute. You had to stay in the hospital for a few more weeks because you were born a few weeks early and were withdrawing from the drugs in your system. I really didn’t know what I was doing at the time. A DNA test confirmed you were my son, but I didn’t want to be a father.”
I’m a little taken aback by that addition. My father has many flaws, but he has never given me the impression that he didn’t want me, or my sisters.
“Why?”
“I didn’t know if I could. I didn’t have the greatest example to work with, and my life was dangerous. A child didn’t quite fit into that.”
“So, what changed?”
“Tia took you from the hospital a few days before you were supposed to be released. At first, I was relieved. I thought it would be better if you grew up with her and away from me, but a few days later, Tia sent me a message…” My father trails off. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Tell me,” I demand.
“She told me to send her ten thousand dollars if I ever wanted to see you again.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not, Quinton. She tried to use you to get money out of me.”
“Maybe she simply wanted a new start?
“I thought about that as well. I was actually okay giving her money. Matter of fact, I thought about sending her money every month, making sure you were taking care of, but when I met her to talk to her, she was clearly high, and you weren’t with her.”
“Where was I?”
“I told her I would give her another ten grand if she brought me to you. She promised you were being taken care of, but I insisted. Tia finally brought me to a motel she was staying at. I heard you crying from across the parking lot, and when we got to the room, I knew I could never leave you with her again. She left you alone in that room, lying on the filthy stained carpet. You were only wearing a soiled diaper; your whole back was bright red with an angry rash. You cried like you were in pain.”
“Maybe she just didn’t know how to take care of a baby.” I try to make excuses for a mother I never knew because none of what he is telling me matches the image I had made up in my mind.
“She didn’t know how to take care of anyone, including herself. When I picked you up and walked out of there, all she was worried about was the money. She yelled at me to give her the money I had promised her, but not once did she ask me to leave you with her.”
Slowly, his words sink in, and the picture I had made up becomes muddier. Could it really have been that bad? Or is he lying so I will forgive him easier?
“Like you said, she had issues. You could have helped her instead of killing her. She was still my mother.”
“At that time, my father was still alive and actively trying to kill me. Damon and I hadn’t talked in a long time. I was alone and bitter. I had no one, and then you came along. This little helpless human who was a part of me, who needed not only to be protected but also something I wasn’t sure I could ever give again… love.”
“That still doesn’t explain why Tia is dead.”
“I took you home and had the doctor come and look at you. You were in bad shape, Q. Malnourished, dehydrated, and the rash was so bad it got infected. You almost died, and while you were fighting for your life because of her neglect, Tia kept trying to reach me, sending me threatening messages. But it was always about the money; not once did she ask how you were or if she could see you. I ignored her until I couldn’t any longer. She somehow got onto the property and into the house… that’s when I killed her.”
For a moment, silence blankets the room as I process everything he just told me. I don’t know what to feel. Anger, sadness, and guilt? Logically, I know none of this is my fault, but if I was never born, she might have still been alive.
“Don’t grieve for her, Q. She doesn’t deserve it. She was never your mom—Ella is. Ella loved you like a mother should from the first time she held you. I saw it in her eyes then, the fierce determination to protect you at all costs. Ella never looked at you any other way. She always knew you were supposed to be her son.”
“This has nothing to do with mom, I know she loves me, and I don’t love her any differently now that I know she didn’t give birth to me. I’m angry because you lied to me, you hid this from me, even went out of your way to make it disappear. I don’t know if I can trust you again, and I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for it.”
I push myself up to stand. My limbs feel heavier than before, as if all this new knowledge is wearing me down physically. I imagined punching my father, fighting him, maybe even winning because I was so angry. Now, I simply feel drained and beyond exhausted.
“I hope you can,” my dad says quietly as I leave the room.
I walk back to my room in a daze and flop onto my bed. Closing my eyes, I try to make sense of everything I learned, but nothing fits into what I knew before. It’s as if my whole life needs to be rewritten.
The problem is, I don’t know what the new storyline will look like.
