Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
I could hold on to that resentment and let it eat me alive with all the unanswered questions between us … or I could face her and try to find as much closure as was possible.
“Where do you want to meet?”
I heard her wee harsh intake of breath. Her voice shook as she replied, “I could come to you, or you could come to me. I live in West Lothian now.”
My God, she was physically closer than ever, and she’d never bloody reached out! That heartbroken fury rose its ugly head, and I knew I didn’t want her in my home. I wanted to be able to leave if I needed to. “I’ll come to you.”
I stared at the small bungalow, a wreck of emotions. Mostly I wondered what my childhood might have been like if I’d instead grown up in this house on this quiet street where people looked after their gardens and neighborhood watch signs hung from the lampposts.
“Are you sure you want me to stay in the car?” Baird asked from the driver’s side.
It was the day after the call with Maryanne, a sunny Saturday morning, and Baird had driven me to the well-looked-after development on the outskirts of Blackburn, a town in West Lothian, less than fifty minutes from the city center.
I didn’t know how Maryanne had gone from the worst area, worst tenement in Glasgow, to this nice wee house, but part of me needed to know.
Baird’s frown was deep between his brows, and I knew he was worried about me facing my mother. We’d talked about it at length last night because for Baird, he genuinely didn’t desire or need closure from his birth father. He was at peace with the idea of never knowing him because he felt so strongly about his abandonment. I think he found it hard to understand why I needed to talk with my mother because he didn’t think she was worth it, but I wanted the door on this painful chapter in my life to close for good. I didn’t know how it would close, what that looked like, but I needed to walk away from this discussion having gained clarity about who she was.
“I’ll be okay,” I promised him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Knowing you’re outside waiting for me makes it easier to walk in there.”
He reached over to brush his mouth over mine in answer.
My answering smile was shaky with nerves, so I shoved open the passenger door and got out before I caved into my fears.
Walking up her front path was surreal. Part of me still didn’t believe she lived here.
But the door opened a few seconds after I pressed the doorbell and … it was her.
Not the skinny, decaying mess of a human being who used to slap me around when she was agitated and in need of a hit.
This was an older version of the Maryanne from my early childhood.
She was a healthy weight now that she wasn’t injecting heroin into her body. When her lips parted in a strained smile, I was surprised to see white veneers. The last time I saw her, her teeth were wrecked. Somewhere along the line, she’d gotten the money to fix them. Her dark hair, while still quite thin, was shiny and styled poker straight around her face. The T-shirt and jeans she wore were clean and quality. The only giveaway to her past was her skin, which had a weathered look beyond her age.
Her dark eyes roamed over me and to my surprise, they brightened with tears. She stepped back. “Come in, Maia.”
My legs shook as I stepped into the hallway of the small but modern home. It was well-decorated and nicely furnished. And it didn’t smell like human waste, which was how I remembered our flat in the end.
She gestured for me to follow her into the living room, and I could tell by the way she kept crossing and uncrossing her arms that she was nervous too. “Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee, water?”
I shook my head and stared around the space, taking in the good furniture and the large TV. There was framed artwork … and photographs of her … with a man and two kids. The more I looked, the more I realized that there were photographs of those kids everywhere.
Agony sliced across my chest as I realized she didn’t live here alone.
“Please sit.”
I turned back to stare at her, trying to reconcile this person with the woman I knew.
Slowly, I sat on the edge of the velvet corner sofa.
Maryanne nodded and sat down on the armchair next to it. “You must have a lot of questions.”
I snorted bitterly. “You think?”
She rubbed her hands together nervously, and it reminded me of when she used to do that when she was itching for a hit. “If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to tell you my story and not that shite you read in the paper.”