A knock on my bedroom door disturbed the silence. I closed the diary and hid it underneath the covers.
“Come in.”
Mother walked in and sat on the side of my bed. Her puffy eyes betrayed dried tears. I overheard her and Remi behind closed doors arguing about me. Earlier in the day, when Remi brought me home, he ranted the whole time. When he got tired of letting off steam, he gave me the silent treatment, staring straight at the road, distant and angry. I wasn’t sure I could ever connect with him, let alone allow him to be a father to me.
“Honey,” she said. Mother twisted the knotted handkerchief in her lap, her bony knuckles white from tension. “How would you like to go live with your father for a while? Maybe it would be good for you to make that connection.”
“My father?” I convinced myself she couldn’t be serious, just desperate.
“Oh, never mind.” She wistfully tossed her head aside, looking across the room, “You—you’re so much like him. He couldn’t get along with a fence post, let alone me. I don’t want you to turn out like him—an alcoholic, hooked on drugs, wasting all that talent. Of course, I’m sure he’s not like that now....”
A distant look of regret and sorrow shadowed her blood-shot eyes, hardened by the passage of time. She hated my father, what he did to her, how he deserted us on a dark street in Miami. I had heard the story many times. Mother wandered the streets looking for a stranger to take us in. Who wanted to put up a homeless mother and a crying baby?
Her raw emotions flared. “Why can’t you behave at school and not cause us so much trouble? You want to destroy this marriage, too?” She dabbed her tears with a handkerchief. “I—I don’t know how to love you. You push us away with your bad behavior, like you mean to hurt us.”
I reminded her of a past she wanted to forget, especially when I looked a certain way, though I never knew what that way was. I had his eyes, his smile. If only I did have his talent, maybe I’d be worth something.
“You have no idea what I went through to keep you,” she continued. “They wanted you.”
“Who wanted me?” I asked.
“You were a ward of the state.” Regaining her composure, warmth returned to her strained face. “Get some sleep, honey.” She leaned over and whispered. “I want you to do well on the testing tomorrow.” She kissed me on the forehead and left.
As she closed the door, her words echoed in my ears. She wanted me to do well to save her marriage. That was it. It was all about her. What about me? Shadows swept through my bedroom. Dancing shades of gray cartoon creatures covered my walls once again as I drifted off to sleep.