“Brinley?”
It’s been so long since I’ve heard her voice that tears fill my eyes.
“Hi, Mom.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, almost like she couldn’t believe I’d actually call.
“I’ve been so worried about you,” she says.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve called sooner. I’m okay, though.”
There’s another pause.
“I read the article,” she adds carefully.
“Yeah,” I say. “I figured you probably did.”
We sit in silence, and I almost wonder if calling right now was a good idea.
“There’s something I need to tell you, and I have questions,” I say finally.
“Okay.”
“I went to talk to him a few weeks ago. He said he gave you money, that he paid you to basically make this all disappear.”
She doesn’t answer right away.
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” she says quietly. “This is never how I envisioned this going, Brinley. I just, I’m so sorry.”
I tug at the blanket beneath my fingers.
“I don’t understand,” I continue, wanting to get this out. “If he gave you money, why did we struggle so much growing up?”
Her breath comes through the phone. Her answer comes out slower this time.
“Because I never touched it.”
I blink.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I never spent it,” she says. “Not a single penny.”
I sit up a little straighter.
“You never spent it? What did you do with it then?”
“I put it in an account. For you.”
The words cause my mouth to drop open.
“Mom…”
“Every penny he ever gave me. It all went straight to that account. I don’t even know how much is in there now, if I’m being honest.”
I stare down at the comforter, tracing a seam with my finger.
“I didn’t want to build our life on his money,” she admits. “But I also didn’t want to throw it back in his face and tell him to fuck off, although there were times when I wanted to tell him where to go and how to get there.”
