Forlot: The Mom Who Lives Next Door - Book Twelve

Chapter Five

Our mom led us to her office, which was not so roomy. Like most offices that I have seen in fictional life or on television, it was small and could only fit one or two people. But lucky me and my baby sister. This rule applied to adults because most are tall. My sister is as tiny as grapes on a vine, and I was half of my biological mom's size, so the three of us could fit in the room with no problem.

In the office, the floor was a dark brown, and the walls were gray. There was nothing on Mom's desk except a computer and a picture of only me and Little Amy. Examining the photo, I had the feeling that Mom was still angry with Dad, and you know what? I was most certainly on her side.

She had every right to not have any pictures of our dad or speak with him. She shut him out of her life. After all, he was the one who did all the yelling, not her, and by doing that, he caused me and my sister to be afraid of them both. We were scared that Dad would start shouting at us, and I never questioned Mom as to why he did what he did to her. I mean, he would have a reason for doing it...right?

The reason that I had never asked Mom why he snapped at her was because I was afraid that she would snap at me and Amy. But not because she was mad at us or blaming us. I could tell that she was frustrated. And I was correct.

Although she had not told it to my face, I sometimes would overhear her, eavesdropping if you say, in the middle of the night, complaining how she was trapped. Trapped with our father and how she desperately wanted to escape from the marriage and start fresh. I felt bad for her. It was like that Dad was trying to get her to leave.

Now that she was free from him and had not heard his shouts and cries for a while, I decided to ask her if she knew why Dad acted the way that he did towards her.

There were three empty chairs, one behind the desk and two in front of it. I sat down in the chair that was the farthest from the computer, and Mom sat in the one belonging to her. She propped Amy in her lap and played with the little hairs on her head.

Amy laughed, for she loved when a person played with her hair, and exclaimed, "Mama!"

Mom giggled, and a tear escaped from her eye and streamed down. Oh, how happy she was to see her beloved children.

She had her eyes on me now. "I thought that coming to my office to talk would give us some privacy," she said. "How is everything back at home? Is your dad still as healthy as when I left him?"

I crossed my arms and slumped in the chair a bit. I did not want to chat about Dad. She and I knew already that he was a jerk. And she should not be mentioning him anyway! Not after what he did to her!

"The same," I muttered. It was loud enough for her to hear.

"That is...good. I guess."

"He should be in a mental asylum."

I thought that Mom would be disappointed that I said such a thing and scold me, but of course, she did not. She knew firsthand at what he was capable of.

"Oh, Jackson. I have tried the very best that I can to help him. I have sent you and him letters, and most of them state somewhere that he should go and see a therapist or something." She waved a finger at me as if scolding me. "He is not fit to take care of you or Amy."

My eyes bulged at the word 'letters,' and I waited for her to finish before I responded, "Letters? What letters?"

"You know. The letters. I have sent dozens of them to you and your father. I even put stickers on them for Little Amy to see."

I shook my head slowly. "I have not seen any letters from you. Nothing in the mail from you."

"You checked, right?"

"Actually, Dad is the one..." I let my voice trail off as I realized something. I now knew why I had never read or even seen Mom's letters.

"Jackson?" Mom said. "What were you saying?"

I narrowed my eyebrows, and I slammed my fist on top of the desk. "That son of a gun!" I exclaimed. There were loads of anger in my voice. "Dad always checks the mail. Sometimes, I want to check our mail, but he insists that he do it, so I let him. I...never thought—"

She leaned forward in her chair and cut me off. "Do not blame yourself, sweetie. Please. You had no idea that I was sending letters." She took my hand into hers and sighed. "I should have known that scum was up to no good."

"I should have known too, Mom."

She gently squeezed my hand, and her loving smile reappeared. "Just be glad that the three of us found our way back to each other again." She let go of my hand, leaned back, and put a finger over her lips. "And let us keep this secret between you, me, and Amy. Your father would be livid if he finds out."

I nodded. "Definitely."

"By the way, how did you even find me?"

"Amy and I saw you through the window. We were stopping here anyway because Dad accidentally broke one of Amy's dolls and wanted me to get her a new one."

"A new doll, you say?" She rubbed her chin, and then snapped her fingers. "I have the perfect doll for you. Her name is Gabi Dollson."