Cold. Distant. The only time she had ever written my name.
I had saved her number that day, thinking maybe one day there would be a grandchild, or at least a reason to reach out. But Jason always made it clear I wasn’t to contact her directly. Even at their wedding, he told me to sit in the last row and let him have his chance at a new life without me ruining it.
I should have known then that my son was ashamed of me and had forgotten where he came from.
“Do you have any idea what is happening outside our house right now?”
***
The pillow was lumpy. My eyes closed. No tears came.
The phone stayed silent on the nightstand through the long hours of the night, and through the slow gray climb of morning. Past seven, it shrieked.
I fumbled for it, pulse jumping before steady hands could catch it. The screen lit up with Olivia’s name.
