“But I still think that someone will come along and change your mind.”
“That’s so old fashioned!”
Dawn chuckled. “Darling, I was born in the sixties. I grew up in the era of feminism and free love. You think that your ideasare new? They’re not. But in all that chaos, I never saw any real happiness. Not like the life I built with your grandpa.”
“Great, so I’m doomed to misery?”
“I never said that.”
“I broke the family curse, didn’t I?”
“What curse?”
“I didn’t get knocked up as a teen.”
“Now really–”
“If Claire makes it through her teens without becoming an unwed mother, then you’ll know we really beat it.”
“Babies are a blessing,” Dawn ground out.
“Careful what you say in front of the fourteen-year old. You’ll give her ideas.”
“That’s it. I just can’t with you today.” Dawn put her hands up and walked out of the kitchen. “Grab your bag, Claire. I’ll drive you to school.”
Claire slung her backpack over one shoulder and bolted.
Anne just stood there, staring at her eldest. She had always assumed that her daughter’s bad attitude was reserved entirely for her. Zoe kept to herself so much that Anne hadn’t even seen her interact with anyone else for more than a minute or two at a time.
Now she wondered if this was how she was with everybody, just lashing out all the time. She wanted to ask her mother… but she didn’t suppose that Dawn would ever admit to it.
She had been there for Zoe when Anne wasn’t… but at the same time, Anne knew better than anyone how divided Dawn’s attentions always were, how present and available she was really capable of being with foster kids flowing through the house like a stream of sardines.
Then again, it always came back to Anne.
She had known what her mother was like, what that house was like… and she had left Zoe there anyway. Just another unwanted child.
It was supposed to be a temporary measure. Dawn was good with babies – great with them. Anne wanted to go get an education, build a life for herself, and then send for her daughter.
But she hadn’t fully understood how formative those early years were. She had been less present in Zoe’s life than an auntie. She hadn’t built a bond or earned her trust. And so when she tried to convince her daughter to come and live with her in California, Zoe sobbed and screamed, and Anne had backed off.
Maybe she should have fought harder.
She didn’t know anymore.
At the time, leaving Zoe in the home that she loved – surrounded by people who loved her – had seemed like the kindest thing to do.
It was all such a jumbled mess now. Thinking back on Zoe’s childhood made her sick with guilt and grief. It always had, and it was ten times worse now that she knew the full severity of her daughter’s trauma.
They needed to move forward. But she had no idea how.
“Mom?” Pete shouted from the top of the stairs. “Are the guests gone?”
Anne jumped, and suddenly she realized that there were tears on her cheeks. She dried her face and called up, “All clear!”
He came thundering down the stairs. “I’m starving!”
“You can always eat when they do,” she chided him gently.
