“I don’t think I’ve ever been anyplace this nice before,” Misty said as they entered Georgia’s apartment. Her gaze ran over the pieces of art on the walls and the entire wall of windows on the one side that overlooked the Chicago cityscape. “I’m afraid to touch anything,” she said, clutching anxiously at her backpack.
“There’s nothing to worry about. Just put down your things and relax.” Georgia took her duffel bag and set it in the living room by the couch. “Unfortunately I don’t have a guest room. I’ve never actually had a guest, so we’ll have to make up the sofa bed for you.”
“Okay. It’s nice of you to let me stay with you at all. Hopefully it doesn’t aggravate my back condition.”
“What happened to your back?”
Misty sighed. “Honey, after the life I’ve lived, there’s something wrong with every part of me. You don’t want to hear my sob stories. You’ve got plenty of your own, thanks to me, I’m sure.”
“No, really,” Georgia pressed. It was hard not knowing anything about her mother aside from what was in her file. “What happened?”
She put her backpack on the ground and crossed her arms protectively over her chest. The movement pushed up the sleeves of her shirt, exposing a sad collage of scars across her pale skin. “About ten years ago my dealer had his thugs come for me because I owed him money. They pushed me down the stairs at my apartment complex. They had to put some screws and pins in my spine, so I have trouble sleeping sometimes.”
“That’s terrible.”
Misty just shrugged it away. “Like I said, you don’t want to hear about my life. I’m sure there’s a part of you that hates me, and I don’t blame you for that. But being taken away from me was probably the best thing that ever happened to you. I’m pretty sure that anyone else would’ve been a better parent than I was. That’s why I never…” She hesitated, her face flushing red with emotion. “That’s why I never tried to get you back. I thought you were better off without me. And I was right. Just look at you now. You’d be a mess like me if I’d fought to get you back. That’s why I let all of you go.”
Georgia swallowed hard. She had grown up thinking her mother had never cared for her. From the sound of it, the opposite was true. Her mother had stayed out of her life because she cared. Part of what she’d said confused her, though. “What do you mean, all of us?”
Misty’s gaze dropped to the floor. “You have a younger brother and a sister, Georgia. I should’ve told you that before.”
Georgia was nearly blown off her feet. A brother and a sister? All this time she’d thought she was alone in the world, and now she found out she had siblings she never knew about? “Where? Tell me about them.”
“There’s not much I can tell you. I’m sorry. I was so drug addicted by then that they took the babies from me right after each of them was born. They were both adopted, so I don’t know their names or where they ended up. I might have been messed up, but by then I knew giving up my rights would allow them to have a real family and not end up in the foster system like you. I should’ve done the same for you, but they told me it was harder to place an older child. By then you were five or six. I’ve got a lot of sins to pay for,” Misty said.
Georgia’s knees grew weak beneath her, and she slipped down into the nearby armchair before she fell. She’d known she would learn a lot about her mother and her early years with her, but somehow she hadn’t anticipated this.
“I’m sorry for that, Peaches. I’m sorry for all of this. That’s why I wanted to come here, to see you. To tell you how bad I feel about everything that happened in your life. It’s a part of my recovery, one step at a time. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I needed to come anyway.”
“I think we’ve got a lot of talking to do while you’re here,” Georgia managed.
“That we do.” Turning away, Misty patted the cushions of the couch. “I think this will be comfortable enough. It’s a really nice couch. It’s got to be better than the cot at the shelter.”
Georgia felt a pang of guilt for putting her mother on the couch. She got to sleep in a nice bed every night; she should let her mother do it while she was here. “You know what, Mom? Why don’t you take my bed upstairs? It’s a nice memory foam bed, so you’ll be comfortable. I can sleep down here.”
“Oh no,” Misty argued. “I didn’t tell you all that t
o make you feel bad.”
“Really. It’s not a problem. Let’s take your things upstairs and I can show you around.”
Her mother followed her upstairs to the loft bedroom that overlooked the living room. The large bed took up the center of the space with a luxurious en suite bath. Georgia set her bag down on the foot of the bed. “Hopefully you’ll be comfortable up here.”
Misty looked around and slipped out of her sweater. That exposed even more scars, blended in with a swirl of tattoos that disappeared beneath her short-sleeved shirt. “They’re track marks,” she said, noticing Georgia looking. “Well, not all of them. Some of them are leftover from my cutting phase.”
Georgia knew her mother had a heroin problem, but she hadn’t heard about the cutting. “You cut yourself?”
She nodded. “Yes. That was from my younger years. I was a messed-up kid. Cutting myself made me feel better. It was my only release. At least until I found drugs and sex.” She shook her head and ran her palms over her bare arms. “I should’ve stuck with the cutting. I didn’t hurt anyone but myself.”
Georgia couldn’t help giving her mother another hug. She was the parent, the one who should be comforting her daughter, but in reality, Misty was just a lost child. Georgia wasn’t sure she wanted to know about what set her down this path of self-destruction, but she knew she wanted to help her make a different life for herself.
“You’re turning things around,” she said. “You’ve got plenty of time to live a different life.”
“Do you think so?” Misty asked. Her gray eyes, exactly like Georgia’s, were red and brimming with tears.
“I know so.”
NINE