Page 101 of Our Broken Pieces
Gigi
Me:Root beer floats
Audrey:My place in 30?
Melonie:I got ice cream
Me:Sounds good.
Audrey:I got root beer. Everything okay?
Me:I don’t know.
Marcus held me for what felt like forever, and I sank into him, needing it more than I realized. There’s a comfort in his embrace I’ve never known anywhere else, like a quiet, steady warmth. Pressed against his chest, I feel so small, enveloped by his body. His grip isn’t tentative or cautious—he holds me with purpose, as if I’m wrapped securely in his strength, protected in the safest way possible in a big cage of man muscle.
When Samuel told me I had a call this afternoon at the salon, the last person I expected it to be was my mother. After thirty years of no contact, I was beginning to wonder if she was still alive. I Googled her every now and then, curiosity getting the best of me, but never found anything about her, not even a social media account. And when she told me who she was? It was as if a sledgehammer had hit me in the chest. All the oxygen left the room, and I had to sit down.
We only spoke for a couple minutes. She did most of the talking. I had no words for her at that moment. When I hung up the phone, Samuel was still standing beside me and he knew something was off. After I hung up and told him what had just happened, he told me to go home for the day and ushered me out the door before I could find something to occupy my mind with. When I got home, I let the tears come. Tears of confusion, mainly, and all the years of not having a mother, came rushing over me.
I hate it when people see me cry anything other than happy tears. I hold things in until I’m by myself, so no one sees me as weak or too emotional. When I was in therapy, we linked it to an experience I had with one of the foster families I stayed with when I was little. They called my crying “noise” and pressed me to just get over things and not be so affected by the outside world. My need for acceptance drove me to withhold my “bad” emotions. I just wanted them to love me enough to keep me, so I bottle everything up. The behavior still stays with me today.
I drove into the city and made my way up to Audrey’s penthouse. When I walked into her kitchen, my two best friends stood by the island.
“Gigi, what happened?” Audrey walks over to me.
“I spoke to my mom.”
A look of confusion comes over Melonie’s face. “Your mom?”
“Yeah, she called me at work today.” I sit at the counter, Audrey pushing a glass toward me. “She wants to see me.”
“After all these years?”
“This is so weird.” Melonie stands shaking her head.
“I know.”
“Let’s back up here. What did she say?” Audrey places scoops of ice cream in our glasses.
“That she was sorry, that she wonders how I turned out. You guys, it was so surreal.”
Audrey thinks for a moment. “Why now?”
I look up. “What do you mean?”
“Thirty years of silence and now she reaches out? Something doesn’t feel right about this.”
“She seemed sincere. She was crying. She wants to meet for coffee next week.”
Melonie rubs my back. “Are you going to go?”
I nod my head, stirring my drink. “I think I want to. Marcus said I’m not allowed to go alone, though. Would one of you want to go with me?”
Audrey reaches over the counter, placing her hand on mine. “I think you know either one of us will be happy to be by your side. Just say the word.”
I look at Melonie. “Is it okay if I have Audrey go with me?”
“Of course. I would probably say some words that shouldn’t be said, anyway.”
