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I don’t know why I’m here. Curiosity, I try to convince myself. Morbid curiosity. I pinch the bridge of my nose, try to release the pounding in my head.
Pushing off the post, I take a step forward, and then another, until I’ve crossed the road and I’m opening the door. My mom sits higher when she sees me, a hint of a smile pulling on her lips. A part of me hates that I’ve given her that tiny amount of joy. But another part of me flashes to all the moments of joy I remember us having, and I think I hate that more.
“Hey,” I murmur the second my ass hits the seat. In a booth, in the corner of the room, I suddenly feel trapped. Anxiety swarms through my bloodline, closing my airways. I shouldn’t have come here, but now it’s too late. And I know that if I didn’t, I’d regret it forever.
“Did you want a drink? Coffee? Hot choco—”
“I hate chocolate.”
“Really?” Her brow lifts. “You used to love it.”
I keep my eyes on hers when I say, “I used to love a lot of things.”
My birth giver shakes her head, her eyes moving to the text written on my arms. She reads it before I can hide what’s there. “Ava. She’s your girlfriend, right?”
“You already know who she is. You’ve met her. And I’d appreciate it if you kept her name out of your mouth.” I don’t want you to tarnish her like you did me, I don’t say.
Her eyes lift, soften. “I went back, you know?”
I lean forward. “What?”
“I went back for you. Once I’d realized what I’d done, I went back…” Tears form in her eyes, and she’s quick to swipe them away. “But you’d already been… found… and there were so many people around you and I couldn’t…”
“You couldn’t deal,” I finish for her. “Just like you couldn’t deal with being a mother, right?” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Was I that bad of a kid?” It was supposed to come out harsh, but my true emotions fly out with my words, taking my insecurities with them.
“Connor, no,” she whispers through a wobbly exhale. “It was never about you.” She reaches across the table, her hand covering mine, and I let her. I fucking let her. “When everyone was gone… I saw your toy cars sitting there. Remember those, sweetheart? You loved them so much, you couldn’t go anywhere without them.”
I claim back my hand, rest it on my lap, and keep my eyes downcast. “I remember.”
“You’d watch those movies for hours, and the soundtracks were always going in my car…”
I don’t have anything to say, so I stay quiet.
“Do you still like cars?”
“Not really.”
She sighs. “It’s all about basketball now, right?”
I nod.
“Or it has been for a while. I think the first time I saw your name pop up you were around twelve.”
I look up at her now, my eyes wide in surprise.
“I’ve been following you for years, watching you grow up from afar.” There’s a wistfulness in her words, and my heart aches in ways I never thought possible. She’s cared about me… but never enough to claim me back.
“Where have you been? And what do you want from me now?” I pause a breath, my voice quiet when I add, “We don’t have any money—Dad and me—and if you think you can somehow get some because I’m heading to the league, then… I don’t even know what to say to you.”
“I don’t want your money,” she’s quick to reply. “And your dad—shit, Connor, no one can know I’m here. If anyone finds out that I exist, I could…”
“I know what could happen to you.” And I hold all the cards.
“I mean it, Connor. Not your dad, not your girlfriend. No one.”
“Why should I give you grace? Did you somehow forget what you did to me?”
“No!” she almost shouts. “I’ve been hiding out in a cabin in the woods, never leaving my house, living every day with the pain of knowing what I did to you!” She ends on a sob, one so harsh and so loud it has people’s heads turning. She cowers, grabs a napkin from the dispenser to wipe at her tears. Barely a whisper, she adds, “I’m protecting you and everyone you love when I tell you that they can’t know. I’m still a… a fugitive.” She says the word as if it’s acid on her tongue. “And having them know means they could get in a lot of trouble if…” she trails off, and I know where she’s going, what she means. I’ve watched enough true crime documentaries to understand the consequences, but it still doesn’t answer my question of what she wants.
