“You’ve got nothing to say to me.” Katie raised her hand, pointing to the door. “Get out!”
Katie walked out of college and turned in the opposite direction from the bus stop. International Women’s Day was just a few days away, and she still hadn’t bought a gift for her grandmother. She couldn’t decide on anything. Hurrying toward the shops, a muffled ringtone sounded from her bag. She stopped and pulled out her phone. Gran.
“Gran, I’ll be home soon,” Katie said.
“Alright,” her grandmother replied.
Katie thought she was about to say something else. Her voice sounded odd—guilty, almost.
“Are you okay?” Katie pressed quickly before her gran could hang up.
“I’m fine. Just… come home soon.” The line went dead.
Katie tucked her phone away, turned on her heel, and headed back toward the bus stop, puzzling over why Gran had sounded so urgent. *Something’s wrong. Why wouldn’t she just say it over the phone? I should call back—this suspense is unbearable…* But just then, she spotted her bus pulling up and broke into a run to catch it.
*Maybe her purse got stolen at the shops, and she’s upset? Or her blood pressure’s spiked—that would explain it. Why is this bus crawling? At this rate, I’d be faster on foot…* Katie’s thoughts raced as she stared impatiently at the city passing by the window.
Finally, her stop. She leapt off the bus and hurried toward home. Stepping into the courtyard, she glanced up at their flat’s window. It was still light out, but the bedroom lamp was on. A flicker of worry shot through her, and she dashed into the building. At the door, she fumbled through her bag for her keys.
“Where *are* they?” she muttered in frustration.
The lock clicked. The door swung open, and there stood Gran.
“Were you waiting for me by the door?” Katie asked, surprised.
“Come in,” Gran said tersely, stepping aside.
Katie stepped into the hallway, studying her grandmother’s face. She didn’t miss the nervous tension in her posture.
“What’s going on, Gran?”
“Something’s happened, love…” Gran glanced at the slightly ajar living room door, then leaned in, lowering her voice. “We’ve got company.”
“Who?” Katie whispered, the unease suddenly contagious.
Images and names flickered through her mind—who could show up unannounced and rattle her usually unshakable Gran?
“You’ll see. Get your coat off,” Gran urged.
Katie hung up her jacket and noticed a stranger’s coat on the rack. Beneath it sat a pair of pristine white boots. She kicked off her shoes, glancing at the boots with a pang of envy.
She shot Gran a questioning look, but Gran only returned an anxious glance before pushing the living room door open. Katie smoothed her hair and stepped inside first.
Normally, they kept the room dim with just a lamp in the evenings. Tonight, the chandelier blazed overhead. Movement caught Katie’s eye—a woman rising from the sofa.
She wore a black dress, collarbones sharp beneath the open neckline. Dark hair was pulled into a messy updo, loose strands escaping. Her eyes were weary. She looked exhausted, sick—or like she’d just come from a funeral.
She offered Katie a strained smile. Recognition burned through Katie like a shock. *Mum*, her mind supplied, then just as quickly dismissed it. No other name fit. She hadn’t seen her in fourteen years, yet she *knew*.
Whatever showed on Katie’s face made the woman’s smile drop. What had she expected? A joyful reunion?
She’d been beautiful once. Now, she just looked worn. Black aged her. How old was she? Gran had said she was nineteen when she had Katie. Katie was twenty now—so thirty-nine. She looked older. Life had been unkind.
“Hello, love,” the woman said. “You’re all grown up. So beautiful. Gran said you’ve got a boyfriend.”
Katie shot Gran an accusatory look. *Already gossiping about me?* Gran dropped her gaze guiltily. The woman took a step forward, but Katie retreated. The woman froze, lost.
Katie wanted to bolt—never see this stranger again. Too much hurt, too much anger surged at the sight of her.
“Why are you here?” Katie demanded, chin lifted. Pain, hatred, fury—it all laced her voice.
“I came back. Your birthday’s soon,” her mother replied, forcing another smile. It faltered under Katie’s glare.
“In *two weeks*. Bit late to remember, isn’t it? Why now? Why not call even once?” The words were daggers, each one aimed to wound.
“Katie, don’t forget—she sent money,” Gran interjected weakly.
“Oh, *yes*—a whole *hundred quid*! That kept us in pasta and rice till the next birthday. Why come yourself? You could’ve just transferred it. Or is there nothing this time? Thought you’d grace us with your presence instead?” Katie scoffed, but her glare stayed sharp.
“I don’t want your money. Or *you*. Don’t come to my birthday. You’ve seen me—now leave.”
Still, her mother didn’t move.
“After school, Gran used to gush about your calls—how you sent your love, promised to visit soon. I was naive enough to *believe* it. But you never called back. I figured out Gran was lying—just trying to make me think you cared. So I played along, to spare *her* feelings. That’s how we got by—lying to each other.”
“I *did* think of you—”
Katie cut her off. “I lied to my friends, too. Said you called, sent stacks of cash for presents. That you were saving for a flat, would come back for me. I almost *believed* it. The truth was too cruel—that you’d ditched me and never looked back.”
“I *did* remember—”
Katie barreled on. “After GCSEs, I went to college so I could sew, earn something to help Gran. Within a year, I was making dresses for her friends. They paid peanuts, but I was *proud*. While other girls went dancing or dated, I hunched over a sewing machine…”
“I’m sorry, love,” her mother whispered.
“Don’t *call* me that!” Katie snapped.
Even the crystal glasses in the cabinet seemed to rattle in protest.
“So why *are* you here? Did your boyfriend dump you? Found someone younger? Serves you right. Now you know how betrayal feels.”
“Katie,” Gran chided.
One look silenced her.
“Why’d you let her in? She abandoned *both* of us. Look at her—all dressed up like repentance incarnate.” Katie’s glare hardened. “You never cared how we scraped by. Oh, wait—your *hundred quid*. That must’ve *killed* you to part with.”
“Listen, I want to explain—”
“No. It’s too late for excuses. You’ve got *nothing* to say.” Katie flung her hand toward the door. “*Leave*!”
“Katie, how can you—she’s your *mother*!” Gran pleaded.
“And where was she when I was sick? *You* sat up crying over me. When I was in hospital, *you* brought soup. Other kids had their mums kissing them goodnight—” Her voice cracked; tears threatened. She swallowed them down. “*Go*.”
Her mother’s shoulders sagged. She shuffled toward the hall, and Katie stepped aside, holding her breath as a sickly-sweet perfume wafted past. Cloying, suffocating. Had it always been this strong?
Gran followed. Katie stormed to the kitchen, wrenching the window open. Cold air rushed in. She gulped it down, drowning out the stench.
“Close that—you’ll catch cold,” Gran said behind her.
Katie shut it, turning. “She gone?”
“Yes. I should’ve warned you. She just… showed up. Dinner?”
“Not hungry.”
“That man took everything—money, jewelry, threw her out. She had nowhere else.”
“I don’t care. I never want to see her again. I won’t *ever* forgive her!” Katie slumped onto a chair, face buried in her arms, sobbing.
“Katie, love, please.” Gran rubbed her back. “That’s the hurt talking. I’m not excusing her. But she’s my daughter. I ache for her too.”
“Did she ache for *us*?” Katie choked out. “*I hate her*.”
“People make mistakes. She fell hard, lost her head…”
“She didn’t want a kid. Didn’t want *me*.” Katie lifted her tear-streaked face.
“You’re right, love. But legally, she’s still on the lease. I can’t turn her away.”
“So what do we *do*, Gran?” KatieYears later, holding her own daughter tight, Katie finally understood that some wounds never fully heal, but love—even the broken kind—leaves its mark forever.
