Page 43 of I Am Salvation

“What for?”

I don’t want to tell her that I’m trying to determine if her long-lost daughter is in fact still alive. First off, I don’t want to give her false hope in case all of these weird texts and notes are just a big red herring. And second, I’m not sure this woman deserves to know.

So I make up a quick lie.

“Because you are all I have left,” I say. “If there’s something in this dilapidated old trailer that can help me reconcile with my past, then I want to see it.”

She cocks her head. “You gonna give me back my dog?”

“No.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, all right. He’s a pain in the ass anyway. Come on in.”

The inside of the trailer is as run down as the outside. It’s cluttered with old newspapers, empty food containers, and various other debris. The air feels heavy, thick with dust and stale odors. A small television in the corner buzzes with static.

I glance around the room. No pictures on the walls, no personal keepsakes. Certainly no photos of me. Not even of Griffin. Just a tattered sofa and a worn-out recliner chair, both stained with food and time. How long has she been living like this?

Head hung low, my mother shuffles past me to sit on the recliner. She pulls out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from her pocket and lights one up without asking if I mind. The sharp smell of smoke fills the cramped space.

“You want something?” she asks, reaching for a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey on a side-table littered with cigarette butts and dirty dishes.

“No, thank you,” I say, even though the booze calls to me like a siren’s song.

But no way. I won’t sacrifice my sobriety for this woman.

“So why’d you come?” she asks, blowing out a stream of smoke that mingles with the already heavy air. Her voice is no longer hostile. She seems weary, as if fatigue has settled deep into her bones.

“To talk,” I say, “about Griffin.”

She looks at me for a long while before responding. “Why now? It’s been years.”

Fuck it. Guess I’ll come clean.

“Because I’m close to finding her.”

Her eyes dart to mine, stark against her weathered face. “You found something?” Her tone isn’t hopeful. It’s more like she’s bracing for impact.

“There’s a lead.” I pause, weighing my words. “I want to know everything you remember about that night.”

She flinches as if I’ve struck her but remains silent.

“I wasn’t there when she was taken,” I say. “You both abandoned me because you thought I had done something terrible. But I didn’t harm Griffin, Mother. She was my sister.”

“I know,” she whispers, her eyes fixed on the floor. “I know you didn’t hurt her.”

Something wrenches in my chest. Not relief, but a deep well of sorrow for wasted years and choices we can’t take back.

“Why, then? Why leave me to fend for myself when you knew I was innocent?”

She’s silent for a long time, taking long drags from her cigarette. “It was easier,” she finally mutters.

“Easier?” I echo, my heart pounding hard. “Easier to abandon me? To let me grow up alone, knowing you thought I was a monster?”

She looks away, her fingers trembling around the cigarette. “I was scared,” she says. “I loved Griffin so much…and after she was gone, I knew that even if we got you back, I wouldn’t be able to bear to look at you without seeing her.”

Rage bubbles inside me, but I swallow it down. It won’t do any good now. “You blamed me for her disappearance.”

“I did,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I blamed you because it was easier than blaming myself.”

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