"I can handle her," I told him. "She's kind of avoiding me right now anyway."
"Why do you put up with it? I have to be honest, I don't really understand your relationship."
"Neither do I," I answered truthfully.
"Emma, has she ever said anything nice to you, you know, like she's proud of you or that she loves you for that matter?"
"I don't want to talk about her," I muttered, picking up the helmet. I was still confounded by all that I'd learned in the past twenty-four hours, and I preferred not to think about her until I had to. "We should get going so I'm not late for practice."
Jonathan nodded and picked up his helmet.
The closer we got to Weslyn, the harder it was to push away the questions that my mother had left unanswered. I still didn't understand what she meant when she said she didn't leave me with Carol and George. I was always told, and thought I remembered, that she shoved all of my things in a black garbage bag and dropped me off on their doorstep in the middle of the night. If she didn't do it, who did? And why didn't she come back for me?
That triggered Jonathan's question―did she ever tell me she loved me? It should've been easy enough to remember, being told I was loved, especially by my own mother. Mothers told their kids how much they loved them all the time. Even Carol would gush over Leyla and Jack with affection, letting them know they were loved.
I may have had a hard time recalling my childhood, but I always knew my father loved me. I never doubted that for a second of my life. But did my mother?
By the time we arrived on Decatur Street, I couldn't think of anything else. Thoughts of who my mother was in my life and why I was trying to build any sort of relationship with her, swirled in my head. I knew my efforts were driven by guilt. I didn't understand why she was set on trying.
Jonathan slowed drastically right before the house, causing me to look up. Rachel's car was in the driveway. My chest spasmed in panic.
Jonathan pulled to the sidewalk and stopped for me to climb off. "I'm so sorry, Emma," he offered as I took off my helmet. "Do you want me to come in with you?"
"No," I replied, hoping she wasn't looking in our direction. "That will just make it worse. You should go."
"Are you sure?"
I nodded.
"Call me if you need anything, okay?"
"I told you, I can handle her," I stated calmly, despite the churning that was devouring my insides. I wasn't sure what was going to happen, but I'd soon find out. I stepped back and watched him pull away. Then I took a deep breath and walked toward the house.
Rachel was sitting on a chair on the porch, and when I got closer, she stood and waited for me.
"Where have you been?! Who was that on the bike? Why didn't you call us? Do you have any idea what we've been going through all day?!" she accosted, her voice elevated with her hands on her hips.
I slowly climbed the steps and gathered myself to try to explain, hoping she'd understand why I needed to get away for the day. I clasped my hands in front of me and looked from the boards up to her reddened face and opened my mouth to speak...
Her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open. "Omigod, you were with him! That was Jonathan, wasn't it? I was right. There is something going on, isn't there? How could you do this to me? Do you even care about me?"
I pulled my brows together in astounded disbelief. I took long drawn breaths to control the fire erupting inside of me.
"It's none of your business where I've been all day, or who I was with," I snapped, causing her to pull her head back in shock.
"What are you talking about?" Rachel countered. "Of course it's my business. I'm your mother."
"No you're not," I scoffed, feeling the tendons along my neck tighten. "You never have been. Don't think you can be now."
"Why are you talking to me like this? What did he say to you?"
"This has nothing to do with Jonathan. This is about you. It's always been about you―what you want, how you feel, who you want to be with. Have you ever once thought about me and what I'm going through? Do you care?"
Rachel's mouth opened in shock.
"Do you ever consider what I go through every time you drink too much, or disappear to a bar to come home whenever you want with whomever you want?"
She stumbled back at my attack. The angry fire spread through my veins, consuming me. I remained unaffected by the stunned look on her face or the tears forming in her eyes. My voice grew louder. I was blinded with fury, and I couldn't hold back even if I tried.