Chapter 4: A Mother’s Fury and a Daughter’s Stand

12

After I threw myself into Mom’s arms, I finally realized everything was real. My dead mom had come back. She must have come back because I was too pitiful.

"Mom... I missed you so much... I... wuwuwu..."

Before I could finish, I burst into tears. I couldn’t stop crying. I wanted to stop but couldn’t.

"Good girl. Cry. Mommy will hold you."

Mom didn’t try to comfort me, just gently patted my shoulder. When I calmed down, she looked me over carefully.

"Sweetheart. How did you get so skinny? When you were little, I fed you until you were chubby. Where did your baby fat go? And... Why is your face swollen? Who hit you?"

The way she said it—worried, but fierce—reminded me of those moms you see at Little League games, cheering the loudest, ready to fight the ump if their kid gets a bad call. The real deal.

13

Lillian hugged her daughter, feeling that she was nothing but skin and bones. That was okay. She could feed her and get her strength back.

She guessed her daughter was just in her teens and wanted to look pretty, so she wasn’t eating well. She did blame Marcus a bit, but thinking how busy he was, being a single dad, she couldn’t really blame him.

But when she looked up—

Her daughter’s face was actually swollen. She immediately thought of one word: "bullying."

Did someone bully her daughter on purpose because she didn’t have a mom? Did Marcus know about this?

Right now~

She remembered to look for Marcus. She didn’t know when, but Marcus was already standing beside them, blocking the afternoon sun for them.

"Marcus. Who hit our Natalie? And it was a slap..."

Mom’s voice trembled with anger, with a hint of sobbing.

"From when Natalie was little, I couldn’t bear to lay a hand on her. Who did this? I want to settle the score with him!"

Marcus pressed his lips together, not daring to look at Mom. The air seemed to freeze.

After a long time—

He finally said: "It was me."

A few passersby glanced over, and a woman jogging with her golden retriever slowed down, catching the tension in the air. I waited, holding my breath.

14

Mom was stunned for three seconds after hearing this. Then, not giving Marcus any chance to explain, with a loud "smack," she slapped him right back.

The sound was loud, drawing the attention of passersby.

Marcus didn’t dodge, just took it. He even asked: "Pretty mad, right? Want to hit me a few more times?"

He was acting like a drama lead, which made me uncomfortable. Mom was still young. She still looked twenty-five. He was already so old...

In public, I didn’t want Mom to tangle with him, so I tugged on her sleeve to get her attention.

But Mom stared at my faded sleeve.

"How many years have you worn this shirt?"

I pursed my lips. Actually, not that many years, just two. After all, I was still growing. Just didn’t have many clothes, and washed them a lot.

I didn’t think this was what Mom should focus on. She should see how old Marcus was now. She finally got a second chance at life, she can’t be with an old man. I thought Uncle Ben was...

Halfway through the thought—

Mom grabbed Marcus’s tie and questioned:

"You’ve got money for fancy cars, but you can’t buy your daughter a decent shirt? What’s wrong with you, Marcus? Didn’t you say, when you got rich, you’d make our daughter a princess?"

She sounded exactly like a Midwest mom who’d just found out her husband had bought a fancy new truck but forgot to buy winter boots for their kid. I almost wanted to laugh, except it hurt too much.

15

Mom was hysterical, but not at all ugly. I stood behind her, thinking she was beautiful.

I had imagined this scene many times. Every Christmas Eve—

Marcus only gave gift cards to Savannah, only ate Christmas dinner with Savannah. After dinner, he’d watch fireworks with Savannah. Uncles who didn’t know the truth would ask why Marcus treated an adopted daughter so well.

Marcus would answer seriously:

"Because she looks like my wife."

"Do you know? My wife was a princess since childhood. Only after marrying me did she suffer."

He hoped Savannah, who looked like Mom, would have a good life. But didn’t care about Mom’s daughter.

Every Christmas Eve, I would fall asleep hugging Mom’s photo. Then in my dreams, I’d see Mom stand up for me. And today—finally, my dream came true.

For a split second, I wondered if I was still asleep, dreaming of a world where Mom came back and fought for me.

But. I didn’t care about Marcus’s answer. Because he’s not important to me anymore. He already sent me to foster care. And the one who brought me out, is Mom.

...While Mom was questioning Marcus in silence—

A Rolls-Royce suddenly stopped. The door opened from inside, Savannah jumped out, running over. Her mom followed right behind.

"Who are you? Stay away from my dad! Dad, what happened to your face... Mom, call the cops... This woman hit Dad..."

Dad, Mom. It’s like they’re the real family.

My mom looked at the suddenly appearing mother and daughter, staring for a long time.

"Dad. Mom."

She muttered, letting go of my hand, "Marcus, you remarried?"

Her sunglasses probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. She looked at me like I was gum stuck to her shoe. Savannah’s mom’s heavy perfume drifted over, mixing with the scent of hot concrete. I could feel the divide between our worlds—the one with country clubs and fundraisers, the one with thrift-store jeans.