Chapter 2
The last time Jackson brought our son to see me, Barry was just a year old–too young to remember anything. Now, at three, he looked at me as if I were a stranger.
Prison didn’t have beauty salons or yoga studios. I managed to keep my body in basic shape, but without proper skincare and with the prison’s enforced hairstyle, I had aged more than I cared to admit.
“Barry, say ‘Mommy,” Jackson urged softly.
He shrugged off Jackson’s hand, his face scrunched up in defiance. “She’s not my mom! My mom is Rebecca! The famous designer! This woman doesn’t even wear designer clothes and has no style at all!”
Jackson helped me to my feet, but my legs felt numb, and I stumbled right into his arms.
Jackson was caught off guard, but his eyes lit up with joy. He stroked my hair, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. “Emilia, prison has certainly softened you.”
My body tensed at his words.
I mused, “Softened? Is that what he likes gentle women?”
But I remembered how Jackson once said he loved my fierce
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spirit. That fierceness had always been reserved just for him.
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I never let him stay late at the office–too many late nights would hurt his liver. I forbade him from drinking with clients. -it would wreck his stomach. I wouldn’t allow him to revise proposals endlessly–it would strain his eyes. And I definitely wouldn’t let him smoke to fit in with the crowd–it would damage his lungs.
Yet, I had forgotten to tell him the one thing I couldn’t stand: him loving someone else because that would break my heart.
I pushed Jackson away, quickly lowering my gaze.
He misinterpreted my actions as shyness, his smile widening.
I was just heartbroken, letting the tears spill silently onto the floor.
But I swore this would be the last tear I shed for him.
“Shall we go home?” he asked, his voice hopeful.
“No, I’ll clean this place up and stay here,” I replied lightly, my meaning crystal clear.
Barry, bored and restless, tugged on Jackson’s arm, eager to leave. “Dad, we promised Mom we’d go to the aquarium today to see the sea lions!”
I remembered the time when Barry was still in my belly, feeling him kick like a little sea lion. I had told Jackson that once he was
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born and grown up, we’d take a family trip to the aquarium.
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Jackson frowned at Barry’s words. “Barry, I’ve told you, this is
your mom.”
“I don’t want to hear it! She’s not! I only want Rebecca as my mom!”
With that, Barry bolted outside. As we rushed after him, the screech of tires echoed, and Barry fell to the ground, crying and clutching his face.
“Barry!” In an instant, I dashed toward him, my heart aching at the sight of his scraped knee.
But Barry pushed me away with surprising force. I was taken aback–what kind of hatred could a three–year–old muster to shove me like that?
His cries grew louder, more desperate. “I want my mom! I want my mom!”
Jackson turned away from me, scooping Barry into his arms to comfort him. “Don’t worry. Daddy will take you to find Mommy. We’ll go find Mommy.”
At that moment, my mind was a whirlwind. The son I had carried for nine months, the one I had dreamt about day and night, didn’t even recognize me as his mother. It tore at my heart.
I mused, “But then again, he is just a child. What does he truly
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4/4
understand? Have I been absent for so long that he has come to see someone else as his mom?” Guilt washed over me.
Feeling overwhelmed, I reached out and took Barry from Jackson’s arms. “Sweetheart, don’t cry. Mommy will take you to the hospital, okay? It won’t hurt anymore. I’m sorry, baby.”
Barry’s tiny fists pounded against my face, and I felt nothing but numbness. He yanked at my hair with all his strength, shaking my head violently. “I hate you! I hate you! It’s your fault I lost my mommy! Why don’t you just die? Just die!”
I looked into Barry’s eyes, and there was no trace of affection- just pure resentment.
My feet felt like they were stuck in concrete, frozen in place.
Jackson took Barry back, soothing him. “Daddy will take you to find Mommy.”
But he wasn’t talking about me.
I could no longer hold back my emotions. I grabbed Jackson almost frantically. “If Rebecca is his mom, then what am I?”
Jackson’s eyes darkened with anger, tinged with
disappointment. “Emilia, what’s the big deal? What’s a little sacrifice for our son?”
