I wasn’t sure whether I felt that abortionwasmurder; I only said it to be crude.
The woman I was ashamed to call my mother pushed to her feet and walked around the coffee table, planting herself on the spare seat next to me. “No, Phoenix. It wouldn’t make any difference, as he wouldn’t accept you as his. You’d only cause more pain—forallof us,especiallyfor your brother and me.” Her expression was of the begging variety, and I could see that her hands were shaking. Who was my old man to give herthatreaction?
She touched my arm, but I pulled away. “Pulling out the sympathy card isn’t going to work, I’m afraid.”
“What are you going to do?” she rasped unhappily.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Letting her hands fall onto her jean-clad legs, my mother raised her chin and asked in a desperate voice. “Please, Phoenix. Just let me finish my explanation.”
I moved slightly to put some distance between our bodies. Her scent reminded me of better times, long before this woman left me to wander the house in my own shit. “OK then. You were saying you abandoned me because you thought I was better off withstrangers. On what planet doesthatmake sense?”
Swallowing, she nodded, her eyes assessing my stance. “But by the time I found you, they weren’t strangers. They were your parents. I saw you together, how good they were with you. From the report I was allowed to see, they had you lined up for all the best schools. I couldn’t bring myself to ruin that. It had been almosta year, and you were so settled. You looked like the picture-perfect family. I was working in a diner for God’s sake, on a low salary. I could only just feed myself.”
I wanted to believe her. Either way, the woman had still shit on me from a massive height. She must have known that I didn’t get to stay with the Fox family (after their own little bundle of joy was born). I was cast back out into the system, and yet shestillleft me there.
Unless she didn’t know?
I considered that thought and wasn’t sure how I felt about that. If she didn’t know, I couldn’t continue to blame her, or could I? “But it didn’t stay that way, did it?” I added and waited for her response.
She did know I was put back into care. I was right, and I savored the sight of guilt creeping into her cheeks. “I know, and I’m sorry. Sorry, you were forced back into the foster system.” She just saved herself by adding. “But I didn’t find out that you were no longer with Mr. and Mrs. Fox untilyearslater. If I had known, I would have come back for you then.” A likely story. “After that, you had been transferred around for a while, and I couldn’t find you. By the time I had, you were once again settled, or so I had been told.”
Settled. Yeah, with the Jacksons?
“So, you didn’t keep an eye on me regularly. Check your son was, OK?”
She stiffened, and I could now see the pain in her face. It was raw and must have mirrored my own, and I knew I needed to get out of there. “No, it was too hard,” she croaked.
“So why did you move back to the area now? I assume it wasn’t to find me?”
“I won’t lie to you, Phoenix. No, it wasn’t. My husband's company is the only reason we moved back this way. It’s a work thing.”
Fuck, why did that hurt so much? I only just managed to deny that foolish urge to smash something: throw one of her vases across the room.
In one fluid motion, I stood from my position and glared down my nose at her. “I think we’re done here.”
Mrs.Leibrock followed me up. I could hear her behind me as I made my way around the sofas. “Phoenix, please. Don’t leave like this. Let’s talk about it.”
“Talk about what? You clearly don’t want me here.”
“I can prove I tried to find you.”
Turning on her, she backed up a step, raising her hands as if I would hit her or some shit like that. “You don’t need to prove shit to me. Your lame ass story doesn’t make up for anything. You have no idea what it was like for me. You should have come back and fought for me, especially when I was put back into the system.”
“I couldn’t find you.”
“You didn’t even try.”
“It was too late, Phoenix.”
“Bullshit.”
My mother placed a hand on my arm again. The way I glared at her fingers caused her to let go. “Please, wait. Stay a while.”
“Why? You want to get to know me?”
I took a step forward, and she stepped back. It wasn’t supposed to be threatening, but I couldn’t help it; my body and mind were in two different queues of confusion. Her expression told me everything I needed to know. The woman didn’t want to know me. She just wanted to cleanse her guilt for leaving me. Get my understanding. Well, screw that.
