Audrey's Choice

Chapter 4

A few hours later, I waited for Mom to come pick me up from school. While most of my friends caught the bus, walked, or drove home on their own, I was always chauffeured.

At first, my mother’s overbearing practice annoyed me. I was eighteen for crying out loud! Kids in pre-school were allowed to walk home on their own.

Over the past few months, however, I’d come to appreciate the free ride. Belize’s temperatures could reach obnoxious heights.

Why would I give up a comfortable ride in air conditioning for the discomfort of catching the bus or the displeasure of walking? My thirst for independence melted beneath the force of the Caribbean sun.

Mom’s small SUV pulled up to the curb. I hopped up, putting my playlist on pause. Mom hated when I wore my headphones around her, especially when she picked me up in the evenings.

“Good evening, Audrey,” Mom greeted me. She forced a smile but I could see right through it.

My mom and I were close. It had been just the two of us growing up. My mom’s family all lived in Cayo, a district a couple hours away.

We barely got to see them.

My dad was not a part of my life. He’d left my mother when she refused to abort me and he never looked back.

Eh, such was life. I didn’t want to know scum like that anyway.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“What?” Her distracted gaze fell on me. “Yes, I’m fine.” I didn’t believe her.

Mom smiled. “I’m serious. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Are you sure you’re fine? Because when I first came in here you looked like death.”

“Wow… harsh. Did I look that bad?”

“Yeah.”

A lot of people said that Mom and I looked alike. I guess I could see the resemblance.

We were both short, not a stick over five foot three inches. I got my curly hair from her though my strands were longer and looser. Mom’s sloping nose and thick lips were passed down to me as well.

But there were facets of my face that I could only attribute to my father. My almond shaped eyes, my cocoa-colored shade, and the dimple in my left cheek were all features that Mom did not possess.

“What do you think about ordering fried chicken tonight and watching a movie?” Mom said.

I leaned back in surprise. We never ate fried chicken on weekdays. Ever since I could remember, the deliciously greasy meal was reserved for the weekends.

“Mom, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

“Please. Stop being so overdramatic. It’s just fried chicken.”

I shook my head and rejected her idea anyway. “I’m good. I ate a big meal at lunch.”

“Okay.”

Mom focused on the road. Her grip on the steering wheel was tight and she seemed extra taunt as she flicked her indicator to turn onto our exit.

“How was school today?” she inquired as the silence in the cab lengthened.

“It was fine.” I replied and then stared at the toes of my worn tennis shoes.

I’d define my style as eclectic chic. I loved vintage T-shirts with ridiculous sayings or random pictures.

I adored jeans and had a bunch in a million different colors. My arms were decorated with string bracelets crafted by the local talent at the tourism village down by the sea.

I studied the intricate pattern of the blue bracelet on my left hand. Maybe I’d return to the village to purchase another bracelet from

Jeremy. The Rastafarian artist could turn any everyday item and make it fabulous.

Sometimes, when I went downtown, I’d sit and watch him work. The idea appealed greatly to me. As long as Stanley didn’t call to hang out, I’d most likely head to the tourism village.

Buoyed by my weekend plans, I followed Mom into our modest, split-level home in a nice neighborhood just outside of town.

The sun was beginning to set behind the pointy spears of the green trees on the lot across from us. I kicked a coconut that had fallen from our sprawling tree to the side and hopped up the verandah two steps at a time.

Mom was still eerily quiet. I wished I could pester her into telling me what was wrong. Instead, I decided to wait her out.

Mom was a lot like me. We clamped up if we felt harassed.

I rushed inside and threw my bag into the sofa, tumbling into the soft cushions after it.

I pulled out my phone and instantly connected to the wi-fi so that I could check my various social media pages and post new pictures.

I’d taken an impressive photo last week and knew it was the perfect little tease to the game Stanley and I were currently playing.

Mom disappeared into the kitchen. I barely noticed as I thought of an amazing caption to publish with the photograph.

After about ten minutes, I decided on a trite phrase about feeling ‘lonely’ and published it.

Take that Stanley Preston!

Take that Stanley Preston!He’d be crawling on his knees in no time.

I felt the sofa depress and glanced to the side, surprised to see Mom there. I hadn’t even heard her reenter the living room. She had the moves of a ninja.

I put the phone down and adjusted myself so that I could watch her without craning my neck.

She clutched her hands together and set them in the taunt fabric of her blue skirt. Mom worked as the head secretary for a prominent law firm in the city. I’d never seen her go to work in pants.

“Audrey…” Her voice was hoarse and her expression so grave that I immediately sat up and scooted closer to her.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.” “Anything, Mom.” I rubbed her back.

She flinched and moved her shoulders so that my hand was drawing circles in the air. I felt a bit hurt by the action but buried it down deep.

Mom squeezed her eyes tightly shut and blew out a breath before admitting. “It’s about your father.” I tensed. We didn’t speak about him. Ever.

When I was old enough to hear the story, Mom had explained that my Dad had abandoned us.

It was the truth though it had pained her to speak of it. I knew she carried guilt from my younger years.

As an innocent child, I’d often asked why the other kids had daddies and I didn’t. Looking back, I could now recognize how hurt she’d been by my questions.

I made up for it when I got older by never mentioning him again. Mom seemed to pick up on the unspoken rule.

Her words today were so out of the blue that I was genuinely taken aback.

“He’s not a father, Mom.” I corrected her. “He’s a sperm donor.”

Mom nodded and then glanced at me. I saw something I couldn’t recognize in her eyes and steeled myself for a bombshell.

“Actually, I wasn’t very honest about that.”

“What do you mean?”

Mom sighed. “I did meet your father during my last year of college. That’s true.”

“Okay…”

“We did date for a bit and then I found out I was pregnant.”

“He asked you to have an abortion and when you said no, he bailed. I know this already.” I wondered why Mom was putting herself through this torture just to repeat the same story again.

“Well… not necessarily.” I froze.

“I didn’t tell him,” Mom confessed.

I rubbed my eyes and then pulled my ears, wondering if I’d heard her wrong. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“He broke up with me before I could tell him and I was so angry… I figured I’d punish him by keeping you a secret. I returned to Belize a few months later and he didn’t know a thing.”

“Mom,” I shot to my feet. “Mom, please tell me you’re joking.”

pleaseMy mother shook her head. Tears began to spill from her eyes. “He found out. I don’t know how, but he’s coming to Belize to meet you. He wants to meet you, Audrey. I’m so sorry.”

“I-I need to be alone right now.”

Mom was bawling her eyes out on the sofa. I felt like joining her. Instead, I headed to my room and locked the door. The rug had just been pulled from beneath me and I didn’t know how to react.

I had a father. I really had a father.

It was just too much. I curled up in a ball on my bed and stared at the wall for a very long time.