Page 7 of The Disputed Legacy
This never-ending pressure to eke out a life on the little I had gnawed at me, ripping shreds of my soul until I felt so utterly empty and hopeless.
“Mom?” Oscar said as he came into the kitchen to throw away his juice box. He’d taken up camp in my room, which was the only room that hadn’t been flooded as badly.
“Hmm?” I smiled at him, determined to make sure his memories of me would always be positive ones, never the depressed and sullen looks that I would’ve surrendered to if he weren’t here.
“Why can’t we sign up for that thing like the neighbor lady said?” he asked.
Dammit.
I hadn’t realized he’d been listening when the neighbor mentioned a disaster relief program. It was tempting to ask for help like that, but I knew the risks that came with it. If I sought help from an agency, I’d need to give my name. And the second I provided my name, it would be out there as a traceable clue.
I could handle our apartment being flooded.
But I couldn’t imagine handling the stress of worrying whetherhecould find us with my information being out there.
“I said I’d look into that program,” I lied. I had no intention of failing at staying off the radar and keeping an off-the-grid lifestyle.
“Okay. I hate seeing you so worried, Mom.” He came to hug me, and the second his little body pressed against mine and his skinny arms wrapped around me, I closed my eyes and sighed.
No problem in my life could ever be so hard as to make this not worth it.
Hewas worth it. Always. I would do whatever it took to keep my baby safe.
The next day, I would’ve been able to make a decent load of tips at Tiny’s, but I had to take time off and miss that shift. More tarps were necessary for the time being, and I had a voucher for another fan that could help with the moisture.
I took Oscar to the hardware store with me. “You’ll go back to school tomorrow, okay?” I told him as we walked into the small business.
“Okay, Mom,” he replied.
I couldn’t have asked for a better son. He was always so mild-mannered, sweet, easygoing, and I hoped he was carefree too.
With him back in school, I’d be free to work and try to catch up on all that I’d missed this week. Those were the thoughts that consumed me as I considered the differences among the tarps and fans. As a mother, especially a single mother struggling to make ends meet, I constantly had over twenty tabs open at once. Perusing the selections, I multitasked to think about what I could pack him for lunch. Which clothes would be clean and dry for him to wear. Then I remembered that he’d outgrown his shoes. And soon, he’d need a bigger coat. Winter wasn’t around the corner just yet, but it’d be here before I knew it. Plus, he was asking about?—
A sixth sense hit me.
He wasn’t with me.
I’d been standing here and looking at these tarps, then I got sidetracked and noticed those bins over there, thinking that if we’d used those to store our winter clothes in until we needed them, they would’ve stayed dry.
“Oscar?” I said it quietly but sternly, trying my best not to panic.
He wasn’t next to me.
He wasn’t even in this aisle.
I spun around, frantically scoping my surroundings for him as I jumped to the worst-case scenarios. Thiswasthe worst thing that could happen to me. Losing Oscar was the one failure I’d always feared and forever fought against.
“Oscar.”
Still nothing. I couldn’t see him no matter which aisle I hurried down. It hadn’t been that busy in here, but he knew better. He always knew better. No matter what, he was supposed to stay within my sight and?—
I stopped short, finding him at last. Heaving out a shaky exhale, I locked my gaze on his dark-brown hair as he bent over. On his hands and knees, he crawled and picked up scattered screws. An older man in a wheelchair scooter was waiting patiently. He held a cup out for Oscar to plunk the screws into it, a grateful smile on his face.
Finished picking up the screws, Oscar hopped up and grinned. “There you go, Mister.”
“Thanks, kid,” he replied in a tired, weak voice.
Oscar lifted his hand to wave and smiled as he turned and saw me.
