Skip to content “I could be wrong.”
But I barely heard that part.
I was stuck on the fact that James had left the hospital with someone I didn’t know.
Then I told her the other part.
“He told me not to fill out the birth certificate.”
Mom’s face hardened.
“He what?”
“He said to wait until he came back.”
Her mouth tightened into the expression I remembered from childhood.
“Olivia, listen to me.”
“Mom…”
“No. You listen. That man does not get to walk out of this room and dictate what you put on your son’s paperwork.”
“Please don’t.”
“You write Owen’s name down right now.”
“Mom.”
“I have lived this story.”
Her voice cracked.
“I know where it ends.”
I knew exactly what she meant.
My father had abandoned her shortly after I was born.
She had signed my paperwork alone.
And ever since then, she saw pieces of him in every man who behaved unexpectedly.
Even James.
Nurse Maeve returned and gently moved the clipboard closer.
Then she left us again.
Mom picked up the pen and handed it to me.
“Write his name.”
My fingers shook.
—
The blank line waited.
My mother’s hand rested on my knee.
I could hear the faint sound of elevators in the hallway.