Page 56 of The Call She Made That He Never Answered
I turned to Maya. Maya nodded, looking guilty.
"I asked her to come, Ella." Maya grabbed my hand, pleading. "You've been so sick lately. I didn't want you doing this alone."
A sick feeling twisted in my gut.
I knew Maya meant well. But I felt nothing for this woman who gave birth to me. My memories before age eight were hazy, but I'd never forget her leaving us in that downpour, those taillights disappearing into the rain. Mother remarried some stranger. Legally, she was still our guardian, but she never took care of us. Never paid a cent of child support.
If Maya hadn't taken on the burden of raising me, child protective services would've taken me. I'd have ended up God knows where.
We'd barely had contact all these years. Until I married Lucas. Once the news hit the papers, she showed up at the wedding. In front of thousands of guests, I couldn't throw her out. But I didn't give her any of the dignity a mother of the bride deserved. I didn't let her walk me down the aisle. Didn't seat her at the family table.
The whole wedding, she was just another guest. But afterward, in front of everyone, she grabbed my hand and sobbed, apologizing for her absence. She said a woman without means has to marry to survive, that she'd had it rough, that her conscience had been eating at her. She said if we ever needed anything, we could call.
When Mother gave that speech, Maya was standing right there. I never thought she'd actually take it to heart.
I had no feelings for this woman except distance. But she was Maya's mother too. Seeing the hope in my sister's eyes, I had no right to deny her that need for maternal love.
That night, Mother moved into my studio apartment with her battered suitcase. And I had to admit—she pulled her weight.
She cleaned the apartment spotless. She was patient and attentive with Maya at the hospital. With her help, my morning sickness miraculously eased. I even had time to study for my nursing certification exam.
Maybe I shouldn't judge people by their past. Maybe middle age brings clarity, a desire to make amends.
Until that evening, when my phone lit up like a slot machine. One notification after another, rattling my nerves.
I grabbed my phone. The screen was flooded with alerts. I had to scroll down. All purchase confirmations.
One thought: Did I get hacked?
Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I checked the purchase locations. A major department store in Rochester. And today was the day Mother said she'd buy Maya some supplements.
My stomach felt like someone had punched it.
No. No, no, no.
Please don't let this be what I think it is.
I threw on my coat and ran to the hospital.
When I burst into the room, breathless, she was sitting on the bed chatting with the family in the next bay, laughing.
"Mom."
She looked up, expression innocent. "What's wrong, baby?"
Baby.
This woman who vanished when I was eight, who ignored us for fourteen years, called me baby.
I shoved my phone in her face. My hand was shaking. "What is this?"
She glanced at it and shrugged.
"Oh, that." Her tone was casual, like she was discussing the weather. "I picked up some essentials Maya needs. The store's delivering everything soon."
"Essentials?" I repeated, my voice starting to crack. "Maya needs a five-hundred-dollar outfit from Macy's?"
"I need it," she corrected, a note of irritation creeping in. "I can't take care of her looking like a bum, can I?"
