Poison and Cure

XXXI - Conversation

بسم الله
In the name of God
November 21st, 2004 10:11pm
Atlanta, GA, Genesis's Father's house

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I wanted to call her one last time. My biological mother. After hearing the story from my father, somehow I felt my connection to her diminish even further, reducing her to something worse than a stranger. Sipping a mug of room-temperature coffee, I stare at the house phone.

"How long are you gonna stare at it, Genesis?" My father questions, raising a brow, "Whoever you're gonna call, just call already."

"It isn't that easy."

"Maybe not, it is that simple, though," he shrugs, wiping down the counter with a random household cleaner, "But sure, take your time."

I take a deep breath, removing the phone from the receiver. My eyes trace the cool metal device in my hand, rethinking.

If not now, Genesis, then when?

Not giving myself time to back down, I dial my biological mother's house phone number and immediately walk down the hallway that leads to my childhood bedroom, shutting the door behind me. It rings. And rings. And continues to ring until a second before voicemail would kick in, a jump click of someone entering the other line.

A calm voice answers with a quizzical, "Hello?"

"H...hello, Meredith," I greet, my fingers scratching at the plastic device.

She sigh, "It isn't Wednesday, why are we talking?"

Her switch in tone causes a lump in my throat to form.

"Meredith, do you even want to have any sort of relationship?"

She's silent, and the humming background noise of a tv and snoring fills the speaker.

"I'm here because you are."

My brows furrow as I try to prevent myself from being defensive, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I never reached out for a reason."

"I... and what reason is that?"

"I wanted a child. I only never wanted it with him," she pointedly says, referring to my dad, "Too complicated, too... soon. I have other children, now. There is no reason for me to be a mother to you."

"I..."

What do I even say? I cannot feel hurt, I don't know her. I feel.. offended? Before I can even decide on my emotions, she continues,

"I already have everyone I want in my family, I just... don't need you. Besides, you're an adult. What do you even need me for?"

Her voice sounds like a haughty teenager, entitled and unempathetic.

It sounds like she never grew up.

"I... don't suppose I need anything from you. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me."

She exhales, as if she was barely able to be bothered, "Alright."

"I won't call you anymore. I hope you enjoy your family."

My voice sounds foreign to my ears; lazy, thick, and disinterested. If she picks up on it, she doesn't mention it.

"I will. And... and you as well. I know you have a man who cares for you. I heard it through the grapevine. Or in magazines."