“It’s very difficult—impossible even—to love another with your whole heart if you can’t find any of that love for yourself.”
I shook my head. “I still feel dirty now that I know. I am Mama’s pain, walking around in a flesh-and-blood body.”
“Once the shock of it loosens its hold, you’ll be able to think more clearly. And if you sit down and actually talk with your mama, you’ll have the whole truth. Understanding unlocks doors, child.”
I bit my lip, thinking. Bibi was right in that I needed to talk to Mama. Really talk. I couldn’t think about my own situation until I did. They were bound together, and I couldn’t make a decision about my future until I fully understood my past.
I hugged Bibi, kissed her cheek, and booked a flight to New Orleans.
When I arrived in Louisiana three days later, I took an Uber straight to Mama’s little shotgun house on Old Prieur Street in the Seventh Ward. My heart in my throat, I knocked on the door.
Mama answered, a look of shock registering on her face for a moment. Then she nodded as if she’d been expecting me all along.
“Come in.” She offered me a seat in her small living room, neatly and colorfully furnished. “You look…different. Radiant.”
“That’s a word for ‘scared shitless’ I haven’t heard before,” I said and heaved a breath. “I’m pregnant.”
Mama’s eyes widened, and for a moment, I thought she was going to hug me or cry. Or both. But she bottled herself back up and indicated for me to sit on her neat couch in her neat living room.
“Ronan’s?”
“Of course,” I said stiffly.
“The one who’s now in prison?”
I crossed my arms. “Yes. For a crime he didn’t commit.”
Mama pursed her lips as if she’d heard all that before. “Would you like some water? Something to eat?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you going to keep it?”
The question caught me off guard, whacking me in the chest. “And they call me direct. Must’ve gotten it from you.”
She arched a brow.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think so. I can’t imagine trying to get a business that already crashed and burned back on its feet while raising a baby alone.”
“So you came to me?” Mama shook her head, her curls falling around her face softly. “I have no advice. I’ve done nothing but make mistakes. Starting that night with your father.”
“You didn’t make a mistake that night, Mama. What he did to you…that wasn’t your fault.” I shifted on the couch. “But I have to know… Why did you keep me? You had every right not to.”
“Because I thought I could do it,” she said. “I was like you. Strong. Driven. Ambitious. I wasn’t going to let anything stop me. Not my broken heart or the violation of my body by someone I thought loved me. So I pushed through. I tried. For four years, I tried, but every time I looked at you, instead of seeing the beautiful child you are, I saw him lurking beneath.” She shivered and hugged herself. “Pushing through didn’t work. I couldn’t keep you, and I hated myself for giving you up. I’ve been stuck in that purgatory for years.”
“And now?”
She looked at me, her dark eyes heavy. “Does it matter? There’s nothing left of me.”
“That’s not true,” I said. “But, Mama, did you ever get help? Talk to someone professionally?”
“I never told anyone what happened until the day I gave you to Bibi.”
“Why not?”
“It was humiliating and degrading, and I’m already a private person. I don’t like anyone in my business. I try to work hard and take care of myself.”
I sat back, marveling to hear my words come out of my mother’s mouth.