As we were
walking in from dinner, the phone was ringing off the hook. Charlie, who was
carrying all of the leftovers, stumbled over to the phone. “Hello?” he barked.
His face paled and he shot a glance over to me. I furrowed my brows. “I’m not
sure if she wants to talk to you.”
“Who is
it?” I asked.
Charlie
covered up the mouthpiece of the phone and sighed. “Your mother.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to talk to her,” I said as I picked up
my daughter and carried her to my bedroom. I changed Marie into her pajamas and
tucked her into my childhood bed. “Sleep tight, little one.”
“Love you, Momma,” she said as she tugged on her ear.
“I love you more, my sweet girl,” I murmured as I kissed her
forehead. I flipped on the nightlight and closed the door. Charlie, Sue and
Edward were sitting in the family room. “What did the ‘She-devil’ want?”
“She wants to talk to her ‘baby girl,’” Charlie sneered. “Highly
unlikely. She probably got dumped by husband number 100 and wants money. She’s
been calling me on a daily basis. Begging for your phone number. Begging to get
in touch with her baby girl.”
“Whatever,” I shrugged. “She can stay hidden away as far as I
care. She may have given birth to me, but she’s not my mother.”
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