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“Can you come over?”
“Of course, I'll be there in a few.”
We say our I love yous and our goodbyes and I get off the phone before pulling out of the parking spot I'd been sitting in and head toward the house.
When I finally park and make my way toward the front door, I see a sign in the yard that says foreclosed.
My heart sinks. How much fear must she have felt seeing them put that sign up? How much terror did she live in every single day that today would be the day she got thrown out? I can't help but hate my dad even more for this. What an awful thing to do to the woman that gave you the best years of her life. She wasn't a bad wife. He was a bad husband and a bad person.
She gave him everything. She broke herself to make him happy. All for what? For him to walk away and leave her with nothing. Men like my dad are the reason why I don't want to get married. I don't want to have to make heartbreaking decisions like this to protect my children.
I open the front door and walk inside.
There isn't a thing out of place in the room and I find my mom, sitting on the couch, a bottle of whiskey in one hand. I'm absolutely stunned as she lifts the bottle to her lips and tilts it back. I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen my mother drink, and not one of them has she ever drank straight from the bottle.
She looks more pale and thin than the last time I saw her, but the look in her eyes is what kills me. She looks old and lost and sad. Like she's given up.
But who can blame her? She must feel like she's lost everything, and she has. Well, everything except me, that is.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers as I walk over and sit beside her.
I put my arms around her, wishing that I could hug away all of the pain.
I know I can't fix the agony of my father leaving, but I can absolutely take care of her. It doesn't matter that he didn't leave her any money. It doesn't matter that he caused her to lose the house. None of that matters.
I'm going to make sure that my mom is happy, safe, and healthy.
Chapter Twenty-One
Michael
I take a deep breath and dial Moira’s number.
I have this overwhelming need to talk to her and explain everything. Not that I'm sure what else there is to explain. Maybe I could tell her why I didn't say anything about Grace? I mean, Cynthia had been out of my life for so long, and I trusted her when she said that the baby wasn't mine. Why would I assume that was a lie?
Of course, I'm kicking myself in the ass now for not asking more questions or demanding answers or a paternity test back then. I've always known that Cynthia is a liar, but who lies about things like that?
It didn't seem like a secret because it wasn't. There was nothing to tell. And I can't help but think that maybe if I can explain that, it'll make sense to Moira, and she'll reconsider walking out of my life forever.
Moira answers my call but sounds distracted and oddly distant. “Hey, Michael, what's up?”
I can't help but wonder if she's hanging out with her friends, doing something fun, and trying to keep her mind off of me. That seems like a smart move on her part.
“I was hoping we could talk. Maybe we can meet somewhere?” I can hear the hopefulness in my voice, but I’m not sure she’s listening, or if that matters.
She sighs. “I don't know, Michael. I'm kind of busy right now.” The words don't sound rude. She legitimately sounds like she's trying to solve a problem, and I wonder if she needs some help.
“Is there anything I can help with?” What's the harm in offering? The worst thing she could say is no.
She sighs before speaking. “I'm not sure. My mom's in trouble.”
I feel a very real pang of fear. After we've taken her mother to the hospital, I fear the worst. “Is she safe? Is she okay?”
“Yes and no. It's nothing health related.”
My heart sinks. I really liked her mother when I met her. The thought of her struggling with something right now bothers me, and I want to do everything in my power to help. “What can I do? Just say the word.” It dawns on me that Moira is just as wealthy as I am, so what could she possibly be struggling with? What kind of trouble could Kathy possibly be in? “And I'm here if you want to talk about what happened.”
I have to remind her that I’m here for her too, not just Kathy.
