She Framed Me As Unfit So I’ll See Her In Court Chapter 13
Friday afternoon, my mother suddenly called.
“Nia, I’m already on the bus. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
My heart dropped.
“Mom, why didn’t you tell me first?”
There was a pause on the other end. “I was worried. I just wanted to come see you.”
I grabbed an umbrella and ran out the door. Cold wind flooded my collar, my hair blowing across my face. I raced downstairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator.
A light rain shrouded the street. Cars rolled through standing water, and no one paid any attention to the small, elderly woman at the bus stop.
My mother was wearing that old trench coat, washed pale with age, the hems of her pants soaked halfway up. One hand held an umbrella. The other gripped an insulated bag tightly, as if she was afraid the food inside might go cold.
When she saw me, her reddened eyes immediately looked away.
“It’s pouring. Why did you come out?”
“I made stew for you and Maya, and cornbread.” She shoved the heavy bag into my arms. “Store-bought food can’t compare to home cooking.”
The bag was still warm.
In my last life, these same hands had brought me food again and again. Later, after losing both Maya and me, they hadn’t managed to survive that winter.
My throat closed instantly.
My mother lifted a hand and touched my face, her fingertips ice-cold.
“You’ve lost weight.”
I gripped her hand and tilted the umbrella fully over her head.
“Come upstairs first.” I looked at her, my voice rough but steady. “Mom, this time, listen to me. I already have a plan for everything.”