My first instinct was to tell her that it was okay and to forgive her, but instead I asked, “What happened that night with my father?”
I’d read the police report. It said that my father was asleep in bed and that Naomi shot him in the head. That was it. The trial was over before it started because she took a plea deal, so there was limited information in the case file.
She took a shallow breath, and I saw that her bottom lip was quivering. I didn’t want to upset her, but I really wanted answers.
“Sam, your dad, was lying in bed. Asleep. And I shot him.”
I knew that. “Why? Why did you shoot him?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does.”
She shifted in her chair, and I could see that she didn’t want to have this conversation. “Because I had to.”
“Why did you have to?” I asked, even though I was fairly sure I knew the answer. “Did he hurt you?”
She nodded. “Not when he was sober, but he got angry when he drank. A month before I shot him, when I was six months pregnant, he came home from the bar in the middle of the night.” She wheezed loudly as she took a labored breath. “I’d made dinner for him that night, but when he didn’t come home after work, I put it in the fridge. He came in at three in the morning and was upset that his dinner was cold and I was asleep in bed. He woke me up by punching and kicking me. He broke two ribs.” She closed her eyes as she took in another shallow breath.
Anger boiled in my blood. “Did you go to the hospital?”
She nodded. “A neighbor, Mrs. Jenson, took me the next day.”
“Did you tell them at the hospital what he did?” I wasn’t sure what the laws were twenty years ago, but now they would have had to report it if she had.
She shook her head. “I told them that I fell down the stairs at my condo.”
“Why didn’t you call the cops?”
A wrinkle appeared above her forehead, and she stared at me as if she didn’t understand what I’d said. As if the suggestion to call the authorities confused her.
“What?” I asked.
“He was a cop.”
A sick feeling sank in my stomach. How did I not know that? I’d never looked him up; that’s why. After going to the prison and being sent away, I hadn’t wanted to know anything about my past. I wanted to put it all behind me and only focus on my future.
She licked her lips before taking another sip of lemonade, then leaned back in her chair. “A month later, the night I shot him, he came home drunk again. This time, he was upset because there was a dish in the sink. He choked me until I lost consciousness. When I woke up on the kitchen floor, I went into the bedroom, and he was lying there asleep. I just looked at him, and I knew that if I didn’t do something, he would end up…” A tear fell down her face.
“Killing you,” I finished for her.
“No.” She shook her head. “I didn’t care if he killed me. I knew that he would end up hurting you. I wasnevergoing to let him touch you.” She adjusted the oxygen tube in her nose. “I ran away from home at fifteen because my father was… He took out his frustrations on me and my mom. She never did anything. She never tried to protect me. She just pretended it wasn’t happening. I promised myself I would never be like her. That when I had a child, I would do anything to protect them.
“When I met Sam, I thought I’d found Prince Charming. He was kind, loving, and attentive. We never fought, but looking back on it, I was a kid, and I just sort of did whatever he wanted. I thought he was taking care of me, but now I know he was controlling.
“We were together for two years before I got pregnant. He asked me to marry him, and I said yes because I loved him and thought he was going to make the best dad. But after we got married, something changed in him. He told me what to wear, who I could talk to, and made me quit my job at the daycare because he thought the dads checked me out.
“Overnight, it was like a switch flipped. I thought maybe it was because I was pregnant and he was just being protective. But then he started grabbing my arm too tightly and pushing me. Before I knew it, he was punching, kicking, and choking me.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I was not going to let that happen to you. I was not going to let him hurt you.”
Feeling helpless and guilty for what she’d been through, I leaned forward and took her hands in mine as tears filled my eyes. “I am so sorry that he hurt you. I’m sorry that no one protected you. I’m sorry that I didn’t know any of—"
“I didn’t want you to know!” She cut me off. “I didn’t want you to think that you wereanythinglike him. And I was ashamed of where I was and of what I’d done.”
“You havenothingto be ashamed about.”
“Oh, there you are, Miss Naomi.” Tina, the day nurse on the weekends, walked out into the backyard. “It’s time for your afternoon pills.”
I stood to help my mom. My hands cradled her elbows as she rose up. Once she was on her feet, I wrapped my arms around her and held her. It was the first time I’d ever hugged her. The first time I’d ever hugged my mom. At first, she froze, and I was scared that I’d hurt her. But then she leaned her head against my chest and wrapped her arms around me. She felt so fragile and tiny in my arms.
