What You Left Behind by Jessica Verdi Read Free Book Online Page B

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    â€œHey, Mom?”
    â€œDaaaa-deeee. Daaa—”
    â€œMom!”
    She snaps out of it. “Yeah, bud?”
    â€œI need to ask you something, and I really hope you won’t get upset.”
    She lowers herself back onto the bed, and the joy in her eyes melts into worry—the same worry that was in her eyes the day Meg and I told her about the pregnancy. To her credit, she didn’t freak out then. I hope she won’t now.
    â€œWhat’s going on?”
    I wish I didn’t have to do this. But I’m desperate.
    â€œI…um…was wondering if you could tell me a little more about my father. Michael.”
    I watch Mom carefully. The changes are small, but they’re there. A line of confusion between her eyes. A swallow of surprise. The downturn of her mouth as she deliberates. A rise and fall of her shoulders as she understands what I’m asking.
    â€œDo you want to find him?” she asks finally.
    I look away, and my gaze lands on the corner of Hope’s light green baby blanket sticking out through the slats of the crib. “Da-da-da-da-daaaa,” she sings.
    I nod.
    â€œWhy now?”
    I open my mouth to tell her the truth, but for some reason I can’t say it. “I don’t know.” It’s lame and obviously a lie, but Mom doesn’t push it.
    â€œOkay,” she says after watching me for a second or two. Her voice sounds surprisingly steady. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”
    I look back at her. “You don’t mind?”
    She sighs. “I knew it was going to happen sooner or later. You know I was never keeping secrets from you, right?”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œBut, Ry…” I wait as she seems to work something out in her thoughts. “I really don’t have a lot of information. The last time I tried to track him down, I hit a dead end.”
    The last time she… huh? “You’ve tried to find him?”
    â€œA couple of times. So I could have the information for you when…well, when this conversation happened. And…I guess I wanted to see what he’s been up to all this time. I wouldn’t mind some answers too, you know.” She fiddles with the frayed edge of her cutoff shorts, and for the first time, I see it: she was in love with my father. That’s why she doesn’t talk about him all that much. He broke her heart when he left her.
    Suddenly I’m thinking about all the fights with Meg, her insistence on not terminating the pregnancy, her absolute refusal to even listen to my side of it. Even though she didn’t think she was going to die, and even though it was my fault she was in the position where she had to make that choice…in a way, when she decided not to have the abortion, she was choosing to leave me too.
    Mom’s not the only one with a broken heart.
    I put my arm around her, and she rests her head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
    She pats my knee. “I’d do it all again. It got me you.”
    And I guess that’s where our similarities end. I wouldn’t do it all again. Not even close.
    Hope is quiet now, asleep. The mobile continues its song.
    After a minute, Mom straightens up. “His name is Michael Taylor.”
    Michael Taylor. My father. The picture is becoming clearer already.
    â€œHe’d be about thirty-seven or thirty-eight now. When I checked a couple of years ago, he was no longer living in Boston. Or if he is, his information isn’t listed anywhere. I actually called every Michael Taylor in Boston—came up with nothing.”
    â€œMom,” I whisper, “I can’t believe you did that.”
    She just shrugs. “There are a lot of Michael Taylors in the United States. And all I have to go on is his name, his incredibly common name.” She shakes her head to herself.
    â€œYou don’t know his parents’ names? Or what he does for work? Or anything that will