My voice rough from sleep, I uttered, “No way, Jose. Let me grab a shower and we’re outta here.” Before I walked over to the bathroom, I kissed the top of her head, loving the sweet smell of her.
In no time at all, I showered and dressed in jeans ripped in all the right places, flip-flops, a slouchy sweater, and my aviator sunglasses before piling my hair onto the top of my head and tying it in a messy bun. Ceecee was waiting for me in the hall dressed in faded jeans and a sweet floral top, her hair brushed and let down to fall at her shoulders. I smiled to myself. My little girl indeed has a crush. No one dresses up to go to the park. She made a good choice. Sam won’t know what hit him.
We drove to the park, chatting about nothing in particular. When we arrived, Ceecee let herself out and I asked, “When is Sam meeting you?”
Ceecee’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Sam? I’m not meeting Sam.”
I felt my own brows furrow to match hers. “Then who are you meeting?”
Ceecee opened her mouth to respond, but something in the distance caught her attention. She smiled then, bigger than I’d ever seen her smile, and wheeled herself off in the direction behind me. I turned, and with the sun in my eyes, I removed my sunglasses, holding a hand up to shield myself from the distracting rays. Ceecee approached a woman sitting at a bench. A slender, pretty woman with shining auburn hair, falling in waves down her back, and with one look at this woman, my entire world shattered.
There was no mistaking it.
The woman was Ceecee’s mother.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ceecee
I know it’s her the second I see her. The photos in the box were old, but she hasn’t changed that much. She looks like me. Well, I guess I look like her. The only difference is that I have my dad’s eyes. My heart pounds as I move closer to her. As soon as she sees me, a sad smile crosses her face and she stands.
She’s pretty. I mean, really
pretty. Her long reddish-brown hair is wavy and sits just at her waist. I immediately decide to grow my hair to that length. Maybe she’d like that. I’ll have to ask her. What do I call her? Mom? I guess she is my mom, even though I can’t ever remember her being around.
She eyes my chair and asks hesitantly, “Cecelia?”
I nod, unable to speak. She waves an arm out to the bench. “Take a seat.” As soon as she says it, she winces. “I’m sorry; I meant—”
I decide to put her out of her misery and cut in with a quiet, “It’s okay. I know what you meant.” I wheel my chair beside the bench and she sits once again, shifting away from me. She’s probably as nervous as I am.
She plays with her fingers, looking away from me. “Why did you contact me, Ceecee?”
My heart sinks at her tone. “Because I wanted to meet my mom.”
At the word mom, her eyes widen. “Please, call me Madeline.” My cheeks flush. She sounds so stiff, so formal, as if I’m nothing to her. Shaking her head, she asks, “Does you dad know you’re here?”
I shake my head and force a smile. “No, he doesn’t.”
He just doesn’t get it. Every time I ask about my mother, he stops the conversation before it even begins. Then I found the box. It was like a sign. I don’t need his permission. After all, this woman is my mother. She looks so classy dressed like she is, in black pants and a white shirt, the type you see in expensive magazines. Maybe she’ll take me clothes shopping sometime. I’d really like that.
Madeline clears her throat. “Ceecee, the only reason I agreed to meet you today was to have a serious chat with you.”
My gut clenches. What kind of chat?
Before I can ask, she states, “I have a husband and two young sons.” Her eyes meet mine and they’re cold as ice. “I’m sorry. I know this might sound harsh, but I don’t have room for you in my life.”
***
Helena
I stand there, in the place she left me, waiting for the moment she needs me. And I spot it before it comes. The woman doesn’t even look at Ceecee; she talks to her hands, the arrogant bitch. My feet already moving towards them, protectiveness surges through me, burning through me like fire in my veins. Ceecee’s face crumbles and she cries hard.
My pace quickens, and soon, I’m running across the park as fast as I can to protect my grasshopper from this hard looking woman. As soon as I approach them, I kneel down and wrap my arms around Ceecee. The woman stands, looking down at Ceecee in shock. I wrap my girl up tight, and bark, “What did you say to her?”
Ceecee looks up at her mom and sobs, “Why don’t you want me? What did I do? Was I a bad baby?” Ceecee pleads, “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it! Please, don’t leave!”
The woman’s eyes fill with tears, but she doesn’t speak.