Page 8 of Emmett

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she shrugs. “We’re here. You might as well.”

I hesitate, chewing on the inside of my cheek before building the courage to ask. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she says with a shake of her head. “He wouldn’t have hurt a fly.”

“Then, if I hadn’t been there…” I brace myself for impact. “Would you have stayed with my dad?”

“Yeah, probably,” she answers all too plainly.

No hesitation.

No second thoughts.

Not a split second of consideration of the son that she left behind.

A sharp pain javelins itself into my chest as I clarify, “So you weren’t leaving him. You were leavingme.”

“I don’t think I would word it like that,” she says.

“But that’s what it was, wasn’t it?” I snap. “If you would have stayed with Dad, but you left because of me, you leftme. I was a baby, Anna, I deserved a mom.”

All this time, I thought maybe Dad was just angry and bitter because he was left behind. That maybe my mom just needed space or time orsomethinguntil she was ready to reconnect with me. I told myself all my life that she loved me and was just too young to handle it yet.

Too damaged; like I am.

Every time I started to wonder if I had ever really been wanted, if she ever loved me, I snuffed out the thought by reminding myself that she wasn’t even an adult yet. She hadn’t had a life to offer me.

I’ve just been lying to myself.

Now I wonder if she even thought about it before she packed up her life and left me behind. Did it hurt? Did she hesitate? Was there any single, microscopic second in which she stopped and thought that maybe one day, she would miss me? That I would need her?

“I don’t understand why…why would youchooseto keep me if you were just gonna walk away from me?” I demand, stifling the burn behind my eyes. “Did you think that just because I had a great dad, I wouldn’t wonder why I didn’t have a mom, too? Did you think I wouldn’t wonder why you didn’t want me? I wondered all the time, and I told myself I was crazy for it.”

“I didn’t leave to hurt you,” she tells me. “It was all just too much. You criedallthe time. I was just a kid and I was exhausted. But your dad gave you a good life, I knew he would. He was always better with you than I was, anyway.”

“That doesn’t matter!” I shout, slamming a fist on the table hard enough that her fork drops over the side of herplate. I duck my head, hiding from the eyes that have now turned to focus on us from around the diner. “I needed a mom, too, and I thought if we met…”

“I’m sorry you’re disappointed.”

“That doesn’t eventouchit,” I tell her through clenched teeth.

She gathers her purse and throws it over her shoulder, fixing her gaze on me. I move my eyes down toward my now empty cup of coffee as she stands and says, “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want.”

“We sat here for an hour and you didn’t even call me by my name once,” I choke out. “The nameyougave me.” I feel like an asshole the second it comes out of my mouth, but as she walks away from meagain, I can’t help myself from muttering, “That tracks.”

As soon as she’s out of my sight, I scrub a hand across my eyes and open my wallet to toss a couple of twenties onto the table so I can get the hell out of here. I need to get as far away from this place as possible and never come back.

•

A muffled pang of guilt strikes me as I walk into the liquor store and the bell above the door dings to announce my arrival. I know that nearly everyone in my life would be disappointed right now if they knew I was here. It’s barely one o’clock in the afternoon and it’s the middle of a work day.

I move through the aisles like a zombie, distantly scanning the different bottles, cans and boxes as I walk past them, trying to ignore the ringing in my ears. I tuck a few different bottles under my arm and grab the first case of whatever canned beverage is nearest me before heading to the register to pay. I silently slide my ID and credit card acrossthe counter toward the cashier, trying to get the transaction over with as quickly as possible.

He tries, I think, to make conversation with me, but no words register in my mind. The only sound coming out of his mouth is garbled nonsense that sounds like it’s coming from underwater.

Or maybe I’m the one who’s underwater.