Reading Online Novel

In the Cards(88)



For the first time this afternoon, her tone softens.

“No, Levi. I never had any other children.”

I notice relief flicker across his face. In a flash, he dons his stony mask once more.

Levi and his mother sit in silence for what seems like forever. He’s waiting for her to say more, but she refuses. In my mind, I imagine grabbing his mother by her shoulders and physically shaking her, as if my aggression will force her to apologize to her son and beg for his forgiveness.

Finally, Levi speaks again, in quiet, anguished tones.

“Why, Mama? Why’d you leave me?”

Her gaze fixes upon her hands, which remain folded in her lap, white knuckles visible to all.

“I was pregnant at seventeen. By eighteen, I was a mother and married to a handsome charmer who turned out to be a cheat and a low-life liar. I did the best I could, for as long as I could, but I didn’t want to live that way—in shame, with regret. It was no life for me. Your daddy wouldn’t change. So, after too many squabbles, I left.”

“You escaped a bad life.” Levi’s dead-calm voice alarms me.

“Yes, I did.”

“So, either I was part of what made that life bad, or you left me to grow up in a bad life. Which is it, and why?”

There it is—the crux of the matter, the root of Levi’s insecurities and intimacy issues. I wish I could throw myself around him like a shield.

Surprisingly, his mother’s emotions finally inundate her and unshed tears dampen her eyes. Her voice breaks apart a bit when she answers.

“I doubt there’s any answer to satisfy you. It wasn’t an easy choice, despite how it may have appeared to you. At the time, it seemed the best option. If I took you, I’d have always been tied to Jim. But more importantly, I knew in my heart I wasn’t meant to be a mother. Other mothers bonded with their babies. But I never did. I never did, Levi. Maybe I was too young or too unhappy with Jim, or maybe I’m simply not meant to be anyone’s mother.”

“That’s it? You weren’t meant to be a mother?” He locks his eyes on hers so she can’t evade him. “But you are a mother.”

Her penitent comportment swiftly reverts to antipathy. “Don’t make me out to be a monster. I didn’t abort you, which, at seventeen, surely crossed my mind.” Her venomous retort knocks Levi back a minute, and his retreat emboldens her. “I tried to be your mother, but I couldn’t. Do you condemn women who give their babies up for adoption? I left you with your father. I didn’t leave you in the streets or foster care.”

Levi squeezes my hand so tightly I bite back a yelp. I notice his lower lip quiver, but can’t tell if he’s furious or despondent, until he speaks. His palpable raw pain lashes my heart. I’m in over my head and don’t know how to help.

“You think you’re a saint because you didn’t kill me? Jesus, that’s fucked up.” Levi’s features change shape as his rage deepens. “You didn’t make some grand sacrifice by giving up your infant to some lovin’ family for a better life. I wasn’t a baby, Mama. I was nine. You knew me. You knew I loved you. You never even said good-bye or wrote me a damned letter.” He draws a deep breath. “You left me with a man you hated, not respected. A man you knew couldn’t give me a stable home. You did that to me, after nearly a decade as my mother.”

A tear slips from his eye, but he wipes it away in disgusted anger. He’s trembling. If I could scoop him up and run, I would. But he’s not making any move to leave.

His mother’s remorse has long subsided. I shudder in anticipation of her next response.

“What else do you want me to say? I’ve told you, I’m not mother material. It’s why I never had more kids. It was too much.” She leans closer to him. “You needed too much attention. Always ‘Mama this’ and ‘Mama that.’ You’d cling to me constantly. When I was cooking, you’d be hooked around my ankles like a monkey. When I was napping, you’d crawl beside me and squirm around. When I was watching TV, you’d interrupt me with your laughing and playing. You suffocated me.”

Levi’s astonished face collapses under the weight of his mother’s blame. Outraged by her insensitivity, I abruptly stand and stomp my foot.

“Shut up!” I stare at her and, God forgive me, embrace my lack of filter. “How dare you? How dare you make Levi responsible, in any way, for your pathetically weak choice? You’ve just described a loving, adoring son. The kind of child any mother would be blessed to have.” I shake my head. “But the worst of it isn’t even that you left. It’s that you never looked back, never apologized, and never asked for forgiveness.”