“I just don’t get it. Why would he just ditch out on everyone in his life like that? He didn’t tell his family?” Sharon asks me.

I’m filled to the brim with anxiety. After the baby was born, I was trying my best not to think about Lawrence. I heard that he disappeared and that no one knew where he was, but it didn’t matter to me. He shorted on all his responsibilities as a man. He could have told at least one person where he was going.

“I really don’t know, Sharon. Like I said, it’s just really exhausting thinking about it. I’d rather just—”

“He’s probably dead,” she says. “Like one of those hikers who just gets lost. That probably happened to him.”

“Oh my God, just stop, already!” I whisper.

I look down at my baby boy. He’s so tiny and pure. Every time I look at him, tears fill my eyes. I don’t care where Lawrence went. It’s just me and George, my son.

“Lawrence has nothing to do with this.”

“I’m sorry. I’m being totally selfish,” she says. She sits down next to me, holding a small glass of wine. She hands it to me, but I have to decline, since I’m still breastfeeding George.

“No, it’s fine. It just hits a little too close to home. You know?” I ask her.

She nods and places her hand on back. She runs her fingers up and down. I start to relax.

“Aww.” She peers at George, who has just opened his eyes. “I love him so much, Jacqueline. I’m just going to say this now. I don’t plan to have any children. It’s just too much responsibility and I’m too crazy, anyway. So I figure if you need any help, I can be there for you.”

I laugh, but she’s sweet. “You’re going to be this kid’s daddy?”

Her face lights up with confidence. “Hell yeah, girl. I’ll be such a good daddy.” We both start laughing. “You know it’s true.”

“Actually, I do. But I don’t want to put this all on you,” I say. “This is sort of my mistake. One small mistake that turned my world upside down…”

“We all make them,” she says.

I nod slowly. Any time I get sad, all I have to do is keep my eyes on George. He’s the size of a little bean, but he fills every space with enough light to keep all darkness away. He’s my everything.

“I know you have things under control. You’re strong,” she says.

“Don’t worry,” I laugh. “I’ll call you when I’m having problems. I won’t hesitate.”

“You better not. You used to always keep everything so buried,” she says. “But I definitely see a change in you now. You’re all grown up.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Let’s hope my tits hold up for a little while longer.”

“You know you have the best boobs in this town. Those things aren’t going anywhere,” she says.

I’ve needed Sharon’s dumb jokes to keep me going lately. For a while there, I was sort of keeping to myself. The only person I’d talk to is Marsha, and that wasn’t the best advice I’ve received. “Go mess him up!” she told me. She’s old school like that.

Sharon has always understood me to the core. She knows what I’m going through just by looking at me. I feel grateful to have a friend like her. But she can’t be here all of the time, and when she leaves, things start to feel pretty empty.

I spend my time focusing on George, and I spiral into memories of how it used to be when I was a child. When I was a baby, my mom used to rock me in a rocking chair. She’d sing children songs to me. She opened her heart and built me into the woman I am today. Later in life, she wasn’t as great to me. We’ve had our falling outs, but when I hold George, I know just how much she gave up to have me. I feel in debt to her.

Right now, I’m sitting in a rocking chair, not all that different from the one I was rocked in. I quietly sing “Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star.” He’s quiet and calm. He keeps his eyes closed most of the time, but every once in a while, he stares at me with wonder. I don’t know what path we’re headed on, but I can only think good things.

I put George to bed and quietly step outside the room. I pull out my phone and stare intently at the screen. I scroll down to “MOM” on my contacts. I bite my lip and feel my heart race. I haven’t talked to her in at least eight years. She went down a broken path and I had to let her go. Now, I think it’s time to connect our past together with the future. I call her and wait as the phone rings.

The phone finally stops ringing, as someone answers. That person doesn’t say anything into the receiver. I can hear the sound of a bic lighter, followed by the sound of a large inhale. “Mom?” I ask.

“Jacqueline?” Her voice is rough and tired. I remember what she used to sound like. She had beauty and elegance tied into those vocal chords. Now, the pain has broken through. It’s obvious she has given most things up, but the vices are still too much for her.

“What are you doing calling so late?” she asks.

“I… I just wanted to talk, mom,” I say. “I know things have been pretty bad for a while.”

She takes another drag. There’s a pause, but she interrupts it. “Pretty bad? My own daughter rejected me,” she says. There’s the motherly guilt. She hasn’t changed. She may never change. But I still have love for her.

“I want to make things right again. It wasn’t good how we left things that night,” I say.

Tears form in my eyes, but I’m not going to allow myself to get overemotional.

“You spit on my carpet,” she mutters.

She neglects to say that she slapped me in the face. She told me I was worthless. She ran back into the arms of that… man. My stepfather was the one who ruined her. He got her smoking. He turned her onto drinking at night. And then she formed a habit. She hid bottles in her wall. Next it was the gambling. It all took its toll on her soul. That’s when she lost me.

“I’m never going to do that again. I just… look, there’s something I need to tell you,” I say.

I’m exhausted. I’m barely hanging on. But making things right in my own life is the necessary step to move forward. I may not have Lawrence here to raise George, but he can still have a good family.

“Whatever you have to say is probably a load of crap,” she says. “You were always a great fibber.”

“I had a baby, mom,” I say.

I just let the words fall out. Judging by the silence, she doesn’t know how to take the news.

I hear my stepfather in the background talking loudly, but the words are muffled.

“Bullshit,” she says. “You’re going after my money.”

“I don’t want your money. I’m doing well on my own. I just wanted to let you know that you’re a grandmother now. Congratulations,” I say, tears falling down my cheek. No matter how hard I try to hold them in, they don’t allow me to.

“You’ve made a mistake calling here. I’m nobodies mother now,” she whispers. Her voice moves into a lower octave. “You’ll regret having a child. Life brings nothing but misery and pain.”

She hangs up the phone. I collapse to the floor, in tears. For George’s sake, I keep my cries muffled. I don’t want this to be a house of pain and sadness. I won’t let it be.

This was an accident, but it’s not a regret. Lawrence is someone who couldn’t commit at the right time. I suppose he was going through his own trauma. It’s hard to forgive someone who disrupted your life like that. I’m still unable to fully do that.

I know that this child is the answer to all my problems. It’s not going to be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is. I’m going to have to work my ass off, but I’m going to do it right. I’m going to be the mother of all mothers.