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“Why?” Pat asks. “You’re gonna kill an old lady?”
“With a fucking smile on my face.” I smirk coldly.
My mother sighs. “No, she passed away a long time ago.”
“Hope it hurt.”
She nods bitterly. “It did.”
That brings some level of satisfaction.
“I lay in that hospital, holding you tightly as I wailed for her not to do this. To help me. To help us. But she told me I had two options: keep one or lose two. She left me for a bit to use the phone. While she was gone, a kind nurse who heard everything took that picture of us. The one from my wallet. I begged for her help, but she couldn’t cross my family or Gian’s.”
My throat locks with a silent growl, wondering how the hell people could decide the fate of a single person just like that.
“When my mother returned, she told me to say goodbye. I held on to you so tight,” she snivels. “I couldn’t let you go! I begged and pleaded, but she took you right out of my arms as I fought her, clawed at her arm. But she pushed me off and ran out of the room and I never saw you again.”
With both hands, she clasps my father’s shirt and cries.
“I…I,” she wails. “I didn’t even get to name you!”
“Did that asshole ever find out Raph wasn’t his?”
She nods as her attention returns to me. “The bastard did a DNA test soon after he was born, and that’s when he found out. Once he did, he lived to make that boy suffer. He hated him. Beat him constantly. Made him feel worthless. Raph had no idea why his own father hated him so much.” Her shoulders slump. “I wanted to tell them all the truth, but Gian threatened that if I told anyone I had a baby by another man, he’d kill Raph and me. I believed him.”
With a deep sigh, she comes to a stand, letting go of Patrick’s hand.
Watching her, I’m unsure of what she’s doing until she comes nearer. Skittishly, her hand extends toward my face, and tentatively, as though in slow motion, she places her palm against my cheek.
My skin tingles, starved for the love of a mother I never had. I should push her away, should tell her to stop, but I can’t seem to want to. Her touch fills the void of that once-broken little boy who’d cry for his mother and wonder why she never came.
“I know I could’ve done more.” Her mouth thins. “I could’ve looked for you. I could’ve checked to make sure you had a good life, and I didn’t. I deserve every bit of your hate. I could lie and say it was because I was afraid of Gian, but truthfully, my boy, I was afraid of this very thing. That I destroyed your life. That you weren’t better off.”
Fresh tears pummel into her weary gaze.
“What those nuns did to you, I wish I could take your place. My—” She wails. “My sweet boy.” Her fingers stroke my stubble. “Can I… Can I just hug you once? Please?”
My chest cinches so tightly, I can barely fucking breathe.
“Please, Adriel. I… I beg you.”
Before I can change my mind, I nod, rising to myfeet, and she throws her arms around my middle and weeps against my chest.
Behind her, my father’s own emotions grow and a smile full of his own turmoil flicks across his face.
Somehow, my arms make it around her, and that only makes her cry harder.
We remain this way for minutes that pass us slowly. Yet I don’t know how to process any of this. My need to keep her and this whole family at a distance has been my priority. The rage I once felt for them was my only purpose in life. But now, I don’t know what I want.
Can I let it all go? Is there a path for redemption?
“Where does this leave us?” Her words echo with her anguish.
“I don’t know, but I won’t try to kill you anymore, so you’re welcome.”
She laughs, Patrick joining her.
“That’s a start,” he adds.
