“Please, Eliza. Don’t embarrass yourself.” The dismissive pitch of her voice flips a switch in me.
“What?” I can’t believe my ears. “Why should I be the one embarrassed? I’m not the one who cheated.”
“Maybe he wouldn’t have if you were what my son needs,” she spits through her teeth.
She grabs a pack of rice and throws it in the cart, turning her back on me and stomping toward the checkout, leaving me stunned.
The self-doubt begins to creep back in.I wasn’t good enough.A recurring tune following me since I was old enough to understand that my parents abandoned me. It’s a deep-seated fear I haven’t shared with anyone.
It’s shameful.
It’s a burden.
Going back to my ass of a roommate is the last thing I want. I know exactly who’s expecting a long overdue visit and so I give her a call.
“I’m at the store. Can I come over?”
“Oh, sweetheart. I’ve been so worried.” Martha’s motherly voice is a balm traveling through my system. “The pecan pie is fresh out of the oven. It’ll cool by the time you get here.”
I was left unsupervised most of my childhood and craved the feeling of being taken care of and having someone to care enough to make decisions and steer me in the right direction.
In my darkest moments, I used to pick myself apart in the mirror wondering how my parents looked. Did my father have the same brown eyes? Do I have my mother’s strawberry blonde hair? Not knowing hurts as bad as not having them by my side to lean on.
Gram Miller is gone and the only people I can talk to now are Martha and Sam, my foster parents’ neighbors. I loved to help them with their home and garden when I lived next door.
“I’m so happy you’re here!” Martha’s embrace is so strong it has the power to glue me backtogether.
“Sorry it took so long to drop by. I’m a mess.”
“Hush, child. You’re in a bit of a mess, but you— look at me.” She gently grabs my chin and tilts it up. “You will be alright. It will pass.”
A feeble smile is all I can give her.
“Now, go rest and I’ll bring you something to eat.”
The interior of their home, with its flowery wallpaper, reminds me of the two years I got to spend at the Miller’s house. Their knickknacks collected over a lifetime are scattered around the solid wood furniture and pictures of Martha and Sam hang in every room.
My favorite piece is the vintage stove where I learned how to cook. Martha is a great teacher and the closest connection to the best foster parents I ever had.
Gramps’ children sold the house after he died. The five siblings lived with their families, scattered between the East and West Coasts, and none of them planned to return. I got the cabin from their parents and the sale of their house happened so fast. I couldn’t afford to buy the first place that was a real home, even if I wanted to.
A nice young family with twins lives there now. Their giggles fill the street whenever I visit Martha and Sam. Each time my heart twists. With joy for those kids who have loving parents and will grow up in a lovely home. And with a sense of longing bleeding into my bones for the things I missed out on. My parents didn’t love me enough to give me that kind of life. Instead of being cradled in my mother’s love, I was raised by strangers with no fondness in their hearts for an urchin.
Melting on Martha’s worn-out couch after she stuffed me with food takes the edge off my anxiety.
“I was hoping you’d leave him.”
“You know it’s hard for me to let people go,” I say, leaning back on the soft couch. “He showed me I wasn’t enough, but I stayed. I thought it was the best I could do.” I’m mourning the shattered dream of a family more than the relationship with Jared.
Is it normal? Shouldn’t I miss him?
Martha beams at me. “That’s why I’m so proud of you now.”
“I did it because I saw him with my own eyes. I’m relieved the decision was taken for me. Isn’t that pathetic?”
“You packed your bags and left. Some people never do, even in the face of undeniable proof that the other person is not good for them.”
“I feel stupid for not seeing it sooner,” I admit in a whisper. “I never won. No matter how hard I tried.”
