Chapter 2 - The Boy Who Would Not Hug Me
“Sweetheart, it’s Mom.”
Felix stared at me.
For one terrible moment, there was no recognition in his eyes.
Then his lower lip began to tremble.
“Dad said you didn’t want us anymore.”
The words struck harder than anything Russell could have done with his hands.
I reached toward him, but Felix pulled closer to my mother.
Judith wrapped both arms around him.
“He has been through a lot,” she whispered.
I looked at my father.
Raymond had always stood straight, even after arthritis made walking painful. Now his shoulders were bent beneath the faded blue jacket.
“What happened?” I asked.
He glanced toward Felix.
“Not here.”
I paid the rideshare driver, collected my suitcase and took them into a small café inside the transportation center.
Felix refused food at first.
Then I ordered pancakes with strawberries—the breakfast he used to request every birthday.
He watched me cut them into small pieces.
“You remember?” he asked.
“I remember everything about you.”
His eyes lowered.
“Dad said you forgot.”
My mother began crying.
I placed the fork down.
“Tell me the truth.”
Judith looked at Raymond.
He nodded.
“The house was never ours,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“When Russell bought it, he told us your name was on the deed. He said we could live there as long as we helped care for Felix.”
“That was the agreement.”
“At first, everything seemed fine.”
My parents moved into a bedroom downstairs. Felix received the bright room I had seen in photographs. Russell sent me images of family dinners and backyard games.
What the photographs did not show was that Russell had stopped paying for my parents’ medication after the first year.
He took my father’s pension card, claiming it would be easier if he handled the bills.
He gave my mother a weekly grocery allowance and demanded receipts for every purchase.
When she questioned him, he accused her of wasting my money.
Then a woman named Sabrina Holt began visiting the house.
Russell introduced her as an interior designer.
“She started staying overnight,” my mother said.
“Where?”
“In your bedroom.”
The room tilted.
Felix pushed his plate away.
“Sabrina said it was her room.”
I looked at my son.
“Did your father say that?”
He nodded.
“He said you liked living far away because you had a new family.”
My mother reached across the table.
“Maren, I tried to tell you.”
“I never received anything.”
“I wrote letters.”
Russell had opened every bank letter that came to the house.
Apparently, he had opened my parents’ mail too.
Judith tried using a neighbor’s phone, but Russell changed my number in her contact list.
Whenever she called, a man answered and told her she had reached the wrong person.
Russell had created an internet number that redirected her calls.
“He controlled everything,” Raymond said.
“Why did you stay?”
“For Felix.”
My parents believed that leaving would mean abandoning him inside the house with Russell and Sabrina.
Then, five days earlier, Russell announced that he and Sabrina were getting married.
“He said you had agreed to a divorce,” Judith told me.
“I never signed anything.”
“He showed us papers.”
Felix began rubbing the table with one finger.
My father’s voice lowered.
“Russell said there was no room for us anymore.”
“He threw all three of you out?”
“He told us we could take Felix for the weekend.”
“And then?”
“When we tried to return, the locks had been changed. A security guard told us we were trespassing.”
My mother had only thirty-seven dollars.
My father’s pension account had been emptied.
They spent two nights inside the transportation center because the family shelter had no available beds.
I looked at my parents.
Then at my child.
For five years, I had slept beside a laundry room and missed every part of my son’s life so they could be safe.
Russell had turned that sacrifice into the weapon that separated us.
I removed my phone.
“What are you doing?” Raymond asked.
“Calling my husband.”
My mother gripped my wrist.
“Don’t tell him where we are.”
“I won’t.”
Russell answered on the fourth ring.
“Maren?”
He sounded startled.
“Were you expecting someone else?”
“I thought you were working.”
“I finished early.”
Silence.
Then his voice became warm.
Too warm.
“That’s wonderful. When are you coming home?”
I looked at Felix.
“He is very excited to see you.”
My son lowered his eyes.
Behind Russell, I heard a woman laughing.
“I’ll be home soon,” I said.
“How soon?”
May you like
“Before you have time to prepare another lie.”
I ended the call.
