Page 73 of Single Mom's Undoing

My eyes sting as I force myself to smile, then turn to look at him, uncomfortable and squirming in his high chair.

“We’ll see him again soon; I promise.”

I keep telling myself that I’m doing the right thing, even though everything I’ve done so far points in the opposite direction.

“I want Daddy. I miss Daddy.”

“Oh, honey, I miss him, too. But we need to get you to the doctor today. We’re finally going to fix your heart, remember?”

Matty is too little to fully understand what that entails, but he does understand that what is about to happen is important. It’s what makes him crave Carter’s presence even more. They’ve only just met, and they’ve been separated again.

“Momma, I don’t wanna go.”

Once his bag is packed, I turn the TV off and help Matty out of his chair. It’s quite the mission to get him to put his shoes on, but with a bit more pleading, we manage.

“I promise I will call your dad when we’re at the hospital,” I say to Matty. “Will that make you feel better?”

Finally, he looks at me. “Yes.”

“Okay, good. We need to go, sweetheart. We need to get in the car and drive up to the hospital. The nice doctors are already waiting for us, and we don’t want to be late.”

“Don’t want to be late,” he mumbles, repeating after me as I gently wipe his tears and take him in my arms.

I struggle to carry my purse and his go bag in my right hand while I hold him with my left, his legs cinched around my waist. He’s grown a lot over the past few months, and I reckon he’ll be as tall as Carter when he grows up. When. That’s the key word. When he grows up, not if.

“If” is no longer an issue, because we can afford the surgery now.

When it’s all done and dusted, I’ll be at peace, and my son will have a shot at a long and healthy life. That’s all that matters. It’s all I can focus on.

As we come out of the motel room, I barely notice the couple walking toward us. In my mind, I’ve already categorized them as fellow hotel residents. Maybe they’re passing through town or meeting here for a feverish affair. Whatever their reason, I don’t even glance their way until they’re close.

Too close, I quickly realize as I set the bags down and fumble with the motel room key.

“Hey there, are you okay?” the man asks with a pleasant smile.

“Morning. Yes, thanks. Just juggling a few things at once,” I chuckle as my heart skips a few uneasy beats.

The woman looks at me, her face emotionless. Her blonde hair is frizzy and hastily chopped. She’s wearing no makeup, just a tee and some jeans that don’t do much to flatter her bony figure. She’s holding a small syringe.

“What’s that?” I ask with a gasp.

“Don’t worry, it’s a mild sedative, it’s virtually harmless,” she replies casually.

A split second later, she jabs me in the arm with it. Matty starts to cry as he yells, “Momma!”

“Get the kid,” the man says.

The woman scoops Matty from my limp arms. My whole body relaxes too much and too fast. My knees give out.

“No…” I manage as the man rushes to catch me. “I’m pregnant. What did you do?”

“Relax, lady, it’s safe. We just need you to be a good girl,” he grunts as he holds me up, then throws me over his shoulder, like I’m nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

“Let me go! Momma!” Matty cries out and struggles against the woman’s hold, but she keeps him firmly close to her with one arm, grabbing my bags from the ground as she follows the man downstairs.

Slowly but surely, I’m losing my ability to speak.

“It’s okay, Matty,” I mumble, my tongue going numb.