My phone rings. It’s an unknown number. I almost don’t answer. Then I see the suggested caller: California Department of Corrections.
My heart stops.
I answer. “Hello?”
An automated voice: “You have a collect call from an inmate at California Institution for Women. To accept charges, press one.”
I press one. My hand is shaking so hard I almost drop the phone.
“This call is being recorded and monitored. You have fifteen minutes.”
“Lily?”
My mom’s voice.
I haven’t heard it in six years.
The tears start immediately. I can’t stop them.
“Mom.”
“Lily… are you crying?”
“I’m sorry.” The words choke out. The two words that I’ve been dying to tell her all this time. “I’m so sorry.”
“Lily, no. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I put you in prison. I lied. I let him—”
“I know, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay…”
“It’s been six years, mom.”
“I’m in here because of Damien. Not you.”
I’m sobbing now, sitting in the driveway crying so hard I can barely breathe.
“Are you safe?” she asks. “Please tell me you’re safe.”
“I’m safe. I finally got guardianship over Zinnia. I just got home from the lawyer’s office.”
“Zinnia’s living with you?” Her voice breaks. “How?”
“CPS. Emergency placement. The hearing’s next week.”
“Oh, thank God, Lily. That’s—” She’s crying now too. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I don’t deserve that.”
“Yes, you do. You got your sister back. You got away from him. You’re safe. That’s everything I wanted.”
“Marcus said the appeal is moving forward. That you might get out soon.”
“I know. He told me. I can’t believe it’s really happening.”
“It should have happened six years ago.”
“But it’s happening now. Let’s not focus on the past.”
