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‘I’m telling you. You have to go to the nail salon on First, they do the best job with—’ Kayla sees me, her smile fading. She says something into the phone and hangs up. ‘What are you doing here?’
Annoyed that she even has to ask, I stand up. ‘I'm here to—’
‘Never mind.’ She looks left then right. ‘Let’s go inside.’
She hustles to use her key to open the security door and then speed-walks a few feet down to the first-floor apartment.
She ducks her head into what appears to be one of two bedrooms and breathes a sigh of relief. ‘Angela’s gone.’ She turns, dropping her purse on the four-seat kitchen table. ‘My roommate.’ She shrugs off her jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair. ‘But it’s her day off so you need to be gone before she gets back.’ She stands back, crosses her arms over her chest. ‘You can’t stay.’
I stare at the perfectly applied make-up, the copper highlights in her hair, the fresh flush of health on her cheeks. I’ve imagined her gaunt and dirty. Helpless and forlorn. But never this. ‘Are you… Are you serious right now?’
‘Hey, I signed the papers your boss wanted me to.’ She holds up her hands, freshly manicured. ‘I thought that was that. I thought we could all move on.’
‘Move on?’ I almost choke on the words. ‘You want to move on from abandoning your daughter without an explanation?’
Her eyes cut to the side but her mutinous expression remains unchanged.
‘Do you know how worried I’ve been?’ Shock is wearing off, giving way for the emotions I’ve suppressed these two weeks. ‘The police mentioned your ex and drugs and then there was the alcohol that the doctor smelled on Mary at the hospital.’
‘I never did drugs.’ She recrosses her arms. ‘And I told Jack to keep it out of the house. But I didn’t know that he was using our rent money to buy them.’ She juts her hip. ‘And the alcohol was just rubbing alcohol the shelter gave me for Mary’s cut.’ She waves that misunderstanding away, like it’s the shelter’s fault for the misunderstanding.
Having not been invited to sit down, I settle for leaning back against the kitchen counter, needing a moment to process this diatribe of unapologetic excuses. I pinch the bridge of my nose, but the gesture makes me think of Thomas, so I drop my hand.
‘And then I was laid off all because I missed a few shifts.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘So I had to use the money you sent for Mary’s school for rent but it—’
‘Stop. Just stop.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Ask me for help?’
Kayla pops her other hip. ‘You would’ve loved that, huh?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Martyr Alice, coming to save the day.’ Kayla’s hands drop to her sides, her fists clenching. ‘Do you know how annoying it is to be around you all the time?’
I press my hand to my chest, dropping my chin. ‘Me?’
She thrusts a perfectly polished nail at me. ‘You were the one that told me when I was pregnant that being a mother would be great. That having a family was the best thing. And I believed you.’ She drops her arm as if suddenly tired. ‘But I was never meant to be a mother. At least not so young.’ Her eyes cut away. ‘I never should’ve had Mary.’
I brace my hands on the counter behind me. ‘Kayla...’
‘It’s true, okay?’ She paces to the side. ‘And the fact that I can say it is proof I did the right thing when I left her.’ She stops, looking out the barred window facing the street. ‘When I stood in that hospital and the nurse asked Mary if she wanted her mommy to hold her hand, Mary asked for you instead.’
Guilt hits me, making it hard for me to meet her eyes when she faces me. ‘I never—’
‘I knew right then that you were more her mom than I ever was or would be.’ She shrugs. ‘And I wasn’t even mad.’ She steps closer, for once not looking accusatory. ‘I was relieved.’
Silence fills the space as her words sink in. Words I understand but can’t relate to.
I wonder if this is why Thomas saw Kayla without me. Because he knew it would hurt.
‘She’s happy, isn’t she?’
I can tell Kayla’s asking the question, not because she cares, but because she thinks the answer will prove her right.
And maybe it does.
I think of Mary’s drawings. Her lack of nightmares. Her ready smiles. How she’s found family in Queenie who showed up to play with her even after I left her son’s house so I could come see Kayla. ‘Yes. Mary is happy.’
She nods once, hard. And for a brief moment, real emotion peaks through before disappearing with a wave of her spiked manicure hand. ‘I knew it. You’re her mom.’
