Page 88 of Broken Bonds

“It was an orphanage, Lionel,” she begins. “Of course there were other children like you there.”

Either she doesn’t understand me or I’m not explaining myself well enough.

“Do you know if I had a brother or any close relatives?” I get straight to the point.

“What? Of course not,” she replies, clearly taken aback. My mother has no clue what I’m getting at. “That’s why we ended up adopting you from that place. Your father and I were desperate to have a child of our own. After pulling every string we could, our lawyer recommended that specific orphanage. And when we met you—a charming boy with big brown eyes who sang The Bird and danced and never stopped talking—we knew we had found our son.”

There’s something fishy here. As a child, I never remember being particularly adept at seeking attention or being chatty. In fact, I had to learn how to sing just to loosen my tongue…

“But now that you say it,” my mother says after a few seconds of silence. “Anton and I were very concerned when a week later, we went to pick you up and you looked like someone else. Somewhere you lost that energy. You came to us withdrawn, locked up in yourself, and you know well what we had to overcome so that you could speak smoothly. At that time we thought it was because of the changes, but now that you say it… Lionel… what’s going on? Why are you asking me all these strange questions?”

I sigh before answering, it’s best to be careful, at least for now. I don’t want to upset my mother’s nerves in case this doesn’t lead anywhere.

“Don’t worry, it’s just that I feel inquisitive today.”

Closing my eyes for a moment, I can imagine her flattening her mouth into a thin line. My mother knows me well and knows that I’m lying.

“Now, I want you to tell me why you helped Stella get out of the house last night?”

She makes a sound that sounds like she’s half coughing, half gasping. She knows that I’ve asked her directly because I have the information in hand.

I’m not a man who launches accusations without proof.

“You’re my son,” she offers those words as an explanation. But they are not enough, in no way can they ever be.

“And I’m also an adult who can make his own decisions.”

I’ve always been careful not to go public with my personal life, because I don’t like the idea of strangers poking their noses into my affairs.

“She wanted to leave,” she babbles, she wants to convince me that this is true. “I just made it easier for her.”

No, dear mother, you aren’t going to get out of this so easily.

“And that’s why you helped her get out before I could talk to her, that’s why you bought two tickets so I couldn’t track her that easily.”

Again she gasps, she has no escape. I caught her.

“I told her and now I’m going to tell you,” she snaps, her voice full of arrogance. “You can’t blame me for trying to protect my son. You’re the only thing I have.”

Those words make my blood boil, how dare she?

“And she’s my life, Mom, my whole world. Now I can’t find her, and I’m afraid she’s in danger.”

She makes a noise of outrage.

“Surely she will be at her house in that town enjoying the money they paid her to become your wife.”

Smoke is coming out of my ears. Indignant, I put the phone away before answering.

“I’m in Carrollton and Stella is missing,” I tell her. I want my mother to learn the consequences of her actions. “We don’t know if whoever attacked me has her.”

I’m sure that statement has stolen her breath, because for a few seconds she says nothing, until she clears her throat. “She must be hiding, like the dirty rat she is.”

Because of the respect I have for my mother, my love and gratitude for her I swallow everything I want to tell her. My father flashes in my mind, how a man treats his family says a lot about him. And although I’m going mad with anguish, I’m not a jerk.

“We’ll talk later.”

“Lionel… Son…” I don’t want to hear any more excuses. I finish the call by letting myself fall on my back on the sofa looking at the ceiling. My head is about to burst, and this pain in my chest is not receding.

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