“They don't know the story. Fuck what they think.” I ran a red light I probably shouldn't have and took the turn onto Fifth harder than was strictly legal. “I'm almost there. Just keep walking toward the coffee shop on the corner and stay where there's people.”
“Okay.” She sounded younger now, more rattled, and I hated my mother with a fury that felt like it could burn straight through my ribcage. “Hurry.”
I spotted them half a block down—Poppy walking fast with her backpack clutched to her chest, and Helena trailing behind her like a fucking stalker in a coat that was too nice for someone who claimed to be struggling financially. She was talking loud enough that I could hear her voice carrying down the street, all wounded entreaty and performative hurt.
I parked badly, didn't bother locking the car, and crossed the distance between us in a few long strides that had Poppy's shoulders sagging with relief the second she saw me.
“Soren—” Helena started, but I cut her off before she could get any further.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to see my daughter.” She said it like it was the most reasonable thing in the world, like showing up at Poppy's school and harassing her on the street was just normal parental behavior. “She won't talk to me. She won't even give me five minutes.”
“Because she doesn't want to talk to you.” I moved between them, putting my body physically in the way, and felt Poppy's hand grab the back of my jacket. “You lost the right to demand her time when you walked away.”
“I didn't walk away, the courts took them from me.” Her eyes were already welling up with tears that looked real enough to be convincing if you didn't know better. “I've been trying so hard to get better, to make things right, and all I want is a chance to show them that I've changed.”
“Bullshit.” The word came out flat and hard. “You don't want to show us anything except how well you can perform being sober long enough to get access again. I know this game, Mom. I've watched you play it my whole fucking life.”
“That's not fair.” Her voice went higher, more fragile, and I saw a couple of people across the street slow down to watch.Perfect. She was getting an audience. “I made mistakes, I know that. But I'm their mother. I have a right to?—”
“You don't have any rights.” I stepped closer, keeping my voice low enough that the spectators couldn't hear but letting every ounce of my anger show in my expression. “You gave those up when you chose alcohol and Dad over keeping them safe. You don't get to show up now and pretend you deserve a second chance just because you're scared of dying alone.”
She flinched, and for a second I saw real hurt flash across her face before the performance slid back into place. “I just want to talk to them. Five minutes. That's all I'm asking.”
“And I'm telling you no. Leave Poppy alone. Leave all of them alone. If you want to talk, you go through me, and you make an appointment like a normal fucking person instead of ambushing a seventeen-year-old outside her school.”
“Soren, please?—”
“Go home, Mom.” I was done with this conversation, done with her tears and her manipulation and the way she could make herself sound so reasonable when everything she was doing was designed to hurt. “This isn't over, but it's over for today. Walk away before I call the police and have you charged with harassment.”
She looked between me and Poppy, clearly weighing whether pushing harder would get her anywhere or just make things worse. Finally, she pulled her coat tighter around herself and took a step back, the wounded-mother mask slipping just enough that I could see the calculation underneath.
“Fine. But this isn't finished. They're my children too, and I'm not going to just disappear because you've decided you're the only one who gets to have a relationship with them.”
She walked away before I could respond, heels clicking on the pavement in a rhythm that sounded like a threat. I watchedher until she turned the corner and disappeared, and only then did I let myself turn to Poppy.
She was pale, jaw clenched tight, and trying very hard not to look like she'd just been rattled to her core. I pulled her into a hug, and she came easily, pressing her face into my shoulder with a shaky exhale that said more than words could.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah. No. I don't know.” She pulled back and wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. “That was fucking awful.”
“I know. I'm sorry you had to deal with that alone.”
“I wasn't alone for long. You got here fast.” She managed a weak smile. “Thanks for that. And for the whole 'you don't have any rights' thing. That was pretty badass.”
“She doesn't get to fuck with you just because she gave birth to you.” I grabbed her backpack and slung it over my shoulder because she looked like she needed to not be carrying anything right now. “Come on. I'm driving you home and we're having a family meeting.”
By the timeeveryone made it home, I'd already texted Talia and Micah and set about making coffee because this conversation was going to need caffeine. Talia arrived first, still in her work clothes and looking like she'd left the office mid-crisis to get here.
“What happened?” she asked, dropping her bag by the door.
“Mom showed up at Poppy's school. Followed her down the street trying to force a conversation.”
“Fuck.” Talia's expression went from concerned to furious in about half a second. “Is Poppy okay?”
“Shaken but fine. I got there before it escalated into anything worse.”
