Chapter 9 - The Apology I Didn't Have to Accept
Mom looked different on the video call.
Her hair was shorter.
She wasn't wearing makeup.
There were no shopping bags.
No silk blouse.
No diamond bracelet.
Just Mom, sitting at a kitchen table in a plain blue sweater.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she smiled nervously.
“Hi, Sydney.”
“Hi.”
She looked toward the camera.
“You've grown.”
I almost laughed.
It had only been a few months.
But I understood what she meant.
I wasn't the same girl who had stood in the hallway holding twenty dollars.
Mom looked down.
“I've been thinking about what happened.”
I said nothing.
She continued.
“I owe you an apology.”
My stomach tightened.
She took a breath.
“I should never have left you alone.”
I stared at her.
She didn't add a joke.
Didn't mention independence.
Didn't tell me I was making too much of it.
She continued.
“I should have arranged for you to stay with a responsible adult. I should have made sure you had food and someone to call. I should have answered your messages.”
I swallowed.
Mom's eyes filled.
“You were right to ask for help.”
I looked down at my hands.
For thirty days, I'd imagined her saying those words.
Now they were finally here.
But they didn't make everything disappear.
I still remembered the empty refrigerator.
The sound of the lock.
The blue check beside my message.
The nights I slept with the hallway lights on.
Mom wiped her eyes.
“Can you forgive me?”
My throat tightened.
I looked toward Nora.
She sat nearby, giving me space without leaving me alone.
I turned back to the screen.
“I don't know.”
Mom nodded.
“Okay.”
I stared.
She continued.
“You don't have to decide today.”
For the first time, she sounded as though she understood that my feelings belonged to me.
I took a breath.
“Why did you leave?”
She looked down.
“I wanted to get away from everything.”
I waited.
“After your dad died, I felt trapped. Then Derek suggested the trip.”
I thought about that.
“Why didn't you ask Aunt Nora?”
Mom closed her eyes.
“Because I was ashamed.”
“Of what?”
“Of needing help.”
I looked at her.
She swallowed.
“And because I didn't want her to know how badly I was handling things.”
I thought about Dad's letter.
Being brave doesn't mean handling everything alone.
I looked at Mom.
“You made me handle it alone.”
She began crying.
“Yes.”
I nodded.
That was all I needed to say.
The contact ended a few minutes later.
Nora asked whether I wanted hot chocolate.
I said yes.
We sat on the couch.
For a while, I didn't speak.
Then I said:
“She's sorry.”
Nora nodded.
“She said she is.”
“Does that mean I have to go back?”
“No.”
I exhaled.
Nora continued.
“Adults will continue assessing the situation through the proper process. An apology doesn't instantly replace the work needed to make things safe.”
I looked at her.
“Good.”
She smiled sadly.
“Good.”
Over the following months, Mom attended services required by her case plan and took part in the reviews concerning my care.
The financial matters continued separately.
Some disputed trust funds were recovered through the relevant proceedings.
Additional questions concerning Mom's and Derek's conduct were addressed by investigators and the courts.
I didn't follow every development.
That was deliberate.
I had school.
Friends.
A science fair.
And a hamster campaign that was gaining momentum with Uncle David.
In January, I won second place at the science fair.
My project was about light pollution.
Dad would've loved it.
I built a model showing how city lights affect the visibility of stars.
Nora sat in the front row.
David wore a shirt that said:
PROUD SCIENCE UNCLE.
It was extremely embarrassing.
I loved it.
When the awards were announced, I looked toward the audience.
Nora stood and applauded.
David cheered too loudly.
For a second, I felt an old sadness.
Dad should have been there.
Mom should have been there.
Then Nora smiled at me.
I smiled back.
I couldn't change who was missing.
But I could see who had come.
That evening, Nora drove me home.
The sky was clear.
I asked her to pull over near a little park.
She did.
We got out.
Stood beside the car.
And looked up.
Orion was visible above the trees.
Dad had taught me how to find it.
I pointed.
“There.”
Nora smiled.
“Your dad's favorite.”
I nodded.
She took my hand.
For the first time in a long while, the stars didn't make me feel alone.
They made me feel remembered.
Then I looked at Nora.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“If Mom gets better, can I still love living with you?”
Her eyes filled.
“Of course, Sydney.”
I looked back at the sky.
“Good.”
Because that was what I'd finally begun to understand.
May you like
Love wasn't a competition.
And choosing somewhere safe didn't mean I had stopped loving the person who failed to keep me safe.
