Poison and Cure

XXVIII - Mother (and lack thereof)

بسم الله
In the name of God
November 14th, 2004 4:47pm
Augusta, GA, Center of Decay

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"Genesis?"

It is a dark, moonless Saturday in which I am filling out random paperwork and Oliver has been organizing his discoveries by date. I had offered to do it, of course, but he insisted. (What is he even paying me for?) It reminds me of when he had asked my hand in marriage and wouldn't stop helping me clean. Is he nervous about something?

"Hm? What do you need?"

Oliver and I are sitting at the far opposite ends of the couch; he beckons me closer so I get up and sit across from him.

"Genesis, where..." he pauses, adjusting the stacks of paper so that they are perfectly parallel, "I've known about your father, but not much about your mother. Why is that?"

The question surprises me, although it shouldn't.

"She isn't really in my life."

"Why's that?"

Unlike the marriage proposal, his slim, dark eyes haven't left mine for a moment. During all of this excitement and romance, I forgot how intimidating he is. I squirm in my seat before answering,

"Long story short, she left me to my dad right after birthing me. Didn't even look back. But I found maternal family, and her, and connected a little bit. But she isn't really interested in me."

"Don't you think I should know something like that?"

Startled by his words, I immediately lift my head to meet his stern gaze.

"I... I didn't think it would be important to you, Oliver."

"Do you not realise that is something I would decide for myself?" He asks, his eyebrows furrowing. "Genesis, you know better."

"I..."

I feel like he's accusing me of something. It isn't as if I am hiding anything from him; I told him when he asked, after all. I didn't evade the question.

"Should I say the long version then? Because now I feel like I'm hiding something."

"Are you?"

"No!" I exclaim, scratching at my hand nervously, "but I also did not think I was hiding anything before."

"Alright, then," he says firmly, sitting back and opening his legs, relaxed, "Tell me the long version, then. You said you connected with family and her, tell me more about that."

I realise he isn't upset, just insistent. At least, I'll pretend that so I can keep my wits about me.

"Alright, um... well, I searched for my mum when I was nineteen, so not too long ago. I ended up finding her after prying her name from my father. I introduced myself, and... she kind of only had negative things to say. But someone else I heard on the phone wondered who she was talking to and my mother got pressured into talking to me regularly."

"What parent must be forced to speak with their child?" Interrupts Oliver, squinting at me.

"My biological mother, I suppose. Since then, I called her once a week. When she didn't respond, I texted once a month. Now, we only talk on Christmas or when she wants something," I finish, shrugging, "There isn't much I can do."

"And your father?"

I furrow my brows, "What about him?"

"Is there anything crucial that I should know?"