Not My Mother by Miranda Smith (lightweight ebook reader .txt) 📕

Carmen to know I’ve spoken to Amelia. She might predict my biological mother will want to get in touch, but her brain is busy strategizing for Mom’s defense. I go in through the front door, winding past the stone columns in the entryway. Carmen is sitting at the breakfast bar eating a sandwich, her phone in her hand. When she sees me, she puts it down and stands.

“Everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say, dryly. “Why?”

“I was worried when Michael told me you dropped off Ava. I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“I just needed to get away.”

I look around. I’m not exactly lying, but if Carmen looks closely enough, she’ll see there is more I’m not telling her. The far wall in the living room is a series of windows overlooking the backyard and the beach beyond that. Preston and Penny are playing in the fenced-in grassy area. Esme watches over them from a lounge chair in the shade.

“Where’s Ava?”

“Just finished her nap,” Michael says, walking in holding Ava. He hands her to me.

She folds into my arms, resting her head on my shoulder. Despite all the chaos around us, I feel so complete with her. Close to me. A part of me never wants to let her go.

“Thank you for watching her,” I say. “You know, this whole Daddy Day Care bit might suit you, if real estate doesn’t work out.”

“I’m exhausted. That’s for sure.”

“Did you get anything done at the restaurant?”

“I worked until Des told me to quit.” Michael leans against a counter and stretches his neck to the side. “That woman must have been some kind of military sergeant in a past life.”

“How’s the place look?”

“Good as new, really. Des is considering opening tomorrow.”

“That sounds a bit soon.”

“You don’t want to stay closed for too long,” Carmen says. She carries her plate into the kitchen and leaves it by the sink. “Reopening sends a message to the community that everything is on track.”

But nothing is on track, I think. After speaking to Amelia, I’m not sure sending the message we support Mom is the best move. She committed awful crimes. Whatever messages we want out there, it’s only a matter of time until the truth is revealed.

My phone rings with a number I don’t recognize. A week ago, I would have ignored such a call, assuming it was another sketchy operator calling about my car’s extended warranty, but now there is no telling who it could be.

I answer.

“This is Doctor Raul at North Bay Hospital. May I speak with Marion Sams?”

“Just a minute,” I say, already handing Ava over to Michael again. The guilt stays with me, knowing these constant interruptions keep her at a distance. I enter the guest bedroom down the hall, cracking the door so I can focus. “I’m here.”

“Your mother had a second surgery this morning. It went well. The preliminary scans are promising.”

I blink hard, warm tears in my eyes. Beneath my mounting anger, there is undeniable love for this woman. For Mom. Eileen. The woman who spent what little she had to give me the best life she could. She did an awful thing, but I’m not ready to let her go.

“When will she be allowed visitors?”

“We’re keeping her sedated for the time being. The surgery was successful, but we need to make sure her body can withstand the healing process. Her oncologist has a series of tests he’d like to run—”

“Wait,” I say, unsure I’m hearing correctly. “Oncologist?”

“Yes. We want to make sure the stress of surgery won’t interfere with her ongoing chemotherapy.”

Ongoing chemotherapy. My heart starts pounding faster, like I’ve balanced on a wave, only to be knocked down by another.

“You’re calling about Eileen Sams, correct?”

“Yes. Your mother was brought to us after her attack in the county jail.”

“Right. This is the first I’m hearing about chemotherapy.”

“According to her medical records, she’s been receiving treatments for the past three months. To combat the breast cancer.”

I lean against the wall, resting my head back. My mouth is open, but it seems impossible to breathe. I’m stuck here, in this awful moment. The doctor continues talking, and I do my best to process what he is saying, but I keep returning to those words. Oncologist. Chemotherapy. Cancer.

“I understand. Thank you for the update.”

The words, like so many I’ve spoken these past few days, don’t sound like my own. They’re not a true expression of what I’m feeling, more a cursory impulse of politeness. I hang up, sliding down the wall until I hit the floor.

After several minutes, I leave the bedroom. Carmen is now holding Ava, and Michael has joined the children outside. Such a normal, beautiful day for the Banks family, in their upscale house by the sea. What a shame my own world is falling apart against the same charming backdrop.

“How’s Eileen?” Carmen asks.

“She has cancer.”

She freezes, her eyes wide and blank, then she nods toward the closest armchair. “Maybe you should take a seat.”

I remain standing. “She’s had it for months. She’s been undergoing chemotherapy. Has an oncologist. All of it.”

“Did the surgery impact her—”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Why wouldn’t she tell me she was sick?”

Carmen sits, bouncing Ava on her knee. “Maybe she had her reasons.”

“Her reasons?” I gasp, nervously. “Maybe Mom just has a reason for everything. I’m sure she had a reason to steal me as a child. A reason to lie about my entire childhood. A reason to hide her cancer diagnosis.”

“She didn’t come out and lie,” Carmen says. She whispers, even though we are alone. “She just didn’t tell you.”

“No shit, Carmen. I didn’t know you were supposed to ask people these things. Are you my real mother? Are we hiding from my biological family? Do you have cancer? I assumed, being as close as I thought we were, she wouldn’t have a reason to be so deceptive.”

I pop my knuckles. Carmen has been quick to defend Mom when it comes to the charges against her, but I assumed that was her