Page 233 of Broken Brothers

“So you’ve really kept in touch with them this whole time,” I finally said, after we’d crossed over into Connecticut.

“Yep,” Mom said.

“Can I ask why?”

“Of course, you can ask anything, dear,” she said. “I always felt like a boy should know who his real parents are. And besides, they gave us the gift of you. I want to stay in touch with the person who gave me a gift that wonderful, you know?”

“Oh good grief,” I said, but I couldn’t help the smile that came to me. “Well, they gave me a gift, too. They gave me the gift of being your son.”

“Oh, now you need to stop,” Mom said. “You’re going to make me cry. I only hope I did an OK job. With Edwin, it was just so… hard sometimes.”

I put a hand on her arm and smiled.

“I’m going to see the woman that birthed me today, but you are my mother,” I said. “You got that title with the job you did. I’m just sorry it took me so long to call you that.”

Mom just smiled as tears streamed beneath her sunglasses. I let her have her moment, if only so that she could also concentrate on the road. We went silent for another fifteenminutes as I listened to the barely audible radio, playing classical rock from the 70’s and 80’s.

“What do you know about my birth mother?” I said.

“Well, you know her name is Bethany. She works as a personal trainer now at a gym, but back when she gave you up for adoption, she was a high school dropout. Just sixteen, I believe, when she gave birth to you.”

“Damn.”

“Worked a lot of jobs to try and make it work at first. But I’ll let her share the story. She’s a wonderful woman.”

I smiled and nodded. I supposed that my birth mother and I did have an awful lot to catch up on.

“Oh, one thing you’ll want to know, she did remarry,” Melanie said. “I think your stepfather—if you want to call him that—works as a mechanic somewhere.”

“Ahh,” I said. “I might be interested in meeting him. I mean, I’m sure I’ll shake his hand. But this trip is for my mother, you know?”

I’d heard enough to have a base of knowledge to go off of. Once we were less than an hour out, I was surprised to realize how nervous I felt. These were people I had refused to see, even refused to visit at the graveyard. Would Bethany forgive me for refusing to come to Parker’s funeral? Would she be mad at me? I knew she had some measure of compassion if she was inviting me and Melanie over, but still…

At least I’m not spending so much time thinking about Layla. At least this is so heavy and so important to me right now that my mind’s not thinking about her.

We pulled into a small town, Richmond, and took a few detour streets before we pulled up to an apartment complex. It looked a little run down, but I didn’t feel unsafe. It was certainly a far cry from the mansion I had grown up in, but then again, what wasn’t?

“You ready?” Mom asked me.

I gulped and nodded. I tried to wonder what my Mom would look like and how she would react. But as we got closer and closer to the door, my brain started to just shut down. I couldn’t think straight. I was really glad that Melanie had come with me; I wasn’t sure I would have been able to finish this part of the task without her.

Mom knocked on the door.

“Coming,” I heard on the other side.

It was a sweet, gentle voice. The door handle clicked, and the door swung open.

And there was my mother. My real Mom. I knew immediately it was her—I could just feel the connection. I could see the same eyes as I had. I could see the body frame. I could sense her spirit.

“Mom,” I gasped.

“Chance? Chance…”

She leaned in and hugged me, and I took her into my arms. I felt tears streaming down my face as my mother also sobbed into my chest.

It had been eighteen years since I’d seen my mother. An entire childhood had come and went without me ever seeing her, without me ever talking to her, without me almost ever acknowledging her existence. But now that I was here, it felt like just yesterday that I’d seen her. It certainly had that vibe.

“Oh, Chance,” she said. “Come in, both of you! I made us brownies for the occasion.”