Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
They were both quiet for a minute. Deborah’s eyes kept flickering toward the dresser as she scratched at her arms, making Autumn think there was something in it beckoning to her. Autumn waited for the woman to ask her something. Anything. But she remained distracted by the drawer.
She stood shakily, giving Deborah the only smile she could muster. “Do you, um, need some food? I could—”
“Money would be good.”
“For food?”
“Mm-hmm.” More scratching. A twitch and then another.
Autumn dug in her purse, taking out two twenties and placing them on the table. She knew this money wouldn’t be used for food, but maybe even a small amount of generosity—kindness—would change…something. Deborah just stared.
“I appreciate the time. I…ah, I’ll check in from time to time?” Autumn offered awkwardly.
Deborah waved her hand in the air, dismissive. “Don’t bother. But if you want to drop some money in the mail now and again, I won’t say no.”
“Oh. Ah, well, I’ll see what I can do,” Autumn mumbled. The last thing she wanted was to support this woman’s bad habits, but she was also her mother. A mother who doesn’t give a damn that you exist and never did. She wanted to lecture the woman. She wanted to spit at least a few ugly words at her, but as she stood there looking at the sad shell of a human, she had a feeling more than anything, the woman needed…a hug. Whether she realized it or not. And though she had hurt her, Autumn stepped around the side of the bed, bending down and taking Deborah in her arms.
Her birth mother tensed and then went kind of slack but didn’t move as Autumn held the embrace. When she stepped back, Deborah was looking up at her, blinking with surprise.
Autumn headed for the door. Still, she couldn’t help it; she turned back. She might not see her mother again, and she had to know the answer to the question that had stayed with her as long as she could remember. “Did you name me? Did you pick out the name Autumn?”
Deborah stared at her for a moment as though she’d forgotten Autumn’s name entirely, that look of surprise still clear on her face. But for the moment at least, she seemed to have forgotten the drawer. “Uh, no. Nurse did.”
Well. Another mystery solved. No, her birth mother had not named her. A bureaucrat had given her a surname, and some unknown nurse had chosen Autumn. Maybe she could at least try to pretend that that person had tried to think of something beautiful for the sick, unwanted baby girl who would float by her, as fleeting as the falling leaves outside the nursery window. Or maybe it was random.
The truth is good. Even when it hurts.
“Thank you again. And…have a nice day.” Deborah remained seated, and Autumn pulled the door closed behind her. She called for the elevator, but when it didn’t come immediately, she opened the door to the stairwell, jogging down all four flights as quickly as her feet would carry her, the same way she’d done so long ago at Mercy Children’s Hospital, working her muscles strenuously for the first time in her life. When she made it to the lobby, she was winded, but the bout of exercise had mostly helped her recover from the exchange with Deborah Dunne. My mother.
No, the woman who birthed me.
I didn’t take any Lucy in the Sky. I almost did, but he slapped me right before I was about to inject it.
The woman’s words came back to her as she breezed out the front door of the building, turning the corner and stopping, pressing her back against the bricks. She closed her eyes, a few tears escaping and, along with them, the dream, the longing to believe that she’d been wanted. The scratchy surface abraded her palms as she dragged them along the wall, helping to keep her grounded. The hot tears continued to stream down Autumn’s cheeks for several minutes. She’d spent her life wondering…hoping, and the reality she’d just been faced with was a harsh slap to the face. The soul. She took a deep, shuddery breath, raising her head, wiping the tears, and standing tall. Grief was a barren land of shadowy what-ifs. She’d allowed herself to go there, but she wouldn’t allow herself to stay.
Autumn walked back onto the main street, her gaze pulled upward. Even though it was just past midday, she could see a translucent sliver of moon in the pale, sterling sky. Whether it was full or not, the moon always made her think of him, and she welcomed that now. The boy she’d once believed to be nothing but a dream. Her moonlight monster. The name seemed silly now, but in that moment, the thought of him brought her an odd comfort she couldn’t explain.