Motherless

53

I wiped my face with the sleeve of my hoodie, my eyes burning, my head pounding. I turned toward her, my chest still tight, my voice small and shaking.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I know you didn't want me to go. I understand now. I just... I thought maybe she'd be better. I thought maybe she'd changed." My voice broke. "She wasn't. And I'm so sorry. I won't do anything like that again. You were right."

I didn't wait for her to answer.

I leaned into her, burying my face in the crook of her neck, clutching her like if I let go I'd fall apart again. My tears soaked into her shirt as I cried soft, exhausted, desperate for forgiveness.

"I'm sorry," I repeated. "Please don't be mad at me."

She wrapped her arms around me immediately, strong and sure, holding me like there was nowhere else I could ever belong.

"I accept your apology," she said gently. "And I forgive you."

My breath hitched.

"But," she added softly, pulling back just enough to look at me, "you can't go rogue like that again. You can't disappear or make choices like that on your own. I need you to trust me."

I nodded against her shoulder. "I will. I promise."

Then she surprised me.

"I'm sorry too."

I pulled back, confused, blinking at her through swollen eyes. "Why are you sorry?"

She cupped my face, thumbs brushing away the last of my tears.

"Because I should've been more supportive," she said. "Instead of listening, I shut it down immediately. I said no without really hearing how badly you needed answers. And I made you feel like the only way to get them was to disobey me."

Her voice cracked.

"For that... I'm sorry."

My throat tightened.

She leaned her forehead against mine.

"I love you forever," she whispered. "I'll protect you in this life and the next. Even in the afterlife, you hear me?"

I nodded, tears spilling again.

She kissed my hair.

"You may not be my blood," she said softly, fiercely, "but I chose you."

I broke into her arms again, sobbing this time not from pain, but from being chosen.

"Okay," I whispered.

***

We hadn't talked in a while.

Not because we were avoiding each other nothing like that. Just... life. Mom took my phone. I went straight home after school every day. No car. No detours. No late walks. Nothing until my month was up.

My life was paused.

But tonight was different.

Tonight was game night.

The bleachers were packed, buzzing with noise and school colors clashing like war paint. Our school *always* lost to theirs. Every single year. It was practically tradition at this point.

But Hector didn't believe in traditions like that.

I stood beside Mom, gripping the sign I'd spent way too long making:

YOU CAN DO IT, HECTOR!

When he ran out onto the court, I screamed his name so loud my throat burned.