Page 53 of Punked By the Playmaker
Trying like hell not to crumple into a heap on the floor, where I would undoubtedly curl into the fetal position and bawl my eyes out, I waved her off with a choked “Leave us.” Then I tacked on “Please.”
“Of course.”
Stepping forward, I motioned to the open chair beside the tea table. “May I?”
Mom dipped her chin. “I suppose.” When I settled opposite her, she asked, “Do you know my Arizona and Austin?”
I wanted to scream and shout and tell her I was right here, but I knew how that would end—with her in a fit of hysterics, and the trauma of watching her be forcefully sedated.
Witnessing that once had been enough to give me nightmares for weeks, so instead, I replied, “Yes, they love and miss you very much.” I relayed the message through someone whom she believed to be a third party.
Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a breath as if struck by a sudden realization. “Oh! I called Austin my grandson, didn’t I? When they get here, please don’t make mention of it. We are waiting until Arizona gets back on her feet before she can take him back. My girl is trying so hard. She just lost her way for a little bit.”
My heart shattered into a thousand pieces, the shards scattering across the floor. I wished more than anything she could see the woman I’d become, see how I’d turned my life around after crawling out of a hole that most never managed to escape.
When I didn’t say anything, Mom continued speaking. “I’ll never forget the night I got a call, years after she ran away, that Arizona had been admitted to the hospital in a bad way, and there was a sick little baby boy who needed a home.”
The most devastating part was that she would forget it. If not today or tomorrow, someday soon. Just like she’d forgotten that we agreed we would never tell Austin that I was his birth mother, ensuring he never learned the details surrounding his conception or about his monster of a sperm donor.
“By the time I got there, she was climbing the walls, despite having just woken up from surgery, because they wouldn’t give her anything stronger than ibuprofen.” She shook her head, a sound of disgust coming from the back of her throat. “Damn doctors were the reason she ended up like that in the first place. Anyway, she was so consumed with getting her next fix that she barely knew I was there, let alone that she’d had a baby and he was going through the same withdrawal.”
My vision blurred, and I couldn’t stop the tears that fell freely.
I couldn’t remember much from when Austin was born, but with crystal clarity, I could recall what it felt like when it had been too long since my last high, and there was no doubt in my mind that Mom’s firsthand account was spot on—that I’d cared more about getting my hands on drugs than about the baby whom I’d brought into the world addicted to them.
“Oh, honey.” Mom patted my hand. “She wasn’t herself there for a while, but I promise she’s doing so much better now. You’ll see when she gets here. Went to rehab when Austin was a toddler and has been sober for almost four years now.”
“Ten,” I corrected automatically.
“What was that?”
Realizing my mistake, I shook my head muttering, “Nothing.”
She didn’t press for more, sitting back in her chair. “Enough about me. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
Sniffling, I wiped at my eyes. “Oh, um. I just got married.” Lifting my left hand, I showcased the glittering diamond that rested there.
“Well, isn’t that wonderful,” Mom gushed, radiating genuine happiness. “Those early days are magic. You’ll cherish them forever.”
If only she knew that the whole thing was a farce.
“Is he a good man, your husband?” she inquired.
My lips twisted to the side. “At the beginning, I wasn’t so sure, but now I think that maybe he is. He has a daughter, and he’s surprisingly good with her.”
Her smile grew. “Looks like you’ve got yourself an instant little family there.”
“Yeah. We kinda do.”
“Well”—she clasped her hands together, bringing them to her chest—“I wish you all the happiness in the world.”
Dammit, I’d barely just stopped crying, and here she was about to set me off again.
I blinked rapidly, my voice coming out hoarse. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”
She checked the clock on the wall. “My family should be here soon.”
The dismissal was clear, and I rose on shaky legs, offering a weak goodbye.
