My Mother’s Perfect AI Lied And Left Me For Dead Chapter 22
A week later, I went to that seaside town.
My husband came with me. My parents stayed home to look after our daughter, insisting I call them every day.
The community center was smaller than I’d expected. Posters for child-help hotlines covered the walls, and a dozen folding chairs sat in the activity room.
A parent support meeting had just ended.
A man with completely white hair was stacking chairs.
He looked much older than in the public interviews, his back more stooped. He lifted two chairs, his arms shaking.
I walked over and helped him set the chairs against the wall.
“Thank you,” he said, lifting his head.
The moment he saw my face, the chairs fell from his hands.
Metal clanged against the floor.
His lips trembled.
“Mo?”
My husband moved to my side.
I took a step back.
“I’m not here to claim to be anyone.”
Westley seemed to wake from a trance. He lowered his head and moved out of the doorway.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you that.”
He didn’t ask who I was. He didn’t follow me.
This was not the same man who had stood at the apartment door and gone back to bed.
I could have left.
Instead, I stopped.
“Where is Morgan’s memorial garden?”
Westley pulled a folded town map from his pocket and marked the location. He set it on a table, not using it as an excuse to come closer.
“If you walk along the bay path for ten minutes, you’ll see it. There are usually daisies by the photo.”