Chapter 6 - A MOTHER'S BETRAYAL
Sitting in Eleanor's kitchen,
wrapped in a warm blanket,
I felt a numbness settling into my bones.
The tea was hot,
but it couldn't warm the cold space in my chest where my love for my son used to live.
"We have to call the police,
Margaret,"
Eleanor urged,
her hands shaking as she poured the water.
"They can't just lock you out,
it's illegal."
"I know,"
I said,
staring at the steam rising from my cup.
"But Robert said the police might not do anything if Matthew claims he lives there."
"They'll say it's a civil matter."
"That's ridiculous!"
Eleanor cried,
her face flushing with anger.
"He is your son,
how could he do this to you?"
"How could he let that woman destroy your life?"
I didn't have an answer.
I only had the memory of Matthew's face,
the weak,
frightened look in his eyes as he stood by and let Jessica spit poison at me.
I pulled out my old flip phone,
my fingers trembling as I dialed his number.
It went straight to voicemail.
I dialed again,
and on the third try,
he finally picked up.
"Mom,"
he whispered,
his voice tight,
as if he were hiding in a closet.
"Please don't call me,
Jess is really mad."
"She's mad?"
I laughed,
a hollow,
bitter sound that surprised even me.
"Matthew,
I am standing on Eleanor's porch,
locked out of my own home."
"My clothes and my photos are in the trash."
"How could you do this to me?"
"How could you let her do this?"
"Mom,
you don't understand,"
he whimpered,
and I could hear the tears in his voice.
"I owe a lot of money,
Mom,
really bad people are looking for me."
"Jess said if we didn't get this house,
if we didn't use it to get a loan,
they would hurt me."
"She said you have sister Helen,
you can just live with her,
she has a big house."
"So you stole my life to pay for your mistakes?"
I asked,
feeling a door close in my heart forever.
"You threw your own mother out like garbage because you were too weak to face your own debts?"
"Mom,
I'm sorry,"
he sobbed.
"Please,
just let us have the house,
just for a little while,
until I can pay them back."
"No,
Matthew,"
I said,
my voice suddenly cold,
hard,
and empty of any maternal warmth.
"You are not my son anymore."
"You are just a thief."
I hung up the phone,
not waiting for his reply,
and looked at Eleanor.
"Call the police,"
I said,
May you like
my voice steady.
"Tell them there are intruders in my home."
