Lost in madness

46

The revelation hits me like a ton of bricks. Andrew has found his mother – the woman he's talked about missing for as long as I've known him. And he didn't tell me. The realization of how far we've grown apart makes my chest ache. I stand there, frozen in disbelief, my mind racing with questions.

"I'm not sure why he would like bring me here," I mutter, more to myself than to the woman standing before me. She's beautiful, with Andrew's eyes and an air of elegance that seems both natural and practiced.

She tilts her head, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "Are you not happy to see me?"

A tense chuckle escapes her lips, and I can feel the awkwardness settling between us like a thick fog. My heart pounds in my chest as I struggle to find the right words.

"Not exactly sure how to feel about the woman that abandoned her son," I blurt out before I can stop myself. The intrusive thoughts that have been swirling in my head since I realized who she was have finally found their voice.

I watch as a flicker of pain crosses her face, quickly masked by a practiced smile. "You're a ray of sunshine," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Would you like some tea? How about some ginger tea? Heard it's good for the immune system."

The sudden shift in topic throws me off balance. I glance around the room, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. "Where's Andrew?" I turn around, ready to go find him and possibly strangle him for throwing me into this situation without warning.

"You think I'm a bad mother." It's not a question, but a statement filled with years of guilt and regret.

I pause, my hand on the doorknob. Part of me wants to leave, to escape this uncomfortable confrontation. But another part, the part that's always been curious about Andrew's past, makes me turn back to face her.

"A good mother wouldn't abandon her child to start a new family," I say, my voice trembling slightly. "Do you have any idea what he went through?"

Her eyes harden, and for a moment, I see where Andrew gets his stubbornness from. "Sit," she orders, her tone leaving no room for argument as she serves tea on the table. "Sit, and enjoy your tea before it gets cold."

I hesitate, torn between my desire to leave and my curiosity to understand. Reluctantly, I take a seat, the china cup warm against my palms.

She takes a deep breath, her fingers tracing the rim of her own cup. "I was 23," she begins, her voice soft but steady. "Anything outside that statement is irrelevant at this point. Was I happy with my decision? No, that's something I regret and will continue to regret for the rest of my life." Her eyes meet mine, challenging. "Got anything else you would like to add?"

I take a sip of the tea, buying myself time to process her words. The warmth spreads through my chest, a stark contrast to the cold tension in the room. "I still don't understand," I admit, "but I'll try to stay out of your business."

"That's probably for the best," she says, a hint of relief in her voice.

We sit in silence for a moment, the only sound the gentle clinking of cups against saucers. Despite my initial reluctance, I find myself enjoying the tea. It has an aftertaste that's surprisingly refreshing.

"So," I venture, curiosity getting the better of me, "how did you find him?"

A small smile plays at the corners of her mouth. "He found me. I stepped out to throw the trash and noticed a man staring at my house from across the street. I recognized him immediately." She pauses, lost in the memory. "I invited him in for some tea, and he's been stopping by ever since."

I let out a quiet scoff, thinking to myself, *He's really going hard on the stalking thing.*

She leans forward, her eyes studying me intently. "So what about you? What's your story with my son?"