I didn't go straight home.
Instead, I drove to the cemetery.
It was getting dark, the autumn light fading fast, but I needed to be there. Needed to stand at my mother's grave again with this new information.
"You knew," I said to the headstone. "Or you thought you knew. Someone told you I'd be safe. That's why you took the money. Not just desperation. A promise."
The wind picked up, scattering leaves across the graves.
"I've spent thirty-five years hating you for selling me. And some of that hate was justified you still did it, still took the money, still let strangers buy your daughter. But you were also you were manipulated too. Used too. Just like I was."
I sat down on the cold ground, not caring about my clothes, not caring about my age or my bad shoulder.
"I don't know how to feel about any of this. I came here for clarity and I don't have any. I just have more questions. More people who hurt me while also trying to help me. More layers."
The leaves continued to fall.
