She knew the name of Maisie’s favorite toy but not the medication Ivy needed during allergy season.
She purchased expensive clothes without asking their sizes.
She promised outings, then changed the dates when something more interesting appeared.
Still, the girls waited by the window.
I kept allowing the visits.
Then the letter arrived.
The Custody Petition
The envelope was thick and white with gold trim.
Inside was a letter from an attorney.
The language was formal.
Petition for legal guardianship.
Best interests of the minor children.
Restoration of the natural parent-child relationship.
Marlene intended to seek full custody.
By the time I finished reading, my hands had gone numb.
She had not returned to rebuild a relationship.
She had returned to collect evidence.
Photographs.
Outings.
Receipts for expensive gifts.
Proof that she now possessed enough money to provide a more impressive life.
I waited until her next visit.
She arrived before the girls returned from school.
Marlene entered without asking and sat on the sofa as though the apartment still belonged to her.
I held out the letter.
“What is this?”
She barely looked at it.
“It is time I did what is best for them.”
“What is best for them?”
“You have done enough.”
I stared at her.
“Enough?”
“You managed.”
Her tone was dismissive.
“They survived. But I have opportunities now. Connections. A good home.”
“You left them at two weeks old.”
“I was not well.”
“You left me at eighteen with two newborns.”
“You always were dramatic.”
“I gave up college.”
“That was your decision.”
The words struck harder than I expected.
“You said they were not my problem.”
“And yet here we are.”
She glanced around the apartment.
“They deserve more than this.”
“This is their home.”
“It is a cramped rental above a laundromat.”
“It is where they were raised.”
Marlene rolled her eyes.
“You cannot provide the life I can.”
“You do not even know them.”
“I am their mother.”
“You disappeared.”
“That was seven years ago.”
“As though time erases it?”
She stood and adjusted her coat.
Then she said:
“I need them.”
Not:
I love them.
Not:
I miss them.
I need them.
I looked at her.
“For what?”
Marlene hesitated.
Then something calculating appeared in her expression.
“You would not understand.”
“Try me.”
“I am rebuilding my life.”
“So?”
“People respond to redemption.”
She lifted her chin.
“The mother who overcame everything and reunited with her daughters. It is powerful. Inspiring.”
I could barely believe what I was hearing.
“This is about your image.”
“Call it whatever you like.”
“You want to use them.”
“I can provide opportunities.”
“For them or for you?”
The apartment door opened.
Ivy and Maisie entered carrying their backpacks.
Both stopped when they saw us.
Marlene’s voice immediately changed.
“Hello, babies!”
But the performance came too late.
They had heard enough.
“Benny Stayed”
Ivy’s face crumpled first.
Tears filled her eyes.
Maisie stepped slightly behind her sister.
“You don’t want us,” Maisie said.
Marlene blinked.
“That is not true.”
“You left.”
“That happened a long time ago. Mommy was having a difficult period.”
Ivy shook her head.
“Benny stayed.”
“I know he helped.”
“He did not help,” Maisie said. “He raised us.”
Marlene’s smile tightened.
“I am your mother.”
“You bring things,” Ivy cried. “That is not the same.”
The words poured out of them.
Years of questions I had not known they carried.
“You missed my school play.”
“You didn’t know I wear glasses.”
“You don’t know which one of us hates tomatoes.”
“You weren’t there when Maisie broke her arm.”
“You don’t know our teacher’s name.”
Marlene attempted to interrupt.
The girls continued.
“Please don’t make us go with her.”
Then they ran to me.
Two small bodies collided against my waist.
Ivy buried her face in my shirt.
“You are our real parent.”
Marlene’s expression changed.
The artificial warmth disappeared.
