Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
I sat and then eased him down next to me. He was stiff beside me at first, but when I put my arm around his shoulders and encouraged him to lean against me, he did so without hesitation. His body felt unyielding and cold and there was no denying how hard he was shaking. I found myself running my fingers through his hair and then pressing my lips against his temple. I wanted to give him more; I wanted to give him some kind of verbal reassurance that I was there and that what we were about to do meant more to me than he would ever know, but I couldn't find the words.
"I went to see them after I got to Seattle. I was struggling with the methadone program I was in. I had my new job, the apartment, but it…"
"It wasn't enough," I finished for him.
Remy nodded against my shoulder. I kept stroking the back of his neck and along his spine in the hopes of calming him.
When he didn't continue, I said, "I thought if Gio saw me, he’d remember me. I thought maybe this time it would be different."
"This time?"
"I saw him about a week after he was admitted into Dr. Taylor's care. When I went into his room, I was just so relieved to see him, I didn't think about what I was doing. I grabbed him, hugged him, told him I loved him. He just… he lost it. He didn't remember me, didn't know me, didn't know himself. Kept saying his name was Nick and that we'd killed the man he loved."
I felt sick at the reminder of what had been done to my son, of the brainwashing he'd endured. "All these years I thought that all I had to do was get him back and everything would be okay."
"I thought that too," Remy murmured. "I thought the second my family saw me…" He shook his head.
"What happened when you went to see them?"
Remy was silent for a while. He was leaning against my chest, his ear pressed over my heart. At some point while I’d been talking, he’d put his arm around my waist. He smelled of shampoo and soap.
"My mom answered the door. They were still living in the same house I grew up in. I remember thinking that maybe they'd stayed there all those years so I could find them. All these little scenarios kept playing out in my head as I waited for the door to open. It couldn’t have been more than fifteen seconds until she answered, but I must've lived through a hundred ways of being welcomed home. When I saw my mom, I just started to cry." Remy's voice became strangled as he added, "I thought she’d know me. Even after all those years, I was so sure she'd see me and she’d just know."
I wrapped my arms around Remy's thin body. His pain was a palpable thing and I wished I could take it from him. It was clear from the story that his mother hadn't recognized him like he’d thought. I hated the woman for that fact alone. I would've known Gio anywhere. It wouldn't have mattered what he looked like or what the circumstances of our reunion would have been, I would've known him. I had known him. Long before the DNA results had come back proving he was my son, I'd known it was him. Parents just knew these things.
But obviously not all parents.
"I got angry with Gio," I somehow managed to get out. "The more he denied knowing me, remembering me, the more he said he loved the man who’d been hurting him for all those years, the more upset I became, and I demanded that he tell the truth. All the kids my brothers and I tried to help over the years, but I never really understood what they went through… what their minds were put through, you know? Gio just started shutting down. It was like losing him all over again. It was like he was being stolen away in front of my very eyes, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. The doctor said it was some kind of break from reality… that his mind was trying to protect itself. He stopped talking, stopped moving, stopped eating, drinking. He was there, but he wasn't."
The agitation and helplessness inside me began to build and build upon itself. I wanted to get up and hit something. I wanted to inflict pain on something just so I could feel that I could inflict it on myself too. I knew the restlessness would just get worse, so I loosened my grip on Remy in order to escape him.
"Don't," Remy whispered. He ended up tightening his arms around me to keep me from moving.