My mother meant the world to me when I was a child. Like all children do, they think their parents are perfect. But as I got older, realized her flaws, I also came to realize that she loved drugs and money more than her own two daughters. She chose the party life over us, most times ignoring the fact that she was married.
Dad was great. He loved us with all his heart, but lost his job as a mall security guard, leaving himself to depend on his wife to take care of the family while he job-hunted. She resorted to the easiest moneymaking tactic when she was fired from her job—becoming a drug dealer.
We were on our own even then, spending some of our days with Aunt Jessie until my mother got jealous of how Aunt Jessie took care of us and told her never to come around again.
When my mother was sentenced to prison for ten years, she managed to have us stay with our grandmother instead of Aunt Jessie, all because of a lie she’d told about her own sister. It sparked an investigation and it wasn’t pretty.
Aunt Jessie treated Tessa and me like princesses—like we were her own girls. She couldn’t have kids of her own, so she took us in with open arms and did a terrific job helping us when our mother was too stoned to do anything.
She was better than my mother was, and I’m sure my mother knew that. What she did was more a spiteful act to Aunt Jessie. Aunt Jessie fought for us but, unfortunately, she died six months after our mother was sentenced. She died in her sleep. She’d gotten a really bad case of pneumonia and didn’t know until it was too late. I heard it was peaceful.
When my grandmother passed away and we were shuffled into foster care, I promised Tessa I would get us out. I didn’t care how I did it, but I would…and I did. As soon as I turned eighteen, I found us a one-bedroom apartment to live in that was close to Tessa’s high school. I walked with her to and from school every day, and instead of going to college, I worked my ass off as a waitress at two different jobs just to make sure I could pay the bills. I did all of it so that Tessa wouldn’t have to worry about anything but living a nice, fulfilling life. I didn’t want her to turn out like me, angry and bitter and depressed. She deserved happiness.
Tessa is a great girl with a good head on her shoulders. She respects herself and is tough, and I love that about her, but I am aware that she watched me struggle and believes my struggles should be hers too. I don’t want her to have that mindset.
I know I can be tough, and it may have been rude to tell the woman who gave birth to me to stay out of my life while she saw me on my sickbed, but I had no tolerance for her bullshit or ignorance after all I’d gone through and did to survive. Enough was enough.
Prior to becoming sick, and back when my mother was still in prison, she swore she’d get clean in the letters she sent me. The sad part about it is, deep down, some part of me believed she would. That was my mistake, though. Trusting her, that is. The only reason she’d gotten out early for good behavior is because she couldn’t access any of the drugs in prison like she wanted.
Ever since the day I told her to go and not come back, I never heard from or saw her again. She was gone. Just like that. Within the blink of an eye. A snap of the fingers. Like fucking magic.
Tessa thinks she’ll show up again, but I know she won’t. My mother knows that she fucked up with us—that she doesn’t deserve to be in our lives. She doesn’t want the burden of my death on her shoulders either, so keeping her distance relieves her of that guilt.
She doesn’t want to have to deal with Tessa’s tears when she comes to the realization that she was never there for her—that the only person who was ever there for her baby daughter was me.
TWENTY-FOUR
Sixteen hours later I’m grabbing the handle of my suitcase and dragging it on its wheels as I walk to my front door. I take one final look around my home, cherishing every small fixture, every family photo.
Something familiar catches my eyes and I go to pick it up. It’s a framed photo of John and me on our wedding day. We were dancing to Ed Sheeran. He’s looking down at me with so much love in his eyes. I have on the perfect ivory A-line wedding gown, my hair neatly pinned up. I remember this day like it was yesterday. I was laughing as he said something to me, my hand clasped in his.