Page 104 of Our Broken Pieces
I shake my head. “No, but don’t let me order coffee. Just get me a hot chocolate with almond milk.”
“You got it.”
“I’m going to go over to her.”
“I’ll be right here.”
I nod and release her arm. I start walking toward my mother when she sees me. Tears come to her eyes, and she meets me halfway.
“Genevieve?”
“It’s Gigi now.”
“Hi, Gigi.”
“Hi.” I have no idea what to say to this woman standing in front of me.
“Should we get a table? I can come back up when they call my name.”
“Sure.”
We find a table and sit, and I point to where Audrey is standing in line. “My friend Audrey came with me. She’s just ordering our drinks.”
“That’s nice. Your hair is so red now. When you were little, it was a strawberry blonde.”
Audrey comes to the table, holding her hand out to my mom.
“Ms. Kelly, I’m Audrey, Gigi’s friend.”
“Hello, Audrey. I’m Sarah.”
Audrey sits, and we awkwardly talk about the weather, waiting for our orders. Once we’re all back to the table, I decide to break the ice.
“Why did you call me? Why did you want to see me after all this time?”
Her face softens. “I’m not getting any younger, Gigi. I know I made a huge mistake with the path I chose in life, in letting you go. I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
I nod my head. “How did you know where I work?”
“I looked you up online, saw your social media accounts. When I saw all your pictures, getting a glimpse at the person you’ve become, I was filled with so much regret.”
“Thirty years is a long time. You’re just now feeling regret?”
“It hasn’t been just now. I’ve felt like a piece of me was missing since the day they took you away.”
Audrey sits quietly, watching our interaction. I’m thankful she’s here; her presence is keeping me calm. “Why didn’t you and Dad ever try to get me back?”
“Your father and I weren’t healthy individuals. I tried to clean up for a while, but your father kept with our old ways, and it caused me to fail. I thought you would be better off in any household but ours.”
“I didn’t have a family. I bounced around for years.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize—”
“Because you didn’t care,” I interrupt her.
“I always cared. I just knew I couldn’t take care of you.”
I look down at my hot chocolate, trying to keep my voice steady. “I just don’t understand how drugs were more important than your own child.”
