Page 17 of Silent Echo
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
S ebastion won’t stop crying.
I want my mommy is the only sentence he’s uttered for the past two hours. Fortunately, he was asleep when I checked us into the motel. The last thing I need is for someone to call the authorities thinking I’ve kidnapped him.
“It’s time for me to tell you the truth,” I say. We can’t go anywhere in public until he accepts me as his new mommy.
He rubs his eyes and looks at me. He seems so small sitting in that big chair, and all I want to do is hug him and tell him everything will be all right.
“Your mommy doesn’t want you anymore,” I say, watching to see how he’ll react.
“You’re lying. I want my mommy.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Your mommy only has time to take care of your sister. She said she never wanted to have you. That you were a mistake and she tried to love you but she couldn’t. But I do love you. I want to be your mommy.”
Confusion fills his face and he starts to cry again. “My mommy loves me!”
I walk over to him and kneel down, taking his little hands in mine. “I’m sorry, but she doesn’t. But I do.”
“No, I don’t want you.”
He turns away from me and begins to sob. I sigh, stand up, and let him be. He needs time to grieve, but he’ll come around. I go into the bathroom and put some makeup on, trying to figure out how to comfort him. An idea comes to me. I walk over to him again, handing him a box of tissues.
“Here, sweetie. Dry your eyes. Listen to me. If you’d rather be with the mommy who doesn’t want you, I’ll take you back to her. All I ask is that you stay with me until Christmas. What do you think?”
He shakes his head. “No. I want her now.”
“Okay, let me call her.”
I pick up my cell phone and dial my own number.
After a moment, I speak. “Hello, Charlotte. It’s Penelope.
Sebastion doesn’t believe that you don’t want to be his mommy anymore.
Can you talk to him?” He runs over, his hand extended.
I make a face. “What? Please. No, Charlotte, wait—” I shake my head.
“I’m sorry, honey. She hung up. She said she doesn’t want to talk to you.
That she’s tired of taking care of you, and she has to get back to work.
” I feel horrible telling him this lie, but it’s the only way.
He’ll be much happier once he accepts that I’m his true mother, ready to unselfishly devote myself to him.
He crumples in front of me, and I open my arms. He falls into them, crying softly. I rub his back. “It’s okay, it’s all going to be okay.”
I open my laptop and navigate to the Disney website. “Look, sweetie, we can go here soon. Look at all the fun rides. And I bet we can even have breakfast with Buzz Lightyear!”
“Okay,” he says, but there’s no enthusiasm in his voice. He looks shell-shocked. My poor child.
“Are you hungry? Why don’t I order something?”
He shakes his head and climbs up on the bed, curling into a ball. I turn on the television and find a show I think he’ll like. He just needs time, I tell myself. Soon, he’ll be back to the happy little boy I love. I pick up my book on childhood trauma and read.