Sex Empire II

16. Momma Stone

"The truth of my family will come out." Margaret Stone

Another one of her kids was dead and buried. This should not be happening.

But she could only grieve so much before she went on with her life. They say everyone handled grief differently. She used this as a time to face some of her fears.

She went to see her parents.

"Mother, Father."

In their old, senile age, one would think they would be thrilled to see her. Her mother was ninety years old, the best years of her life long forgotten. She was pretty in her youth. Tall, lean, tan, blonde, and blue eyes. Now her crinkly skin was darkened and looked like crepe paper with polka dots. The liver spots tarnished her once unblemished skin.

Her father was ninety seven and for the life of her, why did evil get to live so long? He was an evil man and the reason she went looking for attention from boys at a very young age. Once she knew boys would do anything if they could lay down with you, it was over for her.

Her old father was a bed hopper as well. He did not think she knew he cheated on her mother since the day they married. Even fathered other children he did not claim. He was not the upstanding citizen he pretended to be.

"What do you want, whore," her mother said looking her dead in the face.

"Yeah, that's right, I'm the whore, but not that man that beat you and screwed around on you."

"How dare you say that about your father! He's a good man."

Her father had no words, probably because the lung cancer was eating away at him as he lay in a hospice bed in the large, old home she grew up in. She was hoping to say her final goodbyes to him, but he was still hanging on.

"I came because I thought we could let bygones be bygones, you know, with daddy dearest dying here. I just lost one of my daughters...I understand what you are going through."

"You will never understand what I am going through having all those bastards with those ni-"

"Say it! You're not too old for me to slap the taste out of your mouth!" she shouted at her mother. "Never disrespect my kids ever in your life. The rest of your little life. You hear me."

Coming to see her parents was a joke. They disowned her all these years and pretended she did not exist while her father went on to become a State Senator. Hid her in the background so well, that no one even knew about her. To the good constituents of the state, they only had two sons. No one ever said a word about her.

It hurt a bit, to not even be acknowledged, and then she remembered how horrible they were. They were red-necked racists in a racially diverse part of southern Illinois, yet they spewed hatred for anyone who was nonwhite. They even hired only Black and Hispanic maids and butlers and treated them like dirt.

She never wanted her children around any of that growing up. It wasn't like when Keily was born and she appeared white, did she go show her off for their acceptance. They either accept all of her children or none.

Except for the one.

She was thirteen when she was first pregnant and they hid her away the entire time. As soon as her baby boy was born, they snatched him from her arms at the hospital and took him away. She never saw her baby boy again. She never knew what he looked like, who raised him, what they named him, or if he was even still around the area.

She looked high and low for him years later after Rodney was murdered. Her motherly intuition made her want to find him. She went to her parents then, but they shunned her and would not speak to her.

That was twenty-five years ago she last saw them.

Now again, she was here to beg and plead with them, before her father passed away, to tell her where her son was. Surely they kept in touch, it was their own flesh and blood. She even tried to contact his father, but they moved away shortly after the baby boy was born.

He was only fourteen himself, her boyfriend at the time, friends of the family. Would come over and have dinner with their family. And while they thought they were off playing video games, they were off doing naughty things.

"You're not going to tell me where you sent my son? That's all I want to know, and I have a right to know."

"What son? Which bastard are you talking about?"

She swore she wanted to choke her mother out. She knew exactly who she was talking about.

"Fifty-two years ago, you gave away my child."

"Because you were a child."

"It was still my baby, my choice! And you never gave it to me."

"You're unfit to be anyone's mother."

"And so are you!" She was done talking to this shriveled old prune. She was getting nowhere with her and her father couldn't say a word.

If only they did not share the same last name. Not that anyone would ever connect her to this well-to-do family. She had not even told her children they were related. Once Tamra asked, curious as she was, and she shrugged it off and said maybe distant cousins, but that she was from St. Louis and they were in Illinois.

Good thing Tamra was not too bright to figure the distance of those cities meant nothing and that her parents kicked her out of the family. Her younger brothers also were both prominent politicians in the region, and never once uttered her name or felt a need to contact her. They were married, with families, and none of their children even knew she or her children existed.

The number of Stones out there, all related, and they did not even know it.

As she made her way out of the mansion, she heard someone call her name. When she turned, she saw her younger brother, James looking older than she could imagine. She had not seen him in person in fifty-one years, but plenty of times on the news. He would be sixty-one years old now, but he was not aging well.

He was blonde and blue-eyed like her, but that ended the similarity. He was short and round as if he never said no to a good meal.

"Margaret, that is you!" James rushed over to her and grabbed her in a hug. "I thought you were dead."

He what? She pushed away from her younger brother. "Why would you think that? I'm alive and well, no thanks to you, mother, or father, or anyone else."

"Whoa, wait! I thought you were dead because mother and father said you died. After you ran away, they explained to us you died two years later."

"What?"

"Drugs or something, and they said to never talk about it again." James hugged her again. "It's like I'm seeing a ghost."

She could not believe her parents would tell her brothers something like that. They were too young to understand, but they were still her brothers. Not that she was close to them back in the day, but until her parents disowned her, she always looked out for her brothers.

"You never tried to look for me?"

"Why? As I said, we thought you were dead. You're my sister. I missed you."

She did not know if she could trust him. He could be like their father. A racist, narcissist.

"I'm leaving. I will not come back for his funeral. Or hers. If you all wanted to kill me off, just pretend I'm already dead."

She headed for the door with James right behind her.

"No wait, Maggie!" The nickname he used to call her. "Why'd you come back now? Why?"

She had no idea why. Maybe for the closure, she thought she would get. Forgiveness from her parents? Maybe a sorry and them recognizing they were wrong so many years ago.

"Nothing. I came back for no reason at all." She reached for the doorknob to make her exit.

"You came back to find your son. I know where he is."

She stopped dead in her tracks. How did her brother even know?

A/N: A lot to digest here. Imagine how many Stones are really out there? From her father doing his thing, to her son out there. Yes, so soap opera of me.