My whole life I’ve lived a lie and I didn’t even know it. From growing up the only child of a single mother near Savannah, to moving to the West Coast and making a living trying to provide for me and Momma, and for what? So I could stay in the little bubble she wanted me to live in and never venture out for fear I’d find out the truth?
That I am more than she raised me to believe I am. That I belong to something greater, to someone greater, than she ever let me believe in.
I worked like hell to provide for us, but she was already being taken care of by my father, a man who she kept hidden. A man she lied about.
She had cash. Lots of it. What she did with it, I’ll never know. The thought scares me a little as fear, the unspoken truth I’ve occasionally thought of but tried to avoid for years, starts to settle in my mind.
I wipe angry tears from my eyes. Never once have I ever questioned Momma. Never once did I ever believe she would double cross me. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think she was hiding something this big from me.
Clutching my sister’s hand tightly, I stare at her and watch as her chest rises and falls.
This ends now.
With a newfound hatred for all that is wrong in the world, I jump to my feet. Throwing back my shoulders, I stand tall and know what I have to do. It is now or never, before I lose the guts to do it. With fierce determination in my steps, I stride across the room toward the exit. Looking back briefly, I smile knowing that my road led me here for a reason and I alone hold the power to make it right.
Storming out of the room, I run into Hunter in the hallway. I hear him call my name but I am too full of rage to listen. Right now I need answers, and there is only one person who can give them to me. He’s quick to follow. As I punch the button for the elevator he swings me around to meet his stare, “Where are you going?” He asks, concern lacing his tone. “You’re scaring me, Angel.”
I shake my head as I wait for the elevator to open. Looking up into his eyes, I watch as they fill with worry, then a panicked hesitance.
“I have to talk to my mother. I have to get answers. This all doesn’t make any amount of sense and I need to know…”
I trail off as his eyes tentatively search mine.
The elevator dings. Before I can say another word, he steps forward and grabs a hold of my shoulders.
“Then I am going with you.”
“No,” I say quickly. “Please no, Hunter. I need to do this myself.”
“But…”
I shake my head. “I know you don’t understand. For goodness sake, I don’t even understand. But that is why I need to do this alone. I need to face her, by myself.”
I walk into the elevator and push the button for the bottom floor.
“Angel..” he whispers, as the door begins to close. Brutally, he pushes it back open. “I need to talk to you first. I need to…”
I shake my head and he stops talking.
“I will meet you. At your place. I promise, Hunter. Just please, let me go.”
He stares skeptically at me before reluctantly taking a step back. As the doors close, the last thing I see is his eyes. Pleading. Worried. Anxious. But I can’t walk forward in life with him unless I have answers, and right now, the only thing holding me back is the one person I never expected. My mother.
* * *
Coming up the front steps of our little trailer, I slowly move towards the front door, as if I am afraid of what lies behind it. Which is crazy, because I know Momma more than I know anyone, or at least I thought I did.
I pause before opening the door. Taking a deep breath, I try and build myself up. Try and find my new strength and confidence to follow through with what I need to do. With my hand on the doorknob, I raise my head to the sky and say a silent prayer, hopeful that God will see me through this.
If Momma was so good at keeping this hidden, what else do I not know about, and just how far do her secrets lie?
Timidly, I pull open the door and step across the threshold. My eyes take a moment, adjusting to the darkness inside. When they do, I see Momma in her chair. Her arm is thrown off to the side and there is a look of death about her.
Quickly, I rush to her side. “Momma!” I shout, as she slowly rolls her head upright and tries to open her eyes.
“Roshie,” her speech is slurred. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow?”
She tries to sit up straight in her chair but fails. Has to be from the nap she was just taking, right? Still, something about this whole situation strikes me as odd. Pushing it away, I help her up and grab a pillow from a nearby couch. Propping it behind her back, her head bobs a few times before she meets my stare. Her eyes roll back in her head, and for a horrifying second, I could swear she’s not breathing.
